


A Drop in the Ocean

by VampireInATrenchCoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Mating, Angel Wings, Angelic Grace, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Charlie, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel Being an Idiot, Dean Hates Himself, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hell Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mark of Cain, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Nephilim, Nesting Castiel, Oblivious Sam, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnant Dean, Profound Bond, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 10, Season/Series 11, Soul Bond, Top Castiel, Top Dean Winchester, Winged Castiel, Wingfic, mentions of possible miscarriage, slightly suicidal Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-04-12 03:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 579,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireInATrenchCoat/pseuds/VampireInATrenchCoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a witch hunt gone terribly wrong, Dean calls Castiel in a desperate attempt to save Sam's life, but the angel's help comes with a very high price. With Cas' borrowed Grace burning out faster every day, the Mark of Cain being more active than ever and a bottle of whiskey to top it all, a confession from Castiel sends Dean's entire life spiraling out of control.</p><p>Set after 10x10, "The Hunter Games".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever Destiel story, so please be gentle with me ;P
> 
> I feel the need to ask that everyone pay attention to the warnings in the tags, but I'll mention one of them in particular here because I know this one is kind of a deal breaker for some people. There will be Mpreg in this story; it's actually kind of the main plot. I just felt like I should mention it here as well, just in case someone is not comfortable with it and didn't spot it in the tags.
> 
> Also, there is no need to worry about the "mentions of possible miscarriage" tag. I just felt like I should warn you guys about that as well, because it's kind of a strong point in the story. And while I'm not spoiling anything here, I will point out the fact that I didn't add the tag "Miscarriage" ;)
> 
> I apologize in advance for any mistakes, because English is not my first language. If you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out :)
> 
> I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.
> 
> The title of the story comes from the song A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope, which I also do not own. This song is actually where the inspiration for this story came from.

Dean had screwed up. He knew he had. He had screwed up big time, and he had no idea how to fix it. He wasn’t sure if there was even a way _to_ fix it at all. He was pretty sure there wasn’t.

He wanted to blame it on the Mark of Cain. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol. He wanted to blame it on the bartender who had actually sold him that whole bottle of whiskey. He wanted to blame it on the freaking witch that had almost killed Sam and gotten Dean a wounded shoulder and a broken rib, plus a few cuts here and there. He wanted to blame it on the freaking moon for just being up there in the sky, probably laughing down at him because he was just so fucking _stupid_.

But he knew it was all on him in the end. He was the only one to blame for all of it. It really had been entirely his fault, after all.

He had been the one to suggest that he and Sam had needed a case. After the whole fiasco with Metatron in the Bunker’s dungeon, Dean had felt like he'd needed to do something. He had needed a hunt. That was the only thing he was truly good at, and he had been hopeful it would help clear up his head; somehow rid his mind of the influence of the Mark even for just a little while, because the damn thing seemed to grow more active with every day that passed. He had just needed a little time off. But of course, they were the freaking Winchesters, so nothing could go right for them. The Universe really did hate them, it seemed. Dean had been convinced of that for a while now.

Everything had gone to hell because he had reacted one second too late. He had made a mistake, and that had almost cost Sam his life. Dean hadn’t been fast enough to get to his brother during the hunt, and Sam had gotten stabbed in the stomach because of it. Of course, Dean did behead the bitch who had done it a second later, but then Sam was on the floor bleeding out and Dean was sure he was going to lose his brother again.

***~*~*~*~***

“Dean…” Sam’s breathing was ragged as his hand clutched his side, trying to stop the constant flow of blood quickly slipping out from the deep, ugly tear on the skin of his torso from continuing to leave his body. It wasn’t working.

“Don’t talk.” Dean tore off a piece of fabric from one of his shirts and pressed it to the wound, holding Sam’s hand over it to show him how to keep it in place. That should slow the bleeding down a little. It had to. “Don’t waste energy, alright? Just, don’t talk. I’m gonna get you to a hospital.”

Sam didn’t respond, but he allowed his brother to carefully maneuver them to their feet, supporting pretty much all of his weight onto Dean’s slightly smaller frame. Dean did everything he could not to wince or buckle under his brother’s weight, but it was surprisingly hard to ignore the pain that flared up in his body with every single movement he made. There was something seriously wrong with his shoulder and his lungs were burning, but Sam was dying so all that just didn’t matter at all. Dean could worry about himself later. Right now, he had to take care of Sammy.

Getting Sam into the Impala was tricky and the drive to the nearest hospital took a lot longer than Dean had thought it would, because the witch just had to live way too many miles out of the closest town, which was Omaha, Nebraska. The drive felt truly endless (had they really driven for that long to get to the bitch’s house earlier that day?), but after what had seemed like a true eternity Dean was finally parking the Impala by the emergency entrance of the hospital and flying out of the car to get someone out there to help his now unconscious brother. He knew he shouldn’t try to carry Sam again.

The next hour or so was basically a blur of repeating the same story of how he and his brother had gotten jumped outside of a bar by some crazy dude and how he and Sam had tried to put up a fight, but the guy had pulled out a knife and stabbed Sam before running away. The nurses kept insisting that Dean should also be checked, but he refused every time. He was fine. Sam was the one they should all be focusing on.

Still, eventually one of the nurses (a scary-looking woman who seemed to just constantly give out the impression that she might actually murder anyone who looked at her the wrong way) convinced Dean to let her at least clean the cuts he had on his face and arms, but that had been all Dean allowed. After that, the hospital staff finally backed off, probably not because they were convinced that he was fine, but because at some point they grew tired of pretty much begging to check him for possible wounds and having to hear him refuse every time and repeat that he was fine over and over again. It took them all about two hours to get tired of it. Dean was just relieved they wouldn’t be worrying about him when Sam needed the attention.

The waiting room was packed, the air heavy with sorrow and tension as several family members and friends waited for news on the people they cared about. There was a certain grayness; a dimness to that room in comparison to the rest of the hospital, a cloud of tension that just didn’t seem like it would ever fade away hovering over people’s heads like a curse. Everyone would look up at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway that connected the room to the rest of the building, at the same time wishing for news and fearing what they might hear. It was suffocating.

With his head in his hands, Dean waited. No one talked to him; no one even dared to sit close to him, and he was glad for the space. He guessed a six-feet-three tall dude covered in bloody cuts and dirt looking on the verge of a mental breakdown ought to get that reaction out of people.

At some point Dean managed to convince himself that the fact that no one had come out to talk to him until now was a good thing. It meant Sam was alive. They would have come talk to him otherwise, so that was off the table for now, and it would stay that way. Dean would make sure of that, even if any doctor tried to tell him differently. He had been down this exact same road many times already in the past few years.

His cell phone weighed heavily in his pocket, but Dean refused to call Cas for this. If the hunter called him, then Cas would come here and try to heal them, which was something Dean shouldn’t allow, considering the angel’s current state. Cas’ borrowed Grace was still burning out, and if Dean and Sam could get themselves fixed without him, then that’s what they should do. If he could avoid it, Dean would rather not have Cas here right now, trying to help them even if it might end up costing the angel his life.

However, Dean realized he wouldn’t exactly have a choice on the matter when a middle-aged Asian doctor called the fake name he had given for himself and his brother when he’d first gotten to the hospital and had been asked for medical insurance information. He rushed up to where she was standing as soon as the name was halfway out of her lips, his heart beating frantically in his chest because her face didn’t exactly spell cheerful. A chill ran down his spine as he realized with a wave of dread that she might be the bearer of bad news, but he hurried to push that thought away as soon as it crossed his mind.

His tone was rushed and pretty much desperate as he asked, “How's my brother?”

“He’s still in surgery,” she told him in a voice that was just way too calm for his liking, but he knew that she might be used to this sort of thing already. This was her job; she probably did this every day. But if Sam was still alive and in surgery in that very moment, why the hell wasn’t she in there with him right now? What was she doing out here talking to Dean instead of in there in the operation room saving his brother’s life? “The stab hit three internal organs. His heart stopped once, but we managed to revive him in time. However, the internal bleeding refuses to stop."

“What are you saying?” Could this woman be a little more straight-forward, please?

The doctor let out a sad sigh, her eyes filled with pity. Dean hated that sight, but he refrained from punching one of the doctors who had his little brother’s life in their hands at the moment. He doubted that would be helpful to Sam.

“We’re doing everything we can to save your brother, Mr. Collins, but we just want you to be ready if—”

“Don’t you even dare say it! Don’t you fucking dare!” Dean didn’t give a damn about how people had started staring by this point as he yelled at the doctor. Who the hell did she think she was to even insinuate something like that? He just didn’t care who she was anymore. All he cared about in that moment was making sure that his brother was okay. That was really all. “He’s not gonna die!” _Not again,_ his mind completed his outburst with the words he knew he couldn’t say out loud.

He stormed out of the waiting room without another word, stomping over to the gliding doors that led outside, only half-aware of how people immediately moved out of the way as he walked, fearful and nervous glances being thrown his way from all sides.

The icy cold night air was a welcome relief against his skin, numbing the constant sting of his cuts, even if just barely. It helped clear his head a little, enough for Dean to realize he couldn’t put this off any longer. With shaky hands, Dean got his phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed the number of the only being on the planet he could think to call right now.

Cas picked up on the fourth ring. _“Hello, Dean.”_

“Cas,” Dean ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm down enough to slow down his still racing heart, struggling to find the right words and speak coherently right now, “Cas, something happened. It’s Sam.”

_“What happened?”_ The change in Cas’s voice was so subtle someone who didn’t know the angel very well would probably not even realize it, but it was there. Dean had known Cas for over six years now, and that meant he could read the angel well enough to notice it. Cas’ tone suddenly grew more serious, his words more careful as a hint of worry mingled into his voice, even in just those two words.

And that was all it took to break the dam. Dean let it all out at once, from why and how he’d found the case in the first place to the disaster that breaking into the witch’s house had ended up being and how Dean was now waiting for the doctors to try and save his brother, but that they didn’t seem very confident about Sam's state. In fact, they were telling him he should be ready for the worst.

“And I know that I shouldn’t be asking this of you, but I just don’t know what else to do. Sam’s gonna die here if I don’t do anything, and I just can’t—”

_“Dean, calm down,”_ Dean stopped short at Castiel’s strong, demanding tone, _“I need you to slow down and breathe evenly. You are hyperventilating.”_

Dean paused, just then realizing that his breathing was indeed a bit ragged. A woman holding hands with a child walked by, staring suspiciously at him before stepping as far away from where he stood as she could while rounding him with her little girl, who followed the woman’s steps with a little bit of reluctance as she watched him with wide, curious eyes. They were gone just a moment later.

His heart was hammering painfully against his ribcage by this point, and the ache had now spread over to his right shoulder and arm. He wondered just how badly he had bruised them. It was getting pretty hard to breathe, to be honest.

“Alright, I can do that.” Dean forced his breathing to even out a bit, making a feeble attempt at taking in deeper, slower breaths of air and letting them out evenly, just so Cas wouldn’t be able to tell just how badly he was still freaking out. At least not over the phone, anyway. “Cas, I don’t really… I mean, I can’t…” His throat felt closed up, and his fogged up mind wasn’t really helping on the matter of allowing him to speak coherently.

Castiel seemed to get it anyway, though. _“I know, Dean.”_ The angel’s voice was calm and controlled, precisely the opposite of what the hunter was feeling in that moment, and that for some reason grounded Dean a little bit. _“I’m only a few hours away. I will be there soon. Please, try to remain calm.”_

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding at the sound of those words, and he winced as his chest burned, pain quickly spreading all around the inside of his chest, but he ignored it. His relief was instant, and that was all he should be focusing on right now; all that truly mattered. Cas was coming. He would fix Sam, and everything would be fine. Dean had a plan now, and that helped him calm down a little. He had something to hold on to, and right now, that should be enough to keep him sane. At least until Cas got here.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean let out a shaky breath, watching as the warm air that left his mouth became foggy because of the coldness that surrounded him and danced right before his eyes for just a second before disappearing from view, “Seriously.”

_“I will see you soon, Dean.”_

When Dean went back inside the waiting room, he was very much aware of all the eyes that followed him, watching every move he made with careful attention, but he wasn’t at all bothered by the stares. He felt much better now, knowing that Cas would be here soon to patch up whatever the doctors couldn’t fix. He was still nervous, obviously, because Sam was still struggling and in surgery, but this was a light at the end of the tunnel and Dean would hold on to it for as long as he needed to.

A nurse, this time a short, awkward guy that looked extremely out of place in here for some reason, came out to talk to him over an hour later, saying that they had successfully stopped the bleeding, but that Sam was still hanging by a thread and was actually in the ICU at the moment. He also wouldn’t be conscious any time soon, because they were keeping him in an induced coma for an undetermined amount of time. The guy said they would need to put his brother through another surgery soon, but for now, Sam had to respond to the first one he had gone through, which might take a while, and apparently they had no way to know for sure exactly just how long 'a while' might turn out to be.

All Dean got from that was that Sam would be in the ICU when Cas got here and that his brother was alive and holding on for now, because the rest didn’t really matter. Sam wouldn’t need another surgery, but then again, he couldn’t tell the guy that.

The minutes ticked by slowly. At some point, Dean couldn’t bear to just sit around and wait anymore. His nervousness was already starting to build up again because it had already been three and a half hours since he had called Cas and the angel wasn’t here yet. He was pacing around the waiting room in no time, his hand unconsciously rubbing over the Mark of Cain through the fabric of his jacket sleeve as Dean resisted the urge to call Cas again and ask the angel what was taking him so damn long.

The Mark had been oddly quiet after the case, which had been a relief, but of course even that was short-lived. Dean guessed the thing had been satiated for a few hours because he'd killed the witch earlier, but it was back to acting up now, throbbing painfully on his arm, whispering into his ear— _kill, kill, kill, kill…_

It didn’t take long until he felt like pulling up the sleeves of his jacket and shirts so he could scratch at the Mark until all that was left on his forearm was bare, bloody skin, even if he knew that wouldn't fix anything. Cas himself had said that the Mark was much more than just a physical thing, so just burning or scratching it off wouldn’t do him any good in getting rid of it.

Still, he kept rubbing his hand over the Mark as he walked back outside, feeling a little claustrophobic in that waiting room all of a sudden. Scratching the damn thing over his clothes, he tried to will it to calm down, because the Mark whispering into his ear telling him to kill was really the last thing he needed right now. That thing had turned him into a freaking demon and he was still walking around with it. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of it, but he was starting to doubt they would be able to find a cure for it at all.

“Dean.”

Dean’s head snapped up at the familiar sound, his mind instantly clearing up, like a curtain had suddenly been pulled off from where it had previously been draped over his thoughts, sending the disorienting fog that had at some point filled his head away for the time being. Cas’ presence seemed to have that effect on him. Briefly, Dean wondered if the Mark could sense an angel was nearby. It probably could.

“Cas, you’re here,” Dean breathed out, his relief audible even to his own ears.

“You called me, I came,” Castiel replied calmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He made it sound so simple, like it actually wasn’t a big deal; like it really was the simplest thing in the world to him. However, the angel frowned only a second later, head tilting a bit to the side as he announced, “You are wounded.”

Dean swiftly ducked away from the hand that was already moving his way, because no, he wouldn’t let Cas waste his mojo on him when Sam was dying. Sam came first. Sam always came first. “No, Cas, Sam…" The hunter shook his head, letting out a tired sigh, "Sam needs it more.”

Castiel paused, his eyes hard as he considered Dean for a moment. The angel remained quiet for a while, his deep blue gaze boring into Dean so intensely it was like he was looking at the hunter’s very soul, which honestly, he might as well be. Finally, Castiel lowered his hand slowly, though he didn’t look very happy to be doing so, or even convinced that his help wasn't needed. “Where is Sam?”

Mentally, Dean let out a sigh of relief, glad that apparently the angel wasn't going to insist on healing him, at least for now. “In the ICU,” Dean hurried toward the door, and Castiel quickly followed him into the hospital, “They want to take him into surgery again soon, so we gotta be quick.”

Castiel simply nodded as they entered the waiting room, going straight for the nurse sitting at the desk in the corner. All it took were a few words from the angel for her to tell them exactly where to find Sam and handle them a card that would give them access to the ICU, and only a moment later they were already walking away from her. Dean was pretty sure she might not even remember their faces, and that worried him a little, because maybe Cas shouldn’t be using so much of his mojo when he didn’t have that much left, but Cas must know what he was doing. He wouldn’t be helping if he knew it could kill him, so he must still have some battery left. Sam had told Dean that the angel had been pale and coughing a lot when his Grace had been close to burning out, before Crowley had shoved some more Grace into him, but that didn't seem to be the case here, so Dean took that as a good sign.

The nurse they ran into once they were inside the ICU got the same treatment as the one back in the waiting room and was quickly walking away from them as if nothing had happened. They didn't come across anyone else after her, so it wasn’t hard to get to Sam. As they made their way through the ICU, though, an uneasy feeling quickly settled in Dean's stomach, and he did his best not to look into the rooms at the patients, instead keeping his eyes focused on reading the numbers fixated to the wall by the doors as they walked by, looking for the one the nurse had given them for Sam's room.

Sam had a small room to himself, with bare, pale white walls surrounding him on all sides. As soon as they walked inside, Dean swallowed drily at the sight of his brother, at the amount of machinery attached to his body, at all the tubes coming out of his mouth and arms. Dean felt something inside of him break at the sight, his chest suddenly tight with guilt, because he knew this was his fault. He had failed to protect his brother. He had done this to Sam. 

Pushing those thoughts away for now and forcing himself to focus, Dean closed door of the room, as well as the curtains that covered the small window that allowed people to look into the room from out in the hallway in order to give Cas some privacy, lingering by the door as he watched the angel walk over to the bed, examining Sam with careful eyes. He seemed hesitant, which sent a wave of ice cold dread washing over Dean’s insides. What if Cas wasn’t strong enough to do this? What then?

“Can you fix him?” The question felt heavy on his tongue because he hadn’t entirely thought about the possibility of Cas not being able to help until now. He didn’t think he could even consider it, really.

“Not completely, but I can heal him enough so that the hospital should have no issues with treating him back to full health.” Cas’ gaze was heavy as he looked up, almost sorrowful, like he was feeling guilty somehow, even though Dean couldn’t understand why. “I am sorry I cannot do more, Dean.”

Dean’s heart sank at the sound of those words; at the regret that was so audible to his ears, because Cas was actually _apologizing_ for this, like he thought Dean might be mad at him for not being able fix Sam completely. Dean was just glad that the angel was here and that he could do anything at all, because he knew that was already too much. “Cas, man, don’t,” Dean shook his head lightly, voice low but still firm as he spoke, “You don’t need to be sorry for this. You’re here, and you said you could save his life. That’s what matters. The hospital can take care of the rest.”

The troubled expression on Cas’ face did not go away as Dean had hoped it would. The hunter hated that sight, because he knew just how much Cas had been feeling useless lately. The angel had said it himself more than once during this last year, and that been the very reason why he had killed Theo when he had been human and had stolen the other angel’s Grace—because he thought he couldn’t be of use to them as a human. No matter how many times Dean and Sam told him that wasn’t how they saw him (just someone they kept around because he was useful), Cas just didn’t seem to get it. He didn’t get that he was _family_ , and had been for a while now.

Dean didn’t say anything else, though, as much as he wanted to just get it all through the angel’s head and make him understand. What difference would it make right now, anyway? This was definitely neither the proper place nor the proper time for a conversation like that one.

Castiel seemed to sense where Dean’s mind was at in that moment, because the next thing he did was turn back to Sam and rest his hand on the unconscious man’s forehead. His hand lit up with Grace just barely, not as much as it might have had he been at full power, and that made Dean a little uneasy. Should Cas really be doing this? Shouldn’t he have just sent one of his angel buddies to do this instead of coming himself?

It was over as soon as it had started. A second later the heart monitor beside the bed was registering a much stronger heartbeat and Sam looked a normal color again. He didn’t wake up, though, but he was already looking so much better that Dean instantly felt a breath of relief leaving his lips, chest growing lighter all of a sudden.

That was, until he looked over at Cas.

The angel wasn’t standing normally anymore, but supporting himself on the metal structure behind the bed attached to the wall. His knuckled were white from the strength he was putting into the effort of just keeping himself up, just as was the rest of his skin. It was almost like he had transferred Sam’s paleness to his own self, which actually made Dean sick in his stomach with guilt. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea…

Dean was by his side in a second, wrapping an arm around his middle and keeping the worn angel up on his feet. It worried Dean greatly just how much Cas was actually supporting his weight on him as the angel leaned into his side, practically draping himself over the hunter. The seraph's breathing was heavy, but it wasn’t a clean sound, like there was something in his lungs, clogging up his airways somehow.

“Cas, damn it, why didn’t you say you couldn’t do this?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” was Castiel’s low, wheezing response, and Dean had to literally hold back a scoff at that, because sure, Cas looked _just_ fine.

“And Sam?” he asked instead. He needed to know if his brother was fine. That was the very reason why Cas was even here to begin with; why he'd done this to himself in the first place.

“He will be fine,” Cas panted, the effort he seemed to be putting into the simple task of speaking highly alarming, “His body… is almost completely healed.”

And that was all Dean needed to hear to get moving. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Getting out of the hospital was tricky, but they managed. Everyone that came up to them asking if Cas was fine or needed to be looked at got the same story from Dean—that Cas was squeamish around blood and had just seen their friend after a car accident. Cas did look like he was about to pass out, so people bought that pretty easily.

When they got to the parking lot, Dean spotted Cas’ pimp mobile parked a few cars away from Baby, but he headed went straight for the Impala instead, which he had a few hours ago moved to a proper parking spot amongst the other cars. He could come back to the hospital to get Cas’ car later. Right now, he just needed to get Cas to the motel.

Cas was almost unconscious when they finally reached the Impala, and with a heavy heart, Dean hurried to unlock the car and attempted to put the seraph inside. And it took a lot of maneuvering from the human's part, but after about a minute  of struggling the hunter somehow managed to successfully get the angel lying down somewhat comfortably in the backseat.

When that was done, Dean slammed the door shut and practically ran around the car, throwing open the driver's door and sliding inside. And only a second later he was already shoving his key into the ignition, starting up the engine and gearing the car as quickly as he could before driving off.

They were already leaving the hospital parking lot when Dean finally dared to throw a glance over his shoulder, noticing then that Cas was unconscious, head lolled to the side and onto the leather backseat, eyes closed and body completely unmoving. The sight made Dean's heart feel even heavier inside his chest with the combined weight of his worry and guilt, and he stepped down on the gas a little more.

The motel wasn’t far from the hospital, which Dean was very much happy for. It was pretty late, around 4 o’clock in the morning, so there was no one around to watch him carry an unconscious angel bridal style into one of the rooms. Unlocking to the door of the room while carefully balancing Cas in his arms had been another challenge, but he managed.

Once inside the room, Dean placed Cas onto his bed as carefully as he could, though he doubted anything he did right now would cause the angel to wake up. When he leaned back to look at Cas, though, he realized that there was no freaking way the angel could possibly be comfortable in those clothes. And of course, as that thought crossed his mind, Dean hesitated to do anything to fix that little issue, because should he really do this?

He had done this for Sam countless times over the years, especially back when they had been younger—getting a few layers of clothing off of him and making sure his little brother was comfortable as Dean tucked him into bed. But this was different;  _Cas_ was different, and Dean almost felt dirty just for thinking about it, even though maybe there was no real reason for that. Or maybe there was; he wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was that doing what he was thinking of doing to Cas right now might not be strictly… platonic from his part.

That had been happening a lot to him throughout the last few years. He felt almost paranoid sometimes, afraid to touch Cas for a little too long or linger for a second more than he should in a hug, but sometimes a few things slipped. Still, he was pretty sure Cas was still clueless about the hunter's not-so-brotherly-or-friend-like-feelings for him, and for that Dean was extremely thankful.

Of course, it wasn’t like Cas would read too much into this. The angel probably wouldn’t even care that Dean took off some of his clothes. But to Dean, it _mattered_ , because it just felt so _wrong_ to do this while Cas wasn’t aware of it; because to him, this was more than just making a friend comfortable to sleep, even though that really wasn’t the intention here. He felt like he would be taking advantage of Cas somehow, which was something he would never do, but in his head, right now, it still felt like he would be doing just that by following through with this.

The Mark wasn’t helping. It didn’t understand boundaries, and it definitely didn’t care about morals. It seemed to think that nothing else mattered except for what it wanted, and the only other thing it seemed to intensify besides the need to kill was lust. And as a consequence, Dean's attraction to Cas had grown to be a lot harder to handle since he had taken on the Mark. The thing seemed to have developed the extremely annoying habit of burning on his arm and whispering for him to just _take_ what he wanted whenever the angel was around, because why should he not?

The idea of defiling an angel seemed to please the Mark, as twisted as that might sound, and Dean hated himself for even considering it.

Dean closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he pushed any thoughts from the Mark to the back of his mind, stuffing them away and shutting them out. He could do this. It didn’t need to be weird or bad if he didn’t make it so.

Ignoring the constant burn of the Mark on his arm, Dean leaned toward Cas’ sleeping form on the bed. The angel looked almost peaceful lying there, but Dean knew he shouldn’t be fooled by that. Cas wasn’t fine, and he shouldn’t have let himself be fooled like he had. But Sam had been dying and he hadn’t be thinking straight, so what should he have done?

Carefully, Dean lifted Cas’ body just slightly to push his darker trench coat and the suit jacket off his shoulders, removing the sleeves from his arms slowly. He folded the items carefully, leaving them on the chair by the wall. When Cas’ upper body was covered only by his white dress shirt, Dean walked over to the end of the bed and removed Cas’ shoes and socks, placing them on the floor by the side of the bed.

When he straightened up, though, Dean had to pause and actually consider continuing, because maybe it would be more comfortable for Cas to sleep without the suit pants, but Dean really didn’t think he could do that. Swallowing thickly, Dean decided maybe just the belt would do the trick, so he moved back to the side of the bed and leaned over Cas once more.

He lingered there for a moment, his mind very much aware of just _what_ Cas’ belt was close to, but he had slept with suit pants and belts on before and waking up later hadn’t been pleasant, so he really should do this. He had to remind himself of that fact a few more times to actually move his hands.

As quickly as he could and with as little thought as possible, Dean undid Cas’ belt and pulled it, getting it off of Cas and loosening the waistband of the angel’s pants just a little, but hopefully enough to be more comfortable. Dean placed the belt with the coat and jacket, rolled up in a tiny little circle of leather, before walking back over to the bed and draping a thick comforter the motel provided over the sleeping angel. He wasn’t sure if the angel did feel cold now with his Grace fading, but Dean just felt he should do it anyway, because it was January and really freaking cold. It wasn’t a snow night, thankfully, but it was still really chilly outside, especially at this time.

When he was done, Dean let out a sigh of relief at the fact that he had actually done this without making it a bad thing. He was actually a little proud of himself. Still, he couldn’t help but stare a little at Cas’ calm expression while he lingered by the side of the bed, because Cas really did look pretty cute while he slept.

_“Aw, ain’t he a little angel?”_

He actually chuckled as his words from so many years before came back to him. Just like that time, however, the fact that Cas was sleeping didn’t mean anything good; it actually meant quite the opposite. That thought alone was enough to make any hint of a smile that might have formed on Dean's face at the memory quickly fade away as worry blossomed in his chest once more. Why did he feel like every single day, at least one of the people he cared about was dying? Couldn’t they just catch a fucking break, for once?

Without a thought and before he could think about what he was doing, Dean leaned over Cas one more time and placed a gentle, careful kiss on the angel’s forehead.

And just like that, the Mark flared up again, apparently angry that Dean had ignored it for so long. It seemed to realize Dean didn’t have any intention of doing anything about his horniness at the moment and decided to change tactics, taking that moment to point out just how vulnerable Cas was right now.

The chanting of _kill, kill, kill, kill,_ started against inside Dean’s head as the image of the Angel Blade in the bag under the bed flashed in his mind. The Mark burned, insistent as it reminded him of the thirst for blood that had been slightly forgotten after he killed the witch earlier, but now it was back even stronger than before, because killing someone Dean cared about seemed to be even more satisfying to the Mark than killing some random witch, especially if that someone just happened to be an angel.

Dean’s hands clenched into fists at the sudden disorientation and wave of dizziness, because those thoughts just kept echoing over and over inside his head, urging him on and threatening to drive him mad if he didn’t do something about it.

He had to get out of there. He just had to.

Stumbling, Dean somehow managed to get to the door of the room, stalking outside and closing the door shut behind him. All he managed to take were three steps out into the cold air before he was bending over and spitting out the blood that flowed into his mouth as his body was sent into a coughing fit. His insides burned, his ribs aching and his shoulder feeling like it wanted to tear itself apart from his body. He actually felt like his lungs were about to launch themselves right out of his mouth. He couldn’t figure out if all that was happening because of the witch or the Mark, though he guessed it was probably a combination of both.

Gasping for breath, Dean straightened up his body, wincing as his ribs protested against the movement. The Mark was still burning, throbbing as it insisted Dean should go back into that room and do what it wanted.

Trying to shake off the lingering nausea, Dean hurried to his car, speeding out of the motel parking lot before he could do something absurdly stupid.

He needed the Mark to stop. He needed to clear his head from its influence, to dull his thoughts, if only for a short while, and throughout the past few weeks, he had learned exactly how to do that.

It wasn’t hard to find a bar, though judging by the lack of cars parked on the front and the time, it was about to close. Dean hurried to go inside anyway, because he really needed this. Honestly, he had done this more times he would be happy to admit over the years, but it had been happening a lot more often now, with the Mark. All he had to do was put on his best smile and work his charm on the bartender (she didn’t seem to care too much about the cuts on his face, and for that he was glad) and ten minutes later, Dean was leaving with several less bucks in his wallet and a full bottle of whiskey in his hand.

He drove out of town to the field area just a few miles away, parking the Impala out in a clearing. He was quick to get one of the shot glasses he had learned to keep in a bag in the trunk out and open the bottle, before climbing onto the roof of the car. He filled the glass and rested the bottle by his side before downing the drink in one go.

It burned going down, but it burned less than the Mark and it brought an instantaneous feeling of warmness washing through Dean’s entire body that he felt extremely glad for. He could still think clearly, though, which meant that the chanting from the Mark was still there, and that was so not the point of all this, so he hurried to correct that, filling yet another glass and downing it just as fast as the first one.

He didn’t want to think about the fact that he had failed Sam again, because it had been his fault his brother had gotten hurt in the first place. He hadn’t been fast enough, hadn't been able to protect his brother like he should. That was all he thought to be good at besides hunting—making sure Sam was okay, because that was what his father had taught him to do, look out for Sammy, make sure his little brother was safe and fine.

And now, because of that, Cas was lying unconscious on his bed, pale and sick and dying and there was nothing Dean could do about it. He had screwed up again, and both Sam and Cas were the ones to pay for that. He was such a fuck up he still didn’t get why the hell the angels had wanted anything to do with him in the first place all those years ago. They should have left him in Hell. He knew he would have deserved it if they had.

But they hadn’t, even after all those souls he had torn apart down there. And for what? To cause pain for every single one he cared about, because that was what he did. He screwed up everything, and he hurt the people he loved. He had failed everyone who had ever, by any stupid-ass reason, believed in him. That was all he was good for.

Three shots later and he was beginning to feel a little lighter, but it was only when one third of the bottle was gone that he actually felt his thoughts getting fuzzy and his pain beginning to grow dull. Half of the bottle was gone less than an hour later, and by then, Dean was pleasantly unaware of pretty much anything going on in his head or around him.

The sun was already rising in the horizon, sending away the darkness of the night that had still lingered around for a while. It wasn’t like Dean cared too much about that in that moment, though.

Something in the back of his mind told him he should be somewhere, but he couldn’t figure out where, only that it had something to do with Sam. He couldn’t remember where, though, maybe at the motel. Yeah, he probably should go back to the motel. That seemed like a good idea.

Getting inside the car was hard, but driving was harder. Dean got mad at the street for changing places every few seconds, because couldn’t it just stay there without moving? Wasn’t that what was streets did? He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen any dancing streets before then. Okay, maybe he had, he didn’t know. Dancing streets. Heh, that sounded kind of funny. Dean chuckled at that.

What Dean didn’t understand was why the motel had changed places at some point while he had been gone. He had to look for it for quite a while, which wasn’t very pleasant. He was already getting tired of driving, but he couldn’t stop until he found the motel. Finally, the familiar place came into sight, and Dean scowled at the building for having a terrible timing when it came to playing hide-and-seek.

He had a little trouble parking, but he thought he did a good job. He only took two parking spaces, and he was pretty proud of that.

The room key and the door key teamed up against him for a while, but eventually he managed to unlock the door and stumble inside the room. The sun was already up so it wasn’t by any means dark inside the room, but he still found it hard to see, since his eyes just refused to actually focus on anything properly. He tripped on something at some point and grunted as he hit his side on something hard, probably the small table he had seen at some point, cursing lowly before walking over to where he knew his bed had been earlier. He just hoped it hadn’t moved too.

Grunting, Dean let himself fall onto his bed (good bed, it actually stayed where it was supposed to. See, street? That’s what you should do), only to land on something hard.

_What the fuck?_

Squinting, Dean pulled back, sitting up, but his vision wasn’t helping at all. It swayed around and just wouldn’t focus, so he couldn’t understand what was lying on his bed, all he knew was that there was something there. It moved eventually, and Dean was slightly alarmed, but just sat there and waited, trying to get the room to stop spinning. He was getting dizzy now. Great.

“Dean?”

The voice was familiar, but Dean couldn’t place it. It sounded far away, so it wasn’t really important right now, and why wouldn’t the room just stay still? Was it really that hard? He was pretty sure he would throw up soon…

And just like that, everything was gone. The dizziness, the pain, even the haziness of his mind, which was suddenly reduced to a slight buzz; it all changed in a second and Dean had to blink a few times to shake off the feeling of disorientation the change had brought onto him.

Of course, it all made sense a moment later when he looked up and found Cas staring at him, his face very, _very_ close to Dean’s.

Dean was suddenly very much aware of just what position they were in. Dean was pretty much straddling Cas over the comforter, which was now pooled around the angel’s waist. Each one of the hunter’s knees was supporting his weight on either side of Cas’ waist. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to realize that whatever had been lying on his bed had been _Cas_.

“You were drunk,” Cas stated calmly, completely ignoring Dean’s wide, shocked eyes, “I removed most of the intoxication, but some might still linger. I also healed your wounds. You had a broken rib, a slightly damaged lung and a dislocated shoulder.”

Dean swallowed drily at all that, because didn’t Cas realize that Dean was pretty much on top of him? He was seriously talking like there was nothing wrong in the world. “Thanks, Cas.” Clearing his throat because his voice had come out slightly squeaky, Dean was about to jump get off of Cas already before little Dean decided he was liking this (he was already starting to make himself present, and that definitely wasn’t good) when a hand gripped the hunter’s arm, stilling him in place.

Startled, Dean stared back up at Cas with a look he knew could be best described as ‘deer in headlights’, even though he couldn’t see it. Cas, much to his shock, looked completely unfazed.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas tilted his head to the side, examining Dean with an intense gaze only angels seemed to manage, “You seem… troubled. Why were you drinking?”

Dean shook his head, but focusing on anything while straddling Cas was proving itself to be a little too hard for him (no pun intended). Little Dean was becoming more interested in his situation by the second. His face was just a few inches from Cas’, for fuck’s sake.

Dean shrugged, trying to seem calm, “I just had to take my mind off of a few things.”

“Dean,” Why the hell did Cas’ voice have to go straight south some times? Dean wasn’t some horny, hormonal teenager anymore, damn it, “You should not blame yourself for what happened to Sam. It was not your fault.”

Leave it to Cas to just know exactly what Dean was thinking. Cas just seemed to do that a lot, including on the time they had first met.

“Of course it was. I wasn’t there when he needed me, and he almost died because of that. And then you…” Dean shook his head, because he really should not finish that. He was still slightly buzzed, and that was definitely not helping to keep his mind completely coherent.

“Dean, I helped because I wanted to. I knew the consequences.”

Somehow, that only made Dean even madder. “And so did I, but I still let you help him. You had to give up some of the thing that’s keeping you alive and running out because I screwed up!”

“I did not _have_ to do anything, Dean. I did it because I wanted to. Need I remind you of all the things I have done for you and your brother; of all that I have sacrificed? And I would do every one of those things again without a thought. When will you understand that?”

If Cas had meant that to make Dean feel any better, well, it didn’t work. It actually had the opposite effect, because Dean was made aware once more of just how much the angel had given up for him. Dean was the reason he was dying right now in the first place, because if Dean hadn’t kicked him out of the Bunker when Gadreel was possessing Sam, maybe Cas wouldn’t have been taken by Malachi and wouldn’t have swallowed another angel’s Grace in the first place. Cas would still be human, sure, but he wouldn’t be dying, and that was better. Dean looked down in shame, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt, because why did he have to be such a screw up? Why did he have to hurt everyone he cared about?

A hand resting on his cheek made Dean’s head go up again, just so he was forced to look at the angel in the eye. Cas didn’t remove his hand, his touch tender against the human’s stubble, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Cas even knew what it meant; if he understood the intimacy of such a caress. Dean doubted it, but he couldn’t help but lean into the touch without even thinking about it.

“Dean Winchester, I don’t think you understand just how good you really are, or just how bright and pure your soul really is. Why do you think you were chosen as the Righteous Man? You are selfless. You worry so much about others that you forget to care about yourself. But not all that happens to them is your fault, you have to understand that. You can’t take all the universe’s burdens onto your own shoulders, Dean.”

Cas’ blue gaze was so intense Dean had to look away, because hearing those things was a little overwhelming. Cas couldn’t be serious, Dean knew that. His soul was the opposite of pure; it had been for a long time, ever since he picked up a blade in Hell, maybe even before that. He really didn’t understand just how Castiel, a freaking Angel of the Lord, could think so highly of him. And yet here Castiel was, looking at Dean like he was actually worth something, even if Dean himself wouldn’t believe it.

When Dean refused to look back at Cas, the angel shifted under the hunter, keeping his hand in place for whatever reason. Dean was about to move off of him because apparently the conversation was over and Cas wanted to get up, but froze when he realized that wasn’t exactly what the angel had been doing, because suddenly Cas’ hand was urging his head to turn once again. He wasn’t making Dean look up at him this time, however, and the next thing Dean knew was that the angel’s lips were being pressed to his forehead.

It was a lingering, light kiss that lasted very shortly, but it still made Dean tense. It was tender in a way Dean had not experienced in a very long time, because no one except for his mother had ever done anything like that to him, so he was kind of lost on how to react to it. His breath got caught in his throat in surprise, because what exactly did this even _mean?_

Castiel didn’t pull away after that. Instead, he lowered his head slightly until his mouth was lingering just a few mere inches away from Dean’s, the feeling of his warm breath making Dean’s lips itch.

Dean closed his eyes as the angel rested his forehead against hunter’s, because what was he doing? Did he understand what he was doing to Dean? They were so _, so_ close, all Dean would have to do to kiss him would be lean forward just a tiny bit. The Mark started to chant in his ear again, telling him to just go for it, because why the hell shouldn’t he take what he wanted? But he couldn’t for the life of him make himself do it because he had no idea what was happening.  He didn’t know exactly what Cas was doing and honestly, he couldn’t process it entirely. Because if Cas actually wanted this… God, if he wanted this…

“I just wish you would understand how much you mean to me, Dean,” Cas’ voice had been reduced to a whisper.

And then Cas’ lips were being pressed against his own in a light, barely there kiss, but it was still enough to make Dean gasp and his eyes to open wide in shock, because had Cas really just _kissed_ him?

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was just a broken whisper as he gazed into the angel’s azure eyes, and then down at the chapped lips that had touched his own not even a full second ago. They had felt so warm but the contact had been so brief, he wanted to just do it again, though he refrained, as hard as that was. He had to understand what exactly was happening here, because in that moment things weren’t exactly making much sense, and he wasn’t even drunk anymore. Or maybe he was passed out somewhere and this was just a dream, because _that_ actually made sense.

The angel’s eyes slipped closed. The angel wasn’t breathing normally, which Dean wasn’t sure what to make of. “My apologies, Dean,” Cas’ voice was lower than normal, if that was even possible, husky, even, and it had all sorts of effects on Dean that got a reaction out of his body that no one should really have in the presence of an angel. “I…”

Dean frowned, because he had never seen Cas so… lost before. He was looking away from Dean now, for some reason refusing to meet his gaze. There had been only two times that had happened before, when Dean had been begging him to help him get to Sam when Zachariah had him on lock down for Michael and when Cas was trapped in a circle of Holy Fire, with Dean begging him to give up on his deal with Crowley to open Purgatory. Dean couldn’t understand why he was doing it now, though. It was unusual and so unlike Cas that Dean wasn’t sure what to do.

Making up his mind and taking a page out of Cas’ own book, Dean lifted his hand and rested it on the side of the angel’s face, trying to make Cas look at him, but as he did so, he had to shift a little bit and felt something pressing against the inside of his thigh. Just barely, though, but it still had Dean looking down to make sure he was hallucinating. Only that he wasn’t.

Cas was _hard_.

The entire world seemed to stop spinning in that moment, time freezing as Dean had to actually do a double take to process that. Because Cas was actually _turned on_ right now, and that was because of _Dean_ ; because Dean was straddling him on the bed.

“Cas, look at me,” Dean almost begged, because he _needed_ to look at Cas’ eyes for this. His heart was racing wildly inside his chest, threatening to just fly out of his ribcage as his mind began to spin, because he just couldn’t believe this was actually happening. It was so surreal he was already half-convinced he was dreaming. His own erection grew even more insistent at the realization, but Dean did his best to ignore it at the moment. The Mark burned even more intensely in annoyance at his restraint.

When Cas finally looked up at Dean, his eyes were almost fearful. “Dean, I do not think…” Whatever Cas had meant to say died in his throat. The angel seemed to be struggling to find words, which was something Dean had never seen him do before.

“Cas, are you…” Dean decided to be forward with this, because he had danced around this for way too long, and if what he was guessing was right, beating around the bush wouldn’t get them anywhere. He needed to come clean, once and for all. “Are you attracted to me?”

Maybe Cas hadn’t been expecting the question, hoping Dean hadn’t noticed his situation down there or maybe he just had been hoping Dean wouldn’t ask about it, but either way, he looked even more troubled when those words left Dean’s mouth. It took him a while to respond, and when he did, what left his mouth was just a shy whisper, “Yes.”

Dean actually let out a shaky breath at that word, because it was exactly what he had wished to hear for freaking _years_. He had wanted this—wanted _Cas_ —for about six years now, but he had never, at any point throughout that time, even considered that Cas might actually want him too. It just had seemed impossible in his mind, but now…

“I am sorry, Dean. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

Dean had to actually chuckle at just how ridiculous that sounded. “Cas, I’m not uncomfortable.” To prove his point, he finally allowed his body to do what it wanted and leaned forward, pressing his own lips to Castiel’s, though allowing the kiss to linger a lot longer than Cas had. It was a completely chaste kiss, but it still earned a little gasp from the angel that Dean loved hearing and had him smiling a little.

God, it felt so good to do that. Even if he didn’t even move his lips, Cas’ mouth was still warm against his, his chapped lips surprisingly pleasant as they brushed against the human’s. Dean already wanted more of it as he leaned away, missing the contact after less than a second.

“Cas, I actually…” How was he supposed to say it? Want you? Like you? Love you? Dean had come to terms with all of those a long time ago, but he had never imagined saying those things out loud. He wasn’t sure he could manage to say them out loud, especially not the last one, and he really didn’t want to scare Cas away.

“I know.”

That had Dean stopping short, his green eyes widening as he stared into the angel’s blue ones. What the hell was Cas saying?

“I’ve known you want this for… a while, Dean.”

“You… what?” Dean leaned away from Cas as much as he could because there was just no freaking way he had heard the angel right. Cas… _knew?_

“I can feel it, Dean, the… _longing_ ,” Castiel continued, his voice oddly calm, though there was an edge to it that gave away the fact that calm wasn’t exactly what he was feeling, “I have always been able to feel it.”

Dean opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Cas had known. For all the years that Dean had done everything he could to hide what he felt from the angel, Cas had _known_. But if he had, and if he was also attracted to Dean like he had just claimed to be, why the hell didn’t he say anything?

“You…” Dean’s tongue was heavy in his mouth, words failing him as his brain struggled to catch up with what he was hearing, “You _knew_? All this time, you…”

The room looked relatively smaller all of a sudden, the walls closing in on the both of them, threatening to swallow Dean’s world as a whole. He actually felt like the floor (or on his case, the bed) had been pulled out from right under him. For years he had pretty much pined after the angel thinking that he was doing a pretty good job at hiding what he felt, shoving it into the darkest and deepest corners of his mind, but here Cas was, all but telling him he hadn’t been subtle at all about it; that the angel had _felt_ it all.

“Why did you never say anything?” Somehow his mouth managed to form those words, finding a question in the midst of Dean’s current spiraling thoughts. How he managed to actually say a coherent sentence, however, was beyond him. “Why did you never…” _Do anything about it?_ He wanted to ask, but couldn’t find it in him to do so. His lips weren’t exactly cooperating at the moment.

“I only actually understood what it meant very recently, Dean. And even then…” Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s once more, his eyes closed, like he was deeply concentrating in every single word he was saying. “Even then I didn’t know what to do. I guess I was scared, I’m not sure…”

Dean actually found that a little amusing, because it was hard to imagine Cas scared of anything, really. But he could relate, because he had been _terrified_ of Cas ever finding out about any of this. Of course, if Cas knew about how Dean felt (though Dean hoped he could only sense the attraction and not anything else) Dean really wished he would have said something earlier. Still, the dude _was_ an angel, and a very awkward one at that. Honestly, Dean was getting less interested in thinking about any of that at the moment, his body growing very, very aware of their proximity, as well as of the fact that they were both still mildly hard at the moment.

Still, Dean had to make sure Cas was on board with this. He wanted this so much it hurt, but he couldn’t have it if the angel didn’t feel the same.

“Are you, still?”

“A little,” Cas finally opened his eyes, blue meeting green at last, “But I’ve held myself back from what I want for far too long, Dean. I want this. I truly do.”

That was all Dean needed to hear.

The next second Dean was lunging forward, claiming Cas’ lips with his own once more. His intention was to be gentle, because he was very much aware of the fact that even though Cas had been kissed before (in fact, he knew that the angel wasn’t a virgin anymore, thanks to that bitch reaper who killed him the morning after), the angel was still fairly inexperienced in any sort of contact like this and he had admitted to still being a little scared. Dean knew he should take this slow, for both their sake’s, to be honest. He just had to ignore the constant chanting of the Mark, which seemed to think that taking things slow was definitely not an option.

Cas didn’t seem to agree, though. Differently from the previous kiss he had delivered to Dean’s lips, which had been nothing more than a mere brush of skin, the angel dove into the kiss like a man desperate for water, wasting no time to move his lips against Dean’s in pure hunger. Dean caught up quickly, responding eagerly as his mind kept repeating _this is actually happening_ over and over again.

It was surreal to even think that this was happening, because Dean had dreamt about this for _so fucking long,_ he had wished it would happen for years, but he had at some point convinced himself he would never have Cas. The angel had always seemed like something out of his reach in this department, because why the hell would Cas even want him this way?

But apparently, the angel wanted this, which short-circuited Dean’s brain in such a way it was almost startling. He had been kissing Cas for merely a minute and already he couldn’t understand how he had lived without it for so long. A strong hand grasped the back of Dean’s head, tugging at his short hair and tilting his head to the side. Dean let out a broken sound that resembled a mixture of a groan, a whimper and a gasp. Cas’ stubble rubbed against Dean’s own in the most delicious way.

He was legitimately surprised when Cas’ tongue darted into his mouth, ravishing anything it touched. Dean was actually beginning to feel light-headed, a feeling that quickly combined itself with the constant chanting of the Mark, urging him on and telling him to just _take, take, take,_ andDean could do nothing else but allow his body to melt against the heat of Cas’ own.

Dean’s hands slid over Cas’ body, exploring it for the first time, memorizing every single feature, loving the feeling of sharp, strong muscles under his palms. It had taken him years to actually accept that part of himself, but he had for a while now reached a point in his life where he knew he enjoyed the company of men as well as the one of women. He had accepted his bisexuality a long time ago, no thanks to his father, and now he could easily admit to himself that narrow muscles and a strong male body under his hands could be even more of a turn on to him than soft curves and delicate skin.

And right now, all he wanted to do was worship Cas’ body. He wanted to feel skin, his body actually ached for that, but he held back. Wouldn’t that be going too fast? How much exactly should Dean be holding back here?

Cas answered that question for him. Cas’ hands were pulling his jacket off a moment later, and then he was tugging at Dean’s overshirt but not actually lifting it up.

Dean got the hint pretty quickly. It would be easier for him to take it off instead of Cas.

His lips felt cold a second after pulling away from Cas’ own, and he had a little more trouble than he should with getting his shirt and undershirt off, but finally his jacket and shirts were being tossed over the edge of the bed and falling onto the floor.

As soon as he was free from them, he was aware of the fact that Cas was still wearing his own shirt. He craved the touch of skin even more now, but for that to be possible, that shirt had to go.

Cas leaned forward the moment Dean was free from the shirts and jacket, making it a little harder for the hunter to take the angel’s shirt off. Still, he managed. His hands fumbled with the buttons, and he had to literally resist the urge to just rip it open from impatience, but he somehow managed to pull it off Cas’ shoulder at one point.

Cas struggled a little to get out of the shirt, and he actually whimpered a little when he had to pull away from Dean to look and see what he was doing. A moment later, the shirt was discarded to the side, probably landing where Dean’s had already ended up.

When Cas leaned in for yet another kiss, he didn’t go for Dean’s lips like he had before. His warm, delicious lips covered the skin of the hunter's neck as the angel mouthed at his throat, kissing and even nibbling a bit. Briefly Dean wondered where Cas had learned all this, but his mind threw that thought out the window the moment Cas sunk his teeth into his neck and then sucked at his skin, drawing out a chain of moans from the hunter.

“Cas…” His hand gripped the back of the angel’s head, loving the feeling of Cas’ soft hair in between his fingers.

Slowly, Castiel started to lean back onto the bed, lying down onto the mattress and bringing Dean down to lay on top of him, who was kick to throw the comforter off the bed and out of their way. His lips chased Dean’s a moment later, his eager hands running over the hunter’s skin as he moved them to the human’s back, pressing their bared chest against each other’s. They groaned at the feeling at the same time.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean reminded himself to let Cas lead the way here. He was the one partially inexperienced out of the two of them, and he should be the one to set the boundaries. Honestly, Dean knew he would get on board with anything Cas did right now. He had just waited to have this for so freaking long that he was almost desperate and would be happy with whatever Cas was willing to give him.

Cas’ hands traveled down to Dean’s hips a moment later, struggling with the button and fly of the hunter’s jeans, almost tearing the fabric to pieces as he yanked it down over the human’s sharp hipbones. Dean pulled them off quickly, not tearing his lips from the angel’s for even a second. He doubted he would be able to do that even if he tried.

With almost clumsy hands, Dean struggled to get Cas’ pants off, now happier than ever that he had taken the angel’s belt, shoes and socks off earlier. The suit pants were quickly discarded onto the ever growing pile of clothes by the side of the bed.

Dean gasped onto Cas’ mouth at the feeling of so much skin under his body, his palms running over every single inch of the warm body beneath his own. His skin was on fire, though Cas’ wasn’t much different.

A yelp escaped Dean’s mouth without his consent when the room suddenly shifted around them. He was suddenly lying on his back with Castiel lying on top of him. He didn’t even realize Cas had the intention of shifting them until it was done, but he had no complaints to make on the matter.

Usually, when he slept with men, Dean didn’t like _not_ to be the dominant one. Be it because of just how hard it had been to accept that side of himself or for whatever influence from John Winchester that still lingered in his mind even after all this time, he still didn’t find it very easy to give up control to another man in bed.

But this, with Cas, felt just so _easy_.

Having Cas’ weight pressed on top of him, trapping him against the mattress and knowing just how _strong_ Cas’ hold could be on his body, it turned him on so much his cock was already beginning to hurt a little. The times when he’d actually wanted to bottom had been so little he could count them on his fingers and he’d still have a few left, but in that moment he realized that just much he wanted Cas inside of him. He actually groaned at just the thought of it. For some reason, having Cas being dominant in bed was actually a major turn on.

“Cas, I…” Dean wasn’t sure what exactly had been about to leave his lips, but whatever words he had been about to say died on his lips, cut off by a loud gasp as Cas, with one quick movement, pulled the hunter’s underwear down and gripped his now leaking cock with a firm hand. “Oh god, Cas…” His hips bucked at the feeling because oh god that hand felt so warm and strong against his dick, and then it was moving and holy shit this was actually happening, Cas was jerking him off.

Cas buried his face on the spot where his neck met his shoulder, his labored breathing puffing over Dean’s skin, making it tingle. “You’re so beautiful,” Cas muttered against his skin as he dragged his lips over the hunter’s skin, making him shiver, even though the entire room felt like it was on fire right now.

Dean couldn’t for the life of him find his voice to reply. Cas’ hand was working him so deliciously he could already feel his orgasm building up. He should probably be ashamed of himself for just how little he knew he was going to last through this (he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore, damn it, and he hadn’t been one for a very long time) but Cas’ touches just felt _so fucking good_ that he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not as long as Cas continued to move his hand like that.

Dean was thrusting his hips up into Cas’ hand in no time, not even caring that he was even acting like a horny teenager and moaning like a porn star as Cas squeezed and pulled at his length just the right way. He gripped the hair in the back of Cas’ head once more, the other hand finding the angel’s hip where it stayed as he dug his finger nails into the angel’s pale skin.

And then suddenly Cas’ hand was gone and Dean was left hard and whining at the loss of contact because _why did Cas stop?_ He was so close…

“Dean,” Cas actually pulled away from Dean now to look into the human’s eyes. The angel’s pupils were so dilated it was almost impossible to see the blue in them, “I… I want…” The angel seemed unsure how to phrase whatever was on his mind, looking down for a moment. He looked flustered, though Dean wasn’t sure exactly what that was from—from their current activities or from whatever he was thinking about. Maybe a mixture of both, he guessed.

Dean gasped when he felt one of Cas’ hands snaking back between his legs, though it didn’t go for his dick this time. No, instead it went right past his cock, digging into the space between the cheeks of his ass, finding the tight rim of muscles easily enough and pressing a finger to it just enough for Dean to get what he meant. Dean got the message pretty easily, so much he lunged forward and kissed Cas roughly for a moment more before he actually responded, because he was so on board with this and he wanted Cas to know.

When he broke away, he rested his forehead against Cas’, breathing heavily from both the kiss and anticipation, because holy shit, he was actually going to say it. “Cas, I want you inside me.”

The gasp Cas let out at those words was as audible as it had been easy to feel against Dean’s lips, and the hunter actually smiled at that. It seemed they _both_ were very much on board with that idea.

“I want to,” Cas continued, sounding breathless still, “But I don’t exactly know how…” The angel paused, allowing his voice to linger for a moment until the word died on his lips.

It took a moment for Dean’s head to clear up enough for him to understand what that meant. _Oh_. Cas’ only sexual encounter had been with a chick, so he probably didn’t exactly know what the mechanics were when it came to gay sex. It wasn’t like Dean was inexperienced in that department, though, nor was he unprepared. He pushed at Cas’ shoulder just barely, signaling for the angel to give him room to sit up a bit, and when Cas complied (albeit hesitantly, Dean could easily tell), he leaned to the side and pulled out his bag from under the bed, which he had put there when he and Sam had first moved into the room, just as he always did. It took him only a few seconds of looking through the contents of his duffel to find the small bottle of lube he always kept there.

Better be safe than sorry. And Dean Winchester was nothing if not prepared for this sort of thing.

Castiel eyed the bottle with clear curiosity, as if he might be able to solve all of its mysteries just by looking at it. He probably could, though they didn’t exactly have the time for that at the moment. Dean’s cock was aching, leaking pre-come and begging for attention, and judging by the very visible tent in Cas’ boxers, Dean could only assume the angel wasn’t in a much different situation than he was.

“This is lube,” Dean held up the bottle for the angel to have a better look, before popping it open with a click, “We need it. I mean, two guys need it, if you get what I mean.”

Castiel simply nodded at that, but said nothing, still having an intense stare-off with the small bottle.

“Give me your hand.”

When Cas did what he asked, Dean poured some of the lube onto the angel’s fingers, making sure his digits were completely covered with the substance. When he was happy with it, he laid the small bottle by his side because they would need it later, before grabbing the hem of his own underwear and pulling it all the way down to his legs, lifting his ass from the mattress and taking it off completely. His dick twitched at the hungry look that took over Cas’ face when he looked down at his length, and he actually gasped when the angel licked his lips. Dean was sure those lips would feel amazing on his cock, but he didn’t want to press Cas into doing something he might not be ready for just yet. Maybe next time, though. Dean almost felt giddy at the thought of doing this again, and he allowed a small smile to touch his lips because of it.

Without a word, he took Cas’ wrist in his own hand, guiding it back down toward his dick though passing by it just like the angel had earlier, going straight for his entrance. The lube felt cold as it touched the rim, but Dean knew from experience it would heat up in no time.

“You need to stretch me before anything else. Just one finger first,” Dean managed to let out, somehow finding his voice and forming a coherent sentence when Cas’ hand was just there, a few inches from his hole. Cas was quick to comply, closing his hand with only his forefinger stretched. “Now, go slow.” He nudged the hand toward his entrance, pulling it until Cas’ finger was simply teasing at the rim, leaving it to Cas to actually push the digit in.

Cas didn’t need to be told twice.

Slowly and carefully, his brows furrowed in a look of pure concentration as he studied Dean’s face with those intense blue eyes of his, Cas pushed his finger inside, stretching the tight muscles of the hunter’s entrance bit by bit until his finger actually slid inside, the cool lube making it slide in quite easily. Dean gritted his teeth at the burn of the stretch, because it had been a long time since the last time he had done this, but he did his best not to let it show on his face. He didn’t want Cas to think he was hurting him or something, or that Dean didn’t want this. The initial burn would be very, _very_ much worth it in the end.

Something must have shown in his face, though, because when his finger was just halfway in Cas paused, his eyes suddenly filled with worry.  “Am I hurting you?” He sounded truly terrified at the thought that Dean might be in pain.

Dean shook his head, gasping for air as he willed his body to adjust to the sudden intrusion. “It always hurts a little in the beginning. Don’t worry, the pain will fade. Trust me.” When Cas showed no intention of continuing, Dean added, “I’m fine, Cas, really.”

Cas didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he still continued, burying his finger inside Dean until his knuckle touched Dean’s ass. He just stayed there, though, and it took Dean a while to realize that the angel was actually waiting to hear what he was supposed to do next.

“You can move it now, Cas,” Dean breathed out, glad that his body was already welcoming the finger better than at first, getting used to its presence.

Cas did what he was told, slowly at first, but then more eagerly as Dean began to let out a few little gasps depending on how me moved his finger. He explored the movement for a while, until the pain finally faded completely and Dean told him to add another finger, which the angel hurried to do. Cas experimented folding his fingers at one point, and Dean all but saw stars in the inside of his eyelids as his entire body tensed, a loud moan escaping his lips because Cas had just hit his prostate and oh god, he had to feel that again.

“Right there, Cas,” Dean gasped, his back arching and spreading his legs as much as he could while Cas continued to finger him, hitting that spot several times, making Dean squirm and thrash under him, turning the human into a moaning mess under his ministrations. He felt like such a whore at that moment, but he didn’t even care.

At some point, Cas slid in a third finger without even need to be told to do it. He was a fast learner, apparently, and Dean couldn’t be happier about that.

It was becoming too much for Dean, though. Not that he didn’t love the feeling of Cas’ fingers buried in his ass, scissoring him open and getting his hole dripping with lube. He loved that _a lot_ , actually. But he needed Cas’ dick in him, before he went mad, which meant he needed it right the fuck _now_.

“Cas,” Dean whined, barely managing to get any words out in between moans, “Cas, I…oh, god, right there, just like that,” He threw his head back, his back arching off the bed as he moaned. He was so, _so_ close… “Cas, please, I… I need you… inside me…”

The growl that escaped Cas’ throat at those words shouldn’t be possible to be made from a human throat. But then again, Cas wasn’t human.

Dean shivered at the coldness that followed Cas’ fingers as the angel pulled his hand back, leaving Dean hard and empty, panting and pretty much begging to be fucked. Opening his eyes, Dean watched as Cas removed his own underwear, freeing his erection.

Dean’s eyes actually widened at the sight of Cas’ dick because _holy shit, Cas was big_. It was leaking, too, and it looked more than ready to go into his ass. Dean actually moaned at the thought, biting into his lower lip, hoping the pain would be enough to stop him from coming right then and there. It worked, though just barely.

Somehow Dean managed to realize there was still something they had to do before Cas’ cock was actually inside him, and he moved his hand to the side blindly, reaching for the small bottle of lube he had left there earlier. He found it easily enough, pouring a generous amount onto his palm as Cas watched.

He tossed the small bottle to the side, discarded, and reached forward, not even hesitating before grabbing Cas’ cock in his hand.

The moan that ripped out of Cas’ mouth was filthy and so fucking loud it was borderline pornographic. The angel closed his eyes, his face contorting into an expression of pure pleasure, which almost had Dean coming right then and there again. He bit down at his tongue this time, almost hard enough to draw blood, and fortunately that was enough to delay his orgasm for the time being.

Dean was quick to work the lube onto Cas’ shaft, rubbing and giving the member just a few quick strokes, just enough to get it covered with lube. Then he retrieved his hand, hoping Cas would get the hint that he was ready.

The angel didn’t need to hear a word. He opened his eyes, eyeing Dean with lust-filled eyes for just a second before he grabbed Dean’s left leg and hoisting it over his hipbone, holding it there to keep it in place. Dean gasped in surprise at the movement, because he really hadn’t expected Cas to do that, but before he could actually wonder how exactly Cas learned to do that, he felt Cas’ cock at his entrance and then he was sliding in and _holy fuck this is actually happening_.

Dean moaned like a whore on the job as Cas slid in, filling him in a way he had never been filled before. He was so hot and big and hard and much more than Dean could have ever imagined during the handful of times he'd allowed himself to actually fantasize about this very moment.

Cas lifted Dean’s body a little, wrapping an arm under the hunter’s body and pressing Dean’s front to his own, burying his face in the spot where Dean’s neck connected with his shoulder like he had before, his heavy, erratic breathing sending goose bumps washing over Dean’s skin at the feeling of it. Dean spread his legs as far apart as he could with one leg hanging over the angel’s body, taking Cas all the way in, until he completely bottomed out.

 “You’re…” Cas was breathing even more heavily than before, clearly having trouble with getting even a few words out, “You’re so… tight…”

A moment went by when nothing could be heard in the room but the pair’s gasps as they adjusted. Dean’s body accepted Cas’ presence inside him soon enough, but the angel didn’t make any movement, probably afraid to hurt him. But Dean was already growing impatient because Cas was actually inside him right now and why the hell wasn’t he moving?

“Cas, move,” Dean growled.

Cas didn’t need to be told twice.

With a quick snap his hips, he drew out and pushed back in, sliding in and out in one quick, easy motion that had Dean throwing his head back onto the pillows and moaning loudly, his hands gripping the bed sheets around him because _Cas was actually fucking him right now_ and holy shit this felt so fucking good, _so fucking good_ …

Cas was slow at first, but his patience and self-control seemed to run out very quickly, so much he was thrusting in and out frantically in no time, the bed shifting under their movements loudly, causing the wooden headboard to bang against the room wall repeatedly in tune with the erotic sound of skin slapping against skin, naked and wet from sweat.

At some point, Cas hooked his hand under Dean’s other leg and lifted it over his other hipbone. Dean took that as a chance to wrap his ankles together behind Cas, which had them both moaning in unison as that allowed Dean to take Cas even deeper inside of him than before.

The hand that wasn’t holding onto Dean’s leg for dear life was clutching to the human’s side, gripping it so strongly Dean was sure it would leave a bruise, but he couldn’t care less in that moment. That knowledge actually turned him on ever more. He moved his hips up against Cas’, following the angel’s movement and taking him as deep as he would go in him, using the angel’s body as leverage for support.

“Faster, Cas,” the sound that escaped Dean’s throat was very close to a broken whimper as he said it. The angel growled in response, but quickly complied, finding an even quicker pace, angling his hips until he found that very spot inside Dean that had his entire body convulsing against the angel’s, his muscles tensing as he moaned, “Right there, Cas, right there, oh god, Cas…”

Cas made sure to hit that spot every time, acing it without mistake. Dean’s hands were opening and closing around the bed sheets. His entire body felt like it was on fire and his muscles stopped responding to his commands. All he knew was pleasure in that moment as the first few sparks of his orgasm started to build at the pit of his stomach. Every thrust of Cas’ hips pushed him closed to the edge, brought him closer to his sweet completion, to the climax he so desperately needed…

“Cas… I’m close… I… Just like that, oh god, just like that, ah…”

Cas’s own movements were getting less controlled, more like small spasms, his labored breathing even more uneven than it had been before, which was enough for Dean to know the angel was also close. Just a few more thrusts… Just a little more… He was almost there…

And that was the moment Cas chose to lean away from Dean’s shoulder, for the first time since Cas had been inside him allowing the hunter to actually have a good look at his face.

The angel was completely undone. His cheeks were pink, flushed with color, while his hair was messier than Dean had ever seen it being, which said something, considering Cas did suffer from a chronic case of sex-hair. A thin layer of sweat covered every single inch of his body, making his skin glister slightly in the early morning light that managed to get into the room through the closed curtains.

His eyes were dark, so much Dean couldn’t see his irises anymore; all that there was in them was the black of his dilated pupils.

The best thing about the sight, though, was Cas’ face, the expression of pure ecstasy that had taken over Cas’ features, the one that was there because of _Dean_. All of it, everything in front of his eyes, was happening because of _him_.

All it took was one more thrust with them looking at each other, just one, for Cas to lose it. Dean saw the exact moment Cas went over the edge, the way his entire body tensed up as a gasp formed on his lips, his eyes moving up because he just couldn’t control them anymore. That, right there, was what drove Dean over the edge with him.

Dean threw his head back as he came, his release coming out of his cock in quick spurts as his entire body trembled, relishing in the waves of the most intense orgasm of his entire life as his muscles convulsed. Above him, Cas let out a broken moan as the angel's body shook with his own release, shuddering as his come filled Dean with warmness from inside.

Dean felt his entire body heating up, starting where Cas was buried in him and radiating upwards, filling every single inch of his body in pure heat. He was still coming, even almost a minute later, but he still managed to open his eyes as Cas lit up with what Dean assumed was Grace. He watched as light flooded the room, washing over every single surface, taking over everything it touched with its unearthly brightness. Dean knew he should close his eyes, but he couldn’t. His entire body had stopped responding to his mind by now.

Light filled his vision, turning everything a blue-ish white as the heat finally seemed to engulf his whole being, numbing his entire body and making him forget who he was.

Dean could only take a few seconds of that before he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it, my first attempt at a Destiel story! :D It is also my very first attempt at writing gay sex, so I'm a little nervous about it, to be honest.
> 
> I'll try to update soon, hopefully it won't take too long, I already have a few more chapters written ;)
> 
> Please don't be shy about leaving me a comment, I love them very much! ;D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I really didn't expect so much positive feedback for this story! :O Thank you all so much for the kind comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions! You guys are amazing! :D
> 
> So, in this chapter this story really starts to earn the "Castiel Being an Idiot" tag... Don't worry, there is an explanation for everything, so please keep in mind that things might not be exactly what they seem to be, or at least what Dean thinks they are ;)
> 
> By the way, I've made a few changes to the storylines of the episodes after 10x10, because a lot of things would not fit with the plot of this story. So there are some things that will be *sort of* canon compliant, and others that won't at all. For... reasons ;)

Dean groaned as he slowly slipped into consciousness.

The first thing he noticed was the ache. Every single muscles of his body hurt, even when he wasn’t trying to move them. He must have worked one hell of a hunt the day before, or maybe he was just getting too old for this. Either way, he just couldn’t find it in him to move for a long time, instead just enjoying the bed he was lying on for a little longer, even if the cheap motel mattress definitely wasn’t that comfortable. Anything was better than moving, so the lumpy bed would be more than enough. Despite the insistent complaints from all over his body, he rolled over to his side, wrapping the comforter a little tighter around himself as he allowed his head to sink into the pillow with a sigh.

His skin was tingling, for some reason. Like when you get shocked and get that lingering feeling for a while after, only that the feeling was in his entire body instead of a limited section of it. And he had been sleeping, so that couldn’t have happened. What had he been hunting, anyway? Maybe that feeling had something to do with that.

He shifted his leg a little and hissed in pain because _wow_ , why was he hurting _there?_ Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been hunting, because no hunt he could think of would have him hurt somewhere so private. No, he had felt that kind of pain a few before, so he must have gotten laid last night, and man, it must have been good, considering just how sore he was feeling right now. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been _that_ sore after bottoming.

He smirked at that thought, because it had been a long time since he had last had sex. He had been feeling the need for it less and less over the past few years, so much it had become kind of a rare occurrence, but apparently, he had enjoyed himself a lot last night.

But who…

Dean’s eyes shot open.

_Cas._

_I slept with Cas._

_Holy shit, I slept with Cas._

Slowly, it all came back to him. The witch hunt, Sam getting stabbed, taking his brother to the hospital, calling Cas, tucking the angel into his bed after he healed Sam, getting drunk on the hood of the Impala at some clearing, somehow ending up on top of Cas on the bed because drunk him was an idiot and waking the angel up, Cas’ confession and his own, and then the sex, which was without a doubt the best sex of his entire life.

Soreness momentarily forgotten, Dean shot up on the bed, eyeing the room around him because for some reason, he needed to see Cas to know that this had _actually_ happened and he hadn’t just dreamed about it. Although the aching muscles and everything else should be enough to convince him.

But the angel was nowhere in sight. The bed beside Dean was cold and unused, which led him to realize Cas had left a long time ago, at least a few hours. Swallowing thickly, Dean tried to recall exactly what had happened after they’d had sex, but his mind just wouldn’t give him anything back.

He remembered the light; the bright, white-blue light that had flooded the room while he felt like something was trying to burn him from the inside. He remembered coming harder and longer than he had ever come in his entire life. But after that, his mind came up blank.

Well, he knew Cas must have covered him with the comforter afterwards, because that comforter actually hadn’t been on the bed last night, at least not when he and Cas had been getting busy. It had been thrown over the edge of the bed and landed on the floor at some point for getting in the way of their current activities. But Cas had apparently picked it up and covered him with it at some point.

But then the angel had left. Why did he leave?

Dean didn’t want to think too much of that, but couldn’t Cas have stayed? Maybe he sounded like a teenage girl or whatever, but it would have been good to wake up and find Cas cuddled up with him. The single thought of it already made his stomach flutter. God, when had he become such a chick?

Cas must have had a reason to leave. Hannah or some other angel might have called him and Cas just _had_ to go, because for some reason, he still did everything he could to help those winged dicks, even though they had done nothing for him in return, ever. They just wanted to use him, but no matter how many times Dean tried to get the angel to see that, he couldn’t. Cas just refused to accept that. Or maybe he did, but still couldn’t stay away, because he still considered those guys family, even after everything they’d put him through.

Dean tried to convince himself he was fine with that, that he had already got used to Cas leaving like that, but it hurt. He had literally given himself over to Cas completely the night before, and the angel was gone the next morning, like what they had done hadn’t meant a thing. Like a simple one night stand you wanted to get away from as soon as you were done with them, sneaking out while the slept and not leaving any evidence behind.

Because Cas’ clothes were gone. Every single piece, from the pants and socks and shoes that had been tossed to the floor to the suit jacket and coat and belt that had been lying on the chair by the wall. All of it was gone.

Letting out a breath, Dean forced his body to move, throwing the comforter off his body and hissing at the feeling of cold air hitting his skin. Had it been this cold here yesterday? He couldn’t remember.

Even without his mind’s consent, Dean still found his eyes searching the room for any sort of note or sign or literally _anything_ Cas might have left behind for him. But of course, he found nothing. He did his best not to think too much of just how disappointed that made him.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to get out of this room, and he had to go see Sam, who was still in the hospital, but hopefully fine and cured and ready to get out of there. Maybe he could be released today already. Dean hoped so. He really wanted to get out of this town. That would help him get his mind off what had happened last night.

He found all of his clothes in a tidy little pile on a chair by the bathroom door. What the hell was Cas trying to do here?

Rummaging through his clothes, Dean found his phone in the jacket’s inside pocket, quickly checking its screen for any missed calls or text messages (Cas had grown quite fond of texting during the past few weeks, for some reason, using a lot of emoticons. Dean thought it was kind of adorable, but of course he would _never_ say such a thing out loud), but there was nothing there.

He had always thought he would feel almost giddy if something like last night ever happened to him. Of course, he had never even considered the possibility that one day he might actually get to have Cas like that, but it _had_ happened, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Because in all of his wildest fantasies, Cas hadn’t left him the moment they had been done without a single word or message or anything at all.

But maybe he was overreacting. Maybe Cas had just left and would be back soon. Maybe he hadn’t even taken off. Maybe he was still in town. His car hadn’t even been here at the motel, and he wouldn’t have _walked_ all the way across town to the hospital just to leave, right? Or… would he? Dean hoped not. He was in no state to do that.

Clinging tightly to the thought a lot more strongly than he probably should, Dean decided for a quick shower before went to see Sam, taking his soiled underwear with him to give it a little cleaning until he and Sam stopped at an actual Laundromat in a few days to do their laundry. Thinking that maybe Cas was still around calmed his nerves to some degree, and Dean was actually able to shower quickly and put on some clean clothes without much thought.

The Mark burned on his arm angrily, though Dean wasn’t sure what it meant, because its chanting was a little less coherent today. Dean had no idea why, and it wasn’t like he actually wanted to know.

At least he didn’t have a hangover today, so that was a plus. Cas had really taken away the alcohol last night.

Memories from the night before still kept replaying in his head on a constant loop as he eyed the bed almost longingly. He had never even allowed himself to hope too much that something like this would ever happen, but it _had_ , and he still couldn’t really wrap his mind around it. He just had never thought he would feel so confused after it.

The feel of Cas’ skin under his hands was fresh in his mind, warm and covering strong, firm muscles that moved with precision under his palms. It had been different to see Cas without, well, _nothing_ on basically, although Dean had imagined what the angel could be hiding under so many layers of clothing plenty of times before. It had been a surprise still, because Cas was _toned._ The single sight of it had been enough to make his mouth water the night before, though he hadn’t exactly had the time to admire Cas too much or say anything about it at the time. Well, of course, the body had been Jimmy’s at some point, but Cas was doing one hell of a job keeping it in shape.

Cas had been very urgent the night before, and Dean knew he had too. It had felt amazing to just give in to all those feelings and sensations, but now that Dean was relatively more clear headed, he realized that maybe they had rushed a bit too much into things. Shouldn’t they have talked more? Or maybe gone a little slower? But everything had been so new and amazing and the Mark might have helped a little bit, and Dean just hadn’t found it in him to slow down.

Now he realized maybe he should have held back a little. If Cas had in fact left, that meant that there was something wrong. Maybe he regretted it. Maybe that had been a moment of weakness and when it was over the angel realized it had been a mistake, which was definitely not something Dean thought of it (not even close), but he couldn’t know what Cas thought of it. They hadn’t exactly exchanged many words about actual feelings last night, sticking to just establishing that they were attracted to each other, but that had been it.

And what if that was really all there was on Cas’ side? Just physical attraction? And Dean had been so happy that maybe Cas actually wanted something _more_ than just a one night stand… He had been stupid enough to even believe there might be another time.

That thought actually made Dean feel sick in his stomach. It got to a point where Dean made a decision. He had to know that Cas hadn’t just gathered his things and left. He had to know, because he refused to believe Cas would do that to him. Cas wasn’t exactly the ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of guy, anyway, so this didn’t exactly make sense. Dean just couldn’t picture it.

Before he could chicken out or realize that he was basically acting a little needy, Dean pulled his cell phone out from his jeans pocket and pressed the 2 on speed dial, bringing the device up to his ear as it rang as he stood in the center of the motel room, muscles tense and body frozen like a statue.

It went straight to voice mail.

He tried again, but Cas still wouldn’t pick up.

Dean decided to leave the angel a message on the third time, his chest tightening a little and making it a little hard to speak.

“Hey, Cas, uh…” What was he supposed to say? ‘I woke up when you were gone? Why did you leave? Where are you?’ He couldn’t let any of that out, so all he managed to say was, “I’m going to see Sam, so, uh… Call me when you can, alright?” He hung up after a few seconds of silence, during which he tried to come up with something else for him to say and realized he couldn’t think of anything else. And then called himself an idiot.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket after making sure it wasn’t on vibrate so he would hear it if he got a message or a call, he left the motel room, crossing the distance between himself and the Impala in a few wide strides, cursing his drunk self for the terrible parking. Had he really had been stupid enough to drive all the way back here drunk? That could have ended very, very badly, and he felt like punching his past self in the face for being so stupid. The list of reason to do just that kept growing and growing, it seemed.

When he got to the hospital, the first thing he looked for was Cas’ Pimpmobile. It almost hurt physically for Dean to realize that the monstrous car was in fact gone. So Cas _had_ actually walked all the way here, in his weakened state, just so he could get away from Dean.

Dean gritted his teeth together, shoving those thoughts away. The Mark burned even more now, _angry_ , like a rabid dog fuming at the mouth. Dean shook his head, attempting to clear it as he parked the Impala, got out of it and marched over to the sliding hospital doors.

The same nurse from the other day was there, the Asian one he had yelled at. In spite of that, she smiled kindly at him once he walked inside. That was already enough to make him feel better, because it could only mean one thing—Sam was alright. The single thought of it was enough to distract him; to take his mind off the intern turmoil that seemed to be engulfing his every rational thought, and he hurried to talk to the lady he had almost punched a few hours ago. Or… how long had it been? It was almost dark again, so he assumed he had slept through the next day or so.

“Mr. Collins? I was almost worried about you,” the woman chuckled, the sound almost nervous, as though she wasn’t sure how to talk to Dean. Weird. Well, he did leave quite an impression on her the last time he had been here. “You didn’t leave any number for contact, so we couldn’t reach you.”

Dean refrained from telling her he wouldn’t have picked up his phone even if she had called him. “Well, do you have news? How’s my brother?”

“You brother woke up two days ago, Mr. Collins, and he has been stable since then. The doctors can’t explain it, but he was suddenly fine. He did not even need another surgery. The internal bleeding stopped and the stab wound was almost gone. We’re not sure what to think of it, really, other than he must have a pretty good guardian angel, because this is certainly a miracle.”

Dean didn’t really hear anything after the first sentence. _Two days?_ No, that can’t be right. He was here yesterday, and Sam was still unconscious. Dean was sure he couldn’t have been out of this place for longer than 24 hours. Sure, he had slept a lot, but he hadn’t—

“When was the last time I was here?” The words flew from his mouth before he could think them through. Maybe he should have thought of a better way to ask that, but his thoughts were racing at the moment and he really couldn’t find it in himself to slow down.

The nurse gave him an odd look, clearly not understanding the question and probably considering his sanity, but she answered anyway. “That was three days ago, Mr. Collins.”

_Three days._

He had been here with Cas three days ago. He had gotten drunk three days ago. He had slept with Cas three days ago. He had been out for _three fucking days_.

It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t remember anything after he and Cas had sex, so he must have been unconscious this whole time, and that meant that he hadn’t been sleeping, as he had thought. No, something had happened and he had been knocked unconscious _for three fucking days_.

All he could remember was light. At the time, he couldn’t really care about it, but now he realized that must have meant something. That couldn’t have been normal. Or could it? Did angels light up like a Christmas tree when they came? Or had something happened to Cas? That must have been the reason why he had left.

“Sir?”

Right, he was still staring at the woman like he was nuts. He had better pull himself together before she decided the hospital should have him checked mentally or something, because yeah, that wouldn’t go well at all.

“Sorry,” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I just remembered something. So, does that mean I can go see my brother now?”

The woman eyed him for a moment still, like she wasn’t entirely convinced about his sanity, and Dean offered her an almost sheepish smile in reassurance. Finally, she ended up replying, “Yes. He is in room 407. Would you like to go there now?”

“Yeah,” he was quick to reply.

The nurse nodded tightly. “Follow me, then.”

When they got to the room, Sam was awake.

The sight of his brother actually sitting up on the bed, a bored expression on his face as he changed the channels of the small TV with the remote that looked way too small in his gigantic hands, his face no longer pale but actually a _healthy_ looking color, finally allowed a breath of relief to escape Dean’s lips. His brother was _fine_.

“Mr. Collins,” the nurse smiled at Sam, calling his brother’s attention.

Sam’s head turned at the sound, and a smile took over his features the next second. God, it felt so good to see that smile again. For a terrible, dark and dread-filled moment, Dean had thought he never would.

“Hey,” was his brother’s greeting, deliberately not calling him by his first name, Dean quickly noticed, because that would blow the whole ‘fake names for fake health insurance’ thing. Smart boy.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, “How you holding up?”

“Call me if you need anything,” the nurse smiled at the pair, before quietly leaving the room.

Dean watched her go, before turning back to his brother, waiting for an answer. There were still a few cuts on his skin and some dark bruises that would for sure linger for a while, but those in no way threatened his brother’s life, and for that, Dean was grateful. Cas had apparently only healed the most urgent wounds that could in some way kill Sam, leaving all the small things that weren’t as dangerous, but as long as Sam was alive and breathing, Dean was happy.

Dean ignored the bitter feeling that followed the sound of Cas’ name inside his head. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about the angel.

“I’m fine, I think,” Sam responded calmly, his eyes following his brother’s movements with attention as Dean walked over to the bed and took a seat on the chair placed with beside it, “What happened? I think I blacked out.”

Dean nodded lightly, shuddering at the image of his brother bleeding and almost unconscious as he dragged him to the car and drove him to this very hospital. He never wanted to go through that panic again, even though it hadn’t been the first time. Watching Sam on the verge of death definitely hadn’t been easier this time than the first time it had happened, and he doubted it ever would get any easier.

“You did. I carried you to the car and drove you here. They took you into surgery as soon as they got you in.”

Sam nodded, considering the words inside his head. “And then?” There was something to his voice, and edge Dean couldn’t entirely understand.

Dean swallowed thickly, because he really didn’t want to think about what he had gone through. Because Sam had almost died, and for hours Dean had paced around in that waiting room feeling helpless and hating on his own stupidity, wishing that it was him in there and not his baby brother. But Sam had the right to know, even though Dean didn’t exactly want to talk about it.

“The doctors didn’t think you’d make it,” the words felt heavy on his tongue, struggling to leave his suddenly lumpy throat.

“They told me it was a miracle I was alive,” Sam’s voice was actually weird now, and suddenly it became clear just what he was thinking, “The nurse said I must have a pretty good guardian angel.” Sam swallowed, clearly thinking over his words, and Dean just waited for the question he just knew he would be hearing. “Dean, what did you do?”

Because of course Sam was already thinking he had made a deal or something. Because that was the Winchesters did, even though it never ended well.

“I called Cas, Sam,” Dean could actually _see_ the relief flood his brother’s face as soon as he said it, “He couldn’t heal you completely, but he did save your life.”

Sam was already nodding, accepting the explanation and clearly happy that his brother’s soul was still intact. Well, as intact as it would be with the Mark, anyway. “That explains why the cuts and bruises are still here. But was Cas okay with doing this? I mean, isn’t his Grace… burning out?”

Dean actually looked away at that, fixating his gaze on the wall by the window, because suddenly the image of Cas pale and almost passing out, supporting his weight on Dean because he couldn’t stand on his own, was back to the forefront of his mind. Even if Cas _had_ left at some point while Dean wasn’t awake (which sort of made sense now, considering that Dean had been out for three days) it still hurt, because it was still their reality. Cas was still dying, and he had come to their rescue yet again, wasting some of his precious Grace on them like it was nothing; like it wouldn’t kill him faster.

Dean was starting to believe maybe he shouldn’t have called Cas. But then Sam wouldn’t be here, and that was something Dean didn’t even want to think about.

No, he did the right thing calling Cas. But maybe getting drunk had been a pretty stupid idea. At least he admitted _that_ one.

“He was pretty shaken after he healed you,” Dean forced the words out, because Sam was clearly still waiting for an answer, “So I took him to the motel and let him sleep it off. I actually had to take care of him for some time.” That sounded believable, and it was the story Dean would stick to, because he sure as hell wouldn’t be telling Sam that he had actually had sex with another guy, much less that the guy had been Cas. Nope, not happening at all.

“Is that why it took you so long to come here?” Sam inquired.

“Yeah, it was,” Dean knew he was lying to his brother through his teeth, and that doing that never ended well for them, but he couldn’t find another way to have this conversation with Sam. The truth wasn’t exactly something Dean could speak out loud in this case. “I forgot to leave a number for them to call and the hospital couldn’t reach me, so I only now found out you had woken up already. I would have come her sooner if I had known.”

Sam nodded lightly at that, clearly thinking Dean’s words over but fortunately buying the store without asking too many questions. “And where is Cas now?”

 _I wish I knew._ “He left this morning,” Dean did his best to sound nonchalant about it, like it didn’t hurt to say those words, “Some angel business or whatever. You know how he is.”

Much to his relief, Sam didn’t ask any more questions and bought his story easily, and Dean couldn’t be happier for it.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam would still have to spend one more night at the hospital for observation and to make sure he was alright, because the doctors were still unsure about his miraculous sudden recover, but he would be released the next day if everything went well, so that was some good news.

When Dean stepped out of the room to get them both something to eat from the hospital cafeteria, Dean made a little detour, walking out of the hospital and standing outside, where there was no one in sight. He still double checked to make sure he was alone, though, because this was something no one should be hearing.

With slightly shaky fingers, Dean dialed the same number he had called three (he still couldn’t get over that number) days ago. Bringing the phone up to his ear, he waited, puffing out a cloud of warm breath into the cold night air and watching as it turned into fog right before his eyes. Fuck, winter was still going strong in this place.

Just like the previous time he had tried to reach Cas, his calls were left unanswered. Dean didn’t even bother to try more than once, instead just going straight to leaving a message in hope that Cas would actually return his calls soon.

“Cas, I need to talk to you. Something… Something’s not right. Please, call me when you can.”

He still lingered outside for a few seconds, stupidly staring at his phone, as if that would make Cas call him or at least give Dean a sign that the angel was even getting those messages. But of course, that didn’t happen.

With a sigh, Dean spun around and walked back inside.

***~*~*~*~***

“Dean, I’m not a little kid, you know that right?” Sam asked, giving his brother an annoyed look as Dean walked inside his brother’s room, bringing Sam food in his room on a little tray, like he had being doing with every single meal of the day.

It had been about a week after Sam had been released from the hospital, and after two days of driving, they had finally gotten back to the bunker a few days ago. And of course, Sam was immediately on bed rest as soon as they were home, making sure he didn’t do anything that might put his life danger.

“Sorry, Sam, doctor’s orders were no effort for three weeks, and that’s what you’re going to do,” Dean told him for the tenth time in the last few days, “Now shut up and eat your dinner.”

Sam gave him Bitchface number #38, but complied without a word. It wasn’t like the food wasn’t good. Dean knew he was a good cook, in all modesty, of course. His moose of a brother wouldn’t leave anything on the plate after a meal, but he still had to whine about eating in bed and Dean treating him like a kid. Well, tough, Dean was looking out for his little brother and he should just keep quiet and be happy about it.

Leaving Sam with his meal (orange chicken with a siding of steamed rabbit food he had whined for when Dean brought him lunch without the damn thing) Dean walked out of his brother’s room and headed to the kitchen, intending to do some cleaning up before diving into more research on the Mark, even though he already knew he wouldn’t find anything. They had already gone through almost every single book in the Bunker and hadn’t found single mention of it, and Dean doubted that would change with the very few volumes they hadn’t yet gone through.

He wasn’t going to tell Sam about it, but the Mark had been more active in the past few days than it had been in quite a while. It wouldn’t even let Dean sleep some nights, just whispering things and constantly reminding Dean of its thirst for blood and death. Sometimes Dean would have to just go for a drive to clear up his head in the middle of the night, but even that wasn’t working anymore. The urge to drink was there too, but Dean made a point of stray clear from alcohol for the time being, afraid that he might go overboard again and end up saying or doing something stupid, since he now knew he couldn’t rely on his own self-control anymore.

He had made an exception in the witch hunt, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Shoving any thoughts that could have anything to do with a certain blue-eyed angel away from his mind, Dean began scrubbing some dirty dishes, as if he could also cleanse his mind of unwanted thoughts and memories. He had decided to try and pretend nothing had happened, but that was a lot easier said than done. How the hell was he supposed to forget something like that? How do you even begin to forget the one time you got to have the person you love in your arms? To kiss them and touch them in ways you had been sure you would never get to? Dean knew it was pretty much impossible, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Because if he didn’t, the thoughts that kept run through his head in a constant loop during the past few days threatened to just drive him mad.

It was better to try to forget about it. He had been stupid enough to think it would mean something; that it would change something, but apparently, he didn’t mean that much to Cas. The angel had just fled as soon as the opportunity showed, not even having the decency to leave a note or pick up the damn phone when Dean called. Honestly, Dean had already given up on trying to contact Cas; had for a few days now, to be honest. What was the point of it? The angel wasn’t going to show. What happened between them had been nothing more than a simple one night stand; one that Cas apparently didn’t want to see again.

Dean had screwed up. He knew he had. He had screwed up big time, and he had no idea how to fix it. He wasn’t sure if there was even a way _to_ fix it at all.

He wanted to blame it on the Mark of Cain. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol. He wanted to blame it on the bartender who had actually sold him that whole bottle of whiskey. He wanted to blame it on the freaking witch that had almost killed Sam and gotten him a wounded shoulder and a broken rib, plus a few cuts here and there. He wanted to blame it on the freaking moon for just being up there in the sky, laughing at him because he was just so fucking  _stupid_.

But he knew it was all on him in the end. He really was the only one to blame for all of it. It really had been entirely his fault, after all.

He should have stopped. He should have freaking _talked_ to Cas to make sure that was something the angel actually wanted. He should have _asked_ Cas if all he felt for him was attraction, because if that was the case, then Dean could have prepared himself for what would inevitably come next.

What he felt for Cas was so much more than just physical attraction. He didn’t just want one night of sex and then to walk away like nothing happened the next morning (kind of the next morning, anyway). He didn’t want to just have a quick one night stand with him and pretend it never happened afterwards. He _loved_ Cas, a notion that was so truly terrifying it had taken him _years_ to actually come to terms with it.

If he had known that sex was all that Cas had wanted, he wouldn’t have allowed things to have gone that far. He wouldn’t have allowed himself to grow hopeful that things would change between them; that they would have something, _be_ something more to each other.

He had been so _fucking_ stupid.

And it was his fault. His pain, the nagging ache in his heart, the sick feeling in his stomach he got whenever he remembered waking up to an empty bed; that had all been his own damn fault.

Dean was pretty sure Sam would pick up on it eventually. Of course, Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his brother the whole story, but he knew the Sam would be smart enough to figure out there was something wrong with him; that there was something weird going on between him and Cas. He could only brush off Cas’ absence like something normal for so long.

And if Cas did show up here one day, what the hell was Dean supposed to say? His mind changed about that daily, it seemed. He couldn’t decide if he was more hurt or betrayed, he wanted to punch and kiss Cas, he wanted to see Cas now and not look at him ever again, he wanted to hear what the angel had to say and he didn’t want to hear a word at all. It was maddening, a whirlwind of emotions inside his head that he had no idea how to control, and he hated it.

The plate he had been holding clattered against the others as his right hand shook. The Mark was awake again, burning like an angry animal, hissing soundlessly in hatred of pretty much everything that existed. It hated that Dean had so much self-control, because really, he knew most people would have broken because of it already. He had already broken, really, but it was surprising he had even the slightest bit of sanity left in his mind to know when the Mark was trying to influence him and to try and hold it back, even if just barely.

He wasn’t sure for just how long he could take this, though. Not much, he guessed, but he wasn’t going to tell Sam that.

Sometimes he just wanted it to end; to die and be done with it, but if he died, the Mark would bring him back, like it had before. And he would be a demon again. And maybe this time, he might actually kill Sam, or Cas. And he couldn’t have that. No matter how hurt he was over the angel walking out on him, he would never, ever, forgive himself for killing Cas. And his brother? He wouldn’t survive it if he killed Sam.

He knew that if he hurt either his brother or the angel, he wouldn’t be able to come back like he had the previous time. He just wouldn’t, because you don’t come back from something like that. And honestly, he would rather continue being a monster if that happened if it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of the loss, of the guilt and despair, because he knew it would destroy him to realize that he had hurt one of (or both) the people that mattered the most to him in the world.

Gritting his teeth, Dean rubbed the Mark over his shirt in a useless attempt to quiet it down, as though soothing a terrified, angry animal. It didn’t work. If anything, it only got even angrier for having its requests ignored.

_Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill…_

Wishing more than anything that the damn thing would just shut the fuck up, Dean tried to focus on the dishes before him. If he didn’t think about it, then the chanting wouldn’t affect him as much.

_Kill, kill… You know you want to…_

Cursing under his breath, Dean gripped the edge of the sink tightly, shutting his eyes closed. His hold was so strong his hand hurt a little, and while the pain wasn’t pleasant, it was a momentary relief to the voices echoing inside his head, tormenting his every thought and slowly driving him closer to the abyss of insanity and chaos. It was a spiral he sometimes feared he would lose control of at any second.

_Break… break… make bleed…_

The room was spinning. What the hell was up with this thing? It hadn’t been like this before, and it was only getting worse each day that passed. Dean had killed the witch a week ago; the Mark should be happy with that and give him a few days of calm and silence. That had been how it worked before, but it seemed to be growing more demanding, more impatient for blood. Dean dreaded the thought that it would only get worse, and that it would take less and less time for the Mark to decide he needed to kill again. How long until I became insatiable? How long until it killed him?

As if trying to make a point, the Mark burned even hotter in his arm, shining through the fabric of his shirt, begging for attention as it glowed. His arm grew numb, pain shooting through the joints of his elbow and shoulder. Biting into his hand, Dean muffled a choked groan of pain. It was getting worse, but he couldn’t let Sammy know about this. Sam didn’t need to worry about this. It was better this way.

A coughing fit followed, though it seemed almost unending. Blood was slipping through his lips in no time, and he spit it down into the sink, not paying the plates, glasses and mugs that were still there a second thought.

He was wheezing, struggling to breathe as the room around him spun and his lungs ached with their current effort to do their job. The air he swallowed didn’t seem to be enough for him, and the edges of his visions began to fade. He turned his body and supported his body on the kitchen table, but his grip wasn’t strong enough. With his heart hammering around inside his ribcage and his head throbbing like it might split open in just about any moment, Dean fell to the floor, his arm hitting something on the way (a plate, maybe?) and sending it down to the floor. He heard the sound of something break, but couldn’t focus his vision enough to see the mess.

Instead, he just lay there, spitting out the blood that wouldn’t stop flowing into his mouth, coughing as he tried to breathe through his clogged throat.

The last thing he saw was a figure towering over him. Or maybe he just imagined it; he wasn’t sure. He also thought he heard someone calling his name, but that might not have happened either.

He wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, anyway. The stars were above him in the sky and the road was just a few steps away from him. He limped, wheezing and struggling to breathe, his determination fading with each step. He had to hide… He had to find a safe place…

_Break it… Break… It can’t grow if it breaks…_

There was a wooden cottage in the distance, just a small cabin in the middle of the woods, hidden away from sight in the darkness of the night. He could see it clearly now. He knew he had to get there, but his leg was hurt and he could barely move. He didn’t stop, though. He wouldn’t be safe until he got inside of it. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t.

_Fade… Burn out and go to waste… It has to break...._

He wasn’t walking anymore. No, it was all dark. He didn’t know where he was anymore. All he knew was blackness, and the distant sound of chanting in his mind.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean wasn’t lying on the cold kitchen tiles anymore.  That was the first thing Dean noticed when he came to, and after feeling around with the tips of his fingers, he realized he must be in his bed, judging by the softness he could feel against his skin and supporting his weight. He must have blacked out. But how did he end up here?

Opening his eyes, Dean squinted at the brightness of the room around him. The lights seemed brighter than normal, stronger as they made his eyes burn. Wincing, he sat up, feeling his muscles sore and stiff, protesting against his every movement. When his vision finally adjusted, realized he had been right—he was indeed lying on his bed in the Bunker.

Damn it, Sam wasn’t supposed to have seen that, but he must have been the one that brought him here. So much for not having Sam worry about him.

“Sammy?” His throat ached at the effort, vocal chords feeling like they might be torn apart as he spoke, like he had just swallowed a bunch of glass and drank a bunch of gasoline to down it. He could still taste the blood in his mouth…

Dean heard Sam before he saw him. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed out in the hallway as his gigantic brother all but ran to his room, almost losing his balance as he emerged in the hallway. His eyes were wide, frantic as he took in the sight of Dean awake and sitting up on the bed. The moment he saw him, though, Dean could swear he saw about a hundred pounds being lifted from his brother’s shoulders.

Without a word, Sam crossed over to the bed and threw his arms around his brother, pulling him into a bear hug that threatened to turn Dean into a pancake. It hurt; Sam pressed his ribs in a way that made his lungs complain, but he kept quiet. Sam needed this. _He_ needed this. He really thought he would die then, and he was more than glad to find out he was still alive.

“How many times will I have to lie you down on this bed?”

Dean’s heart clenched at Sam’s wrecked words, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the devastated tone in his brother’s voice. It hurt to hear the pain in those words, to feel the desperation in the way his brother gripped him so tightly, like he was afraid if he let go, he might lose him. Dean knew Sam had brought him here into this room after Metatron killed him and laid him down on this very bed, just as his brother had apparently done again this time. But the last time, when Dean had woken up, he hadn’t been human. This time was different. He was still alive. Sam had to know that.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean muttered, his voice barely a chocked whisper. He would give anything not to have his brother go through this. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to tell Sam the Mark was bothering him again in the first place. “I’m okay.”

“You’re far from okay, Dean.” Sam pulled away, his eyes shining with tears he was clearly trying to hold back. Damn, Dean had really freaked him out, hadn’t he? “You were choking on your own blood, Dean, you couldn’t even breathe. I thought… I was sure…”

“I’m okay, Sammy, really. That was nothing, it was just…” It was far from nothing, he knew that, so he couldn’t find the right word to end that with. He knew Sam wouldn’t buy any excuse he might try to give, but he still had to try.

“The Mark,” Sam bit out the word like it was something poisonous, which wasn’t too far from the truth, anyway. It was a curse that only got worse with each day, and Dean was growing surer that it would end up winning in the end, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. “Damn it, Dean, why didn’t you say anything? How long has it been like that?”

Dean shrugged, choosing to look at the wall and not at Sam, because the Sasquatch was just too good at reading him, especially if he was looking at him in the eye. “A couple of days,” he tried to sound casual about it, even though this subject was far from that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam straighten up and take a few steps away from the bed, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of nervousness he had been doing a lot lately. Dean hated it, especially because usually he was the cause of it.

“Dean, you can’t keep this crap from me,” Sam’s tone was almost bitter, his voice low and strained, “You can’t just handle this on your own.”

“Of course I can.”

“No, Dean, you can’t!”

Dean snapped his head to the side, surprised at the sudden rise of his brother’s voice. He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t find a good response to that, so he closed it shut a moment later.

Sam didn’t seem willing to listen, anyway. “You can’t keep this crap away from me, Dean! I’m your brother, your family, and we’re supposed to get through stuff like this together! But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me about these things!”

Dean shook his head. He had known Sam would say this, he had expected every single one of those words, and yet, he couldn’t find it in him to regret keeping his brother in the dark. He didn’t want to put his brother through this. Sam had been through enough already; he didn’t need this. “It’s not that bad, Sammy.”

“Not that bad? Dean, I thought you were dying! You were barely breathing! I tried calling Cas, but he wouldn’t pick up.” Dean held back a snort at that. Like Cas not answering his freaking phone was a surprise, really. “And I didn’t know what to do. I was almost taking you to a freaking hospital!”

Dean actually scoffed at that. Because a hospital would help so much with something like the Mark of Cain.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, huh, Dean? Just let you die?”

The last part made Dean flinch. The words were so filled with anger, but also with such an unmistakable hint of despair, that Dean wasn’t sure how to respond. Gripping the bridge of his nose, he tried calming down and organizing his thoughts, because that was the only way he would be making it through this conversation.

For once, he knew he had to be honest about this with Sam. It pained him to put his little brother through this, but he knew he had no other choice, not now that his brother had seen what the Mark was doing to him. Sam wouldn’t have it any other way, anyway. He wouldn’t give up until Dean opened up, and his brother could be a pretty stubborn moose when he wanted to, just like Dean himself. Dean would be proud if it wasn’t so annoying.

“The Mark’s been… more active lately, I guess. Angrier, somehow. It keeps burning and whispering a lot more than it used to.”

“Whispering?” Sam frowned, taking a few steps toward the bed and sitting down on the edge, “It talks to you?”

Right, Dean never told Sam about that. He had never thought it relevant enough to mention it, and anyway, it wasn’t like Sam _needed_ to know that before. But now it mattered, because the things the Mark were saying were different this time, and that had to mean something.

“It always did, but not like this. Usually it just asks for me to kill something, but…” He shook his head, the memory of the voice he heard before he blacked out sending a chill down his spine, “It said something different when I passed out. Something it never said before.” Swallowing dryly, Dean forced himself to hold his brother’s gaze, “It kept saying that… Break it, and make it bleed. There was something about making something fade also, probably a metaphor for killing, too.”

Dean watched as the worry in Sam’s eyes grew even more intense at those words, a sight that formed a painful knot in his own stomach. He hated that look, but he hated it even more that he had been the one to put it there.

Sam was quiet for a long time, his jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly as he probably went through everything he had just heard in his head. Dean knew he was mad, just as he knew he would be too if it were the other way around. He had been mad when Sam had kept the damage from the Trials to close the Gates of Hell from him, but that had been different. Because it was Dean’s job to look out for his brother, it always had been.

Still, Sam didn’t yell at him again or try to reprimand him for not saying a thing, which was a true relief.

Finally, when Sam did do something other than stare thoughtfully at the wall, he simply stood up without saying a single word. There was something in his eyes, an emotion that had not been there before; something close to determination that Dean didn’t feel too happy about, which caused a feeling of uneasiness settle in his stomach. This couldn’t be good. Dean knew that look, and whatever came from it might not be good, he knew from experience.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked when he noticed Sam was walking over to the door.

“I’m gonna do research,” Sam said simply, not even glancing back at Dean as he exited the room.

Dean considered following him, but soon decided against it. Sam didn’t look like he wanted to talk, anyway. If anything, he actually looked like he wanted to be alone, and if Dean were honest, he wanted that too.

***~*~*~*~***

Things were awkward after that conversation.

Sam would watch Dean like a hawk, like he just expected him to drop dead at any second or something, which was pretty annoying, to be honest. But Dean knew there was nothing he could say that would convince his brother that he was okay, because in truth, he actually wasn’t. He was the opposite of okay, but he had tried so hard to hide that from his brother. He should have been more careful, but he hadn’t and now the secret was out and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

The tension inside the Bunker was rising with each day that passed, and it only seemed to be getting worse. It seemed to skyrocket about two days after the incident in the kitchen, when Sam had the brilliant idea of mentioning Cas.

“Hey, Dean, did you talk to Cas lately?” Sam asked, glancing up from the book he had been reading as Dean walked through the library, having just exited the kitchen after cleaning some dishes and being headed to his room, where he planned to stay to avoid his brother for the rest of the day.

Dean’s entire body grew stiff at that as he stopped walking. He had been trying so hard not to think about the angel, _so fucking hard_ , but his brother just had to go and bring him up. Yeah, thank you so much, Sammy.

Keeping his voice as controlled as he could, Dean let out a simple, “No, why?” He hoped it sounded as calm and uninterested as he had wanted it to, but he wasn’t so sure. Fortunately, Sam didn’t seem to pick up on any of it.

Sam shrugged, “Well, he didn’t call me back from the other day. I left him a message and everything saying you were almost dying, and he didn’t even call.” He paused, probably waiting for Dean to say something, but when he didn’t, he continued, “You think something happened?”

Dean grunted at that, a snarky reply jumping to the tip of his tongue, because yeah, something happened alright. But it was something Dean would sure as hell never talk to his little brother about. Ever. Nope. Not happening. “He’s probably just busy with angel business, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t look convinced, much to Dean’s annoyance. “Still, that doesn’t seem like him.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean grunted again, and he probably sounded a little too annoyed to pass as normal, but he couldn’t help it, “He’ll come around if he needs us.” Dean didn’t look back as he left the room after that.

It all just got worse after that. Sam would for some reason always find a reason to bring up Cas, and that would every single time put Dean in a sour mood. He often snapped at Sam because of it, which might not be too smart if he wanted to keep what had happened a secret. It was also a little uncalled for, he knew that, because Sam didn’t know just how delicate the subject was. But couldn’t Sam just take a fucking hint and drop it already?

The silence was the worst of all, however. The air in the Bunker was heavy with tension, practically charged with it. Dean was doing everything he could to avoid Sam, and he knew his brother noticed it, but fortunately, he didn’t try and change that. Sam actually respected the bed rest without complaint now, most of the time not even staying in the library and taking some books into his room to bury himself in what Dean assumed to be research about the Mark, even though Dean was sure he had already gone through some of the book he saw Sam carrying around. He wasn’t going to comment on that, though, not if Sam was busy enough with his books not to bring any unwanted subjects into conversation again.

The only words they exchanged were when Dean brought Sam food and his brother questioned him about his own meals, because apparently Sam felt the need to make sure Dean was eating properly as well, as if _that_ would make a difference in the Mark situation. Dean didn’t want to have any sort of argument with his brother over it, though, so he always answered that yes, he had already eaten and was fine, even if it might not be true some days. Dean _was_ making an effort to eat a little more healthily, but sometimes he just felt like he would die if he tried to swallow another fucking leaf.

That went on for about a week, and it seemed be getting worse every day. It became so much so fast that soon came the moment when Dean couldn’t handle it anymore, so one day he made an effort, woke up at the butt-crack of dawn and gathered his things as quietly as he could. He needed to do something. He needed to hunt something, because that seemed to be the only thing he still could do these days. He had to shut the Mark up and he needed to kill something, and the only thing he would allow himself to kill was monsters. He could feel his control slipping through his fingers and he had to do something to calm the Mark down, before what had happened to Randy and all those other dudes when they rescued Claire Novak could happen again. He wouldn’t allow himself to lose control like that again.

He had dug up a pretty simple case that looked like a vampire nest the day before online, and he had been convinced not a minute later. Cutting off a few heads might satiate the Mark a little; maybe it would even make it grow quiet for a few days. It was unlikely, but it was definitely worth a shot.

And after writing down a quick note for Sam, he took off.

As Dean had expected, driving his Baby calmed him. The low rumble of the Impala’s engine as she flew over the highway always had that effect on him. The sound was peaceful, and it sent his mind to an almost numbed state. It sent him back all those years when he was just a kid, sitting in the backseat with little Sammy snoozing by his side and John behind the wheel, with the green scenery flying past the windows as the starred sky shone down at them. It set his mind at ease for a while, clearing his thoughts just barely and forming a small smile on his lips at the memory of much simpler times. It was good.

His phone rang not five hours into the drive, a little later than Dean had expected it to, but it was understandable. Sam had stayed up late last night doing research; he had seen the light under his brother’s bedroom door after three in the morning when he’d gone to bed himself. Fortunately, that meant he was just far enough from Lebanon that Sam wouldn’t join him. At least he hoped so, anyway. He needed some time alone. And anyway, Sam was still on bed rest and should not be hunting at all, or leaving the Bunker, for that matter.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean greeted him cheerfully, like nothing was wrong.

 _“Dean, are you out of your mind?”_ And of course Sammy wouldn’t let this one go. _Of course._ _“You can’t be serious about going on a hunt by yourself!”_

“Of course I’m serious, Sammy,” Dean let out an annoyed sigh, “What’s wrong with that?”

_“Dean, you’re in no condition to be doing this, especially not alone!”_

“Sam, I’m okay. Really, I can do this, trust me.” It wasn’t like he was invalid or something. “I just really need a hunt, that’s all, and you’re still on bed rest.”

Sam let out a heavy breath, blowing it over the speaker and making Dean pull the phone away from his ear for a moment. Dean could almost hear the wheels turning inside his head as he considered this; he probably had a bitchface on too. Dean could almost see it.

  _“Fine,”_ he finally gave in, his voice still tight and almost worn out, like he was tired of arguing. Dean was, too, and he was glad that Sam actually agreed to this so easily. He had been expecting a little more fighting than that, but he wasn’t going to look at a gift horse at the mouth here. _“But, please, Dean, be careful. And if anything happens, anything at all, you call me, alright?”_

“You got it.”

***~*~*~*~***

The silence in the Bunker had once been calming, but this time, it was nothing but the opposite of it. It meant that Sam was alone in there, because Dean was out in a hunt and had yet to come back. The only thing keeping Sam somewhat sane was research. Well, that and the fact that Dean would send him a text every few hours to update him on the case and tell him that he was fine.

Sam couldn’t know how much credit he could give Dean’s definition of being fine, but at least his brother was alive and able to press a few buttons on his phone, so Sam would have to be okay with just knowing at that for now. The time between texts had Sam chewing on his nails with nerves, though, because he knew Dean could have another episode like the one he had had in the kitchen at any second and Sam was nowhere near him to help him this time.

He spent pretty much all of his time looking for something, _anything_ , really, that the Men of Letters might have on the Mark of Cain, but he grew more frustrated with each book he closed. He couldn’t find a single paragraph on it, not a single word on the subject, even in the rarest, oldest books he could find in the library. He had actually double checked a few texts, mainly the ones not written in English, hoping he might have missed something when he’d attempted to translate them before, but he found absolutely nothing.

But still, he wouldn’t give up. He _couldn’t_ give up. His brother’s life was at stake here, and he couldn’t stop now. If he did stop…

Sam shuddered, pushing that thought away as soon as it crossed his mind. He wouldn’t let his brother become that thing again. He wouldn’t, or he would die trying.

Dean had been away from five days already when Sam’s peace was broken by a loud bang coming from the entrance hall of the Bunker. He had been sleeping, but was jolted awake because of the sound and was quick to grab the first weapon he could find—a pistol he left under his pillow every night, which was ready to fire at any second, out of convenience.

Years of hunting monsters kicked in and he was already walking out of the room, turning on the lights as he walked because he sure as hell wouldn’t give anything the advantage of the dark. He couldn’t see well in the dark, but he knew most of the things he hunted could, and that would only give many of them the upper hand here, which could easily cost the hunter his life.

He saw nothing once he reached the library, the loaded gun moving with his gaze as he looked for anything that might have made such a loud sound, but he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He was pretty sure he would have been able to hear a pin dropping in the dead silence of the place, but that definitely wasn’t good. He knew from experience that if it was keeping quiet, it didn’t want to be found.

He couldn’t even imagine what could have broken into this place, honestly, so he had no idea what he could be dealing with. He had once believed nothing _could_ break into this place, but apparently, he had been wrong.

And that was when he heard the flushing from the toilet.

Sam frowned, confused, because who the hell was using their bathroom? Why the hell would a monster flush a toilet, anyway? Maybe to distract him, pulling his attention to something other than itself, he assumed. Still holding the gun, he walked over to the door on the side of the room, eyes focused on the space he could see from outside, trying to make out any movement.

And that was when Charlie walked out of the bathroom.

The girl yelped at the sight of the gun, her arms rising in the air in surprise as her eyes widened.

Sam let out a heavy breath of relief, his shoulder sagging. “Charlie,” he breathed out, lowering his gun, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, traveling through dimensions makes me nauseous,” Charlie shrugged sheepishly, “Sorry for barging in like that, but the portal from Oz opened in here, so…”

Sam felt the tension bleed from his muscles as he eyed the familiar redhead in front of him. She looked different from when she’d left to Oz over a year ago. Her hair was shorter now; the long scarlet waves that had once reached her shoulders had been replaced by shorter, curlier locks that barely reached her chin. It looked nice on her.

Sam shook his head lightly, turning the safety of the gun on and tucking it in the waistband of his pants to not make the girl nervous. “No, no, that’s fine. Hunter mode just… kicked in, I guess.”

“Well,” Charlie smiled brightly now that the initial shock of being greeted with a gun to the face seemed to have worn off, rising her arms in invitation, “Where’s my welcome back hug?”

Sam chuckled, but hurried to lean in and wrap his arms around the slim from of the girl, smiling in a way he hadn’t in weeks as she happily leaped into his embrace.

And so they spent the next hour talking. Charlie’s entire face lit up as she told him about the wonders of Oz, but the expression faded as she explained how things got tiring after some time. She didn’t exactly go into detail about Dorothy, either, but Sam just knew something had happened there that the girl didn’t want to tell him, and he was fine with that, really. He was curious, sure, but was polite enough not to ask. He was just glad to have something else to focus his mind on other than the Mark of Cain. He really did need a break, he just now realized that.

“So, is Dean sleeping?”

“He’s not here, actually,” Sam handed her a mug filled with tea, which he had just made, and sat down with his own beverage across from her at the kitchen table.

Charlie frowned at that, and Sam knew it was only fair. It wasn’t normal for Dean not to be in the same place as him, except from when they were at odds with each other, so that might mean there was something wrong. She wouldn’t be entirely wrong to assume that, really.

“Where is he?” she asked, taking a small sip from her cup and making a face, “Ouch, that’s hot.”

Sam chuckled as she started to blow at the mug, trying to cool the tea enough to be able to drink it, but the sound died a moment later as his thoughts turned back to the subject of his brother. “On a hunt,” Sam replied with a shrug, but knew he wouldn’t be able to just brush the subject off when he noticed Charlie’s raised eyebrows, which so clearly told him she knew something was up and wasn’t going to buy any excuse he gave her that she might as well have said it out loud, “We, uh… We had a disagreement, I guess.”

“Well, I assumed that much,” Yep, Charlie knew them pretty well, “What about this time? You didn’t start another apocalypse, did you?” She might have meant it as a joke, but there was a hint of actual doubt in her words that had Sam flinching a little, like that was an actual concern in her mind. Again, she wasn’t entirely wrong to think that.

“No, it’s…” Sam took a long sip of his drink, struggling to put his thoughts into words. He did a quick math and remembered that Charlie had left to Oz before Dean even took on the Mark of Cain, right after the Angel Fall, when Abaddon was still running free and trying to take over Hell, Crowley was still in their dungeon and Cas was still human. So that meant that he would have to start from the beginning.

So he did. He told her everything. From Abaddon to the First Blade to the Mark of Cain right up to Dean getting killed by Metatron and becoming a Knight of Hell for a few months, until Sam and Cas managed to cure him from being a demon, but that the Mark remained on his arm and was currently trying to take over again. He spoke for over an hour, but Charlie did not speak once. She watched him with careful eyes, hanging on to his every word. Sometimes she looked like she might say something, but he was glad she didn’t—it made it easier for Sam to just pour it all out like that.

When he was done, their tea was cold and he was a little out of breath, but surprisingly, he felt a lot better than he had before. It had been the first time since it all happened that he had been able to just _let it all out_ like that. He couldn’t talk to Dean about this, mainly because his brother would take his worry as a reason to just shut him out even more. Dean just tended to do that; when he realized Sam was worried, he decided he shouldn’t _give_ Sam a reason to worry and would just not tell him anything anymore. So talking to Dean was out of the question. And now with Cas being MIA all of a sudden and no one else to talk to, Sam had kept everything bottled up deep inside.

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to finally say all of it out loud; all the things that had been slowly eating at his sanity during the past whole year, but especially during the past few weeks. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to talk about it.

Charlie was also quiet for a moment, processing everything she had heard, most likely, which was definitely not something easy to do. So Sam just waited as she clearly struggled to find something to say in response, as well as organize all the thoughts that were most likely running through her head in that moment. Sam couldn’t even imagine what it must feel like to have that whole load suddenly thrown at someone, and she _had_ just gotten back to her own world. That actually made Sam feel a little bit bad for her, but it was already done and it wasn’t like he could take any of the words he’d said back now.

“So… Dean was actually a demon?”

Sam nodded, not surprised to find out which part she had been having trouble with processing the most, “Yeah, for a few months. He’s human now, but… the Mark is still a problem, and it’s getting worse.”

“And there isn’t a cure for, you know… that?”

Sam shook his head, looking down at the table. “Not as far as we can tell,” because they just couldn’t find a way to destroy it, and passing it along wouldn’t get rid of it. As far as they knew, Cain still had the Mark as well, and he had passed it to Dean. It just spread around without going away, like a plague, which in Sam’s mind was a very accurate analogy.

“But, no one knows anything? Not even Castiel? I mean, I don’t know him, but…” She shrugged, “He just seems to know about everything. From the books, I mean.”

“He knew about it when Dean first got the Mark,” Sam recalled how Cas had instantly sense the Mark on Dean’s arm the first day they’d met after Dean and Crowley went to visit Cain, like he had just _felt_ its presence, “But he doesn’t know how to get rid of it.”

“But… he’s an angel, right? He can’t just… heal it with his angel mojo or something?”

Right, Charlie didn’t know about Cas’s current situation. They had sort of explained the Angel Fall to her the last time she had been here, but they hadn’t told her the entire thing. Most importantly, they hadn’t explained what had happened to Cas. Well, better late than never, he supposed. “I don’t think even angels can heal something like that. And anyway, Cas is not exactly… up for it at the moment.”

Charlie frowned again, “Why not?”

Sam swallowed, because sometimes he just forgot about this stuff, with everything that was going on with Dean, but he was once again reminded that Cas’ life was on the line too, “Because Cas is dying.”

Charlie’s eyes widened at that, something close to shock taking over her features, but there was something else there—panic, maybe. Sam couldn’t exactly tell. “What? But he can’t die!”

“I really wish it worked that way, Charlie, but…” It was painful, but it was the truth.

“How?” the word came out weak and low, like Charlie was afraid of the answer. Her eyes were pleading, and Sam wondered how she could look so desperate for the well-being of someone she had never met. But then again, he knew she had read those books, and maybe reading it knowing that the angel was real must have made her actually care about him to some degree. At least that’s what he assumed.

So Sam started talking again, this time about how Cas had trusted the wrong angel a year and a half ago and that had caused all angels to fall from Heaven. She already knew about the Angel Fall, so that part wasn’t that hard to go through. Sam then explained to her how Metatron had used Cas to cast out the angels, tricking him into performing the two first steps of a spell, and that how in order to complete it, Metatron had stolen Cas’ Grace.

“So Cas is human? Like Anna was?”

It was still surreal how Charlie knew everything about their lives from the books, but he just shrugged that weird feeling off, like he had learned to do by now. Sort of. “He was human like her, yes, but just for a while. He ended up stealing another angel’s Grace at some point.”

“Wait, you can do that? How can that even work?”

“It actually doesn’t,” Charlie only looked even more confused, “The stolen Grace works a little, but not entirely. It’s like… Cas’ body rejects it or something, because as he uses it, it doesn’t recharge like his actual Grace would. It just… burns out.”

“What happens then? You said that he’s dying, then…” She seemed to get it then, “He dies, doesn’t it? When it burns out completely?”

Sam nodded grimly. “Yeah, he does.” He swallowed drily, shaking his head lightly, “I mean, he can recharge, he did it once, but that means stealing more Grace and killing another angel. And he doesn’t want to do that, so…”

“He’d rather just die,” Charlie let out a sad sigh. Her eyes were distant, sad even, and once again Sam felt bad for the terrible welcome back he was giving her. But that was his life; that was what meant being a Winchester—crappy things happening all the time, no matter the occasion. “What about his Grace? His _actual_ Grace, the one he had before. Is it just… gone?”

Well, that was one of the questions that had been lingering in their heads for a while now. They actually didn’t know what happened to it, nor if there was enough of it left to save Cas. And if there was some of it out there, they had no idea how to find it. “We don’t know if it’s still out there or not,” Sam shrugged, “Or how much is left if it is.”

“Well,” Charlie stood up from the chair, her face suddenly filled with pure determination, “There’s our start right there.”

“Wait, Charlie,” Sam hurried to catch up with the girl, who was already halfway over to the kitchen door when he got to his feet, “What are you doing?”

“You said that you can’t find anything on the Mark of Cain and that both Dean and Cas are dying,” Charlie stated simply, “We have to do something about it, and that means research. Let’s see what I can dig up on the Mark and on anything weird that might give us pointers of where Cas’ Grace is. That’s how you guys found Anna’s Grace, right? A comet or something, and then the big tree.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Sam loved it that Charlie was so on board with helping, he really did, but he was a little scared of what she might have in mind.

Charlie gave him a little grin, spinning around and leaving the kitchen without another word, leaving a confused Sam behind.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the will to move.

He had finished the case two days ago and was actually a few towns over from where he’d ended a small nest of vamps. There had been only five of them, and the Mark actually helped, so it had been a pretty easy job. He had left the warehouse where they’d been hiding only a few minutes after sneaking in, just a few scratches covering his body and machete covered in vampire blood tightly gripped in his right hand.

He had decided to stop in this small town for a few days, not exactly feeling like going back to the Bunker just yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to go back to the situation with his brother already.

He was actually considering taking on another case, maybe something a little more complicated than a nest of vampires. He had read something that sounded like werewolf activity a few hours away from where he was. It was a long drive, but maybe it was worth checking out.

But that could wait a little bit, because for some reason, he felt like he had just been run over by a train and thrown off a cliff right after. His entire body hurt, even though he hadn’t even been thrown around that much in the hunt. And it had started without a warning, like weird phantom pains that spread all over his body and really made him feel like he was dying, so he had decided to lie down a little and wait until it went away. That usually worked.

Something told him that the pain didn’t have something to do with the hunt, though, which worried him a little. What exactly was the Mark doing here? Shouldn’t it be quiet and happy that he had chopped off five heads? Couldn’t it just shut up for a few days? It had never done something like this before, either, and Dean couldn’t understand what exactly it meant.

Just as he began thinking about it, the Mark flared up in his forearm, demanding for him attention, angry that he wasn’t doing what it wanted him to. He told it to shut up, but that only made it madder. It burned and ached and sent chills down his spine, making his head spin and his heart race. He was shaking and sweating in no time, gasping for air as he struggled to breathe, but his lungs didn’t seem like they could handle the job. He could taste his own blood in his mouth, but all he could do was turn his head to the side so he wouldn’t drown in it.

He saw it again, the road he had seen before in his head, but the image had more focus this time. Now he could actually make out the shape of a building that looked like a motel, or maybe a small bed and breakfast, with a big sign that said ‘Zoe’s Haven’ by the front. He had never even heard of it.

The image shifted without warning, and he suddenly saw forest, too, and a small dirt road. There was a small river nearby, he could tell that much, just as he knew he was way up in the mountains somehow. There was that small cottage again, hidden away beneath the leaves and branches of the trees that surrounded it. It seemed peaceful, calm and cut off from the world.

Just the place someone might choose to die in.

At some point, Dean ended up on the floor. He was coughing up the blood that tried to flow into his lungs and clog up his airways, but he couldn’t breathe still. His vision faded, losing focus of the room around him and showing him images of places he had never seen before in his life, like visions that did not exactly belong to him, but that he somehow knew about; that he recognized vaguely. They didn’t seem foreign to his mind, like he might have visited them at some point, but couldn’t remember having done it.

And then he would be back to the motel room, lying on the carpet, supporting his weight on his hands and knees as he did everything he could not to die because of his own blood filling his mouth and throat. His ribcage ached with the effort of breathing and his heart hammering against it, pounding as it struggled to pump his blood through his system with great effort. His head was getting heavier with each second, his eyes dropping as oxygen escaped him.

And that was when he knew he would die.

The first thing he thought about after that realization was that he would die without saying goodbye to Sam. But his brother would understand. He would be mad that Dean had left without actually being fine, and he would probably blame himself for a while, but Dean hoped he would let him go this time. Because honestly, Dean was beyond saving, he knew that. He just hoped Sam would be able to make peace with that fact, and that he wouldn’t try to save him again.

Even if he knew he shouldn’t, Dean also thought of Cas. Even if the angel had hurt him; even if he had torn up his heart and stomped it down by leaving him like that, he still longed to see him again. It might be pathetic or girly or a bunch of things he didn’t want to think about, but it was the truth. He loved Cas, he really did, and he just wished he could have talked to him one last time before this. He wished he could have told Cas he loved him, but now he never would.

He could feel it; his body was almost shutting down, and it hurt like hell. It burned, every single muscle feeling like it wanted to just be torn apart over and over again, his bones feeling like they were breaking and being smashed by a force he couldn’t understand. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find his voice to do it. It wasn’t like any sound could get out of his mouth, though, with the amount of blood that was in there.

And it was like that, lying on the floor of a motel room, that Dean felt himself fading into the darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm, Dean is quite the pessimist, isn't he? I wonder why Cas left... And what is happening to Dean? So many mysteries... ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all so much for the amazing feedback and kind comments! :D
> 
> So, somehow "Metatron" got changed to "Metratron" a few times in the last chapter O.o Sorry about that, I have no idea how that happened or how I didn't see it before, I actually cringed a little bit when I saw it XD It's fixed now, though :)

It was around eight in the morning the day after Charlie got to the Bunker that Sam’s phone rang.

He shot up awake, sitting up straight and looking around, startled by the sound of the obnoxiously loud ringtone as it attacked his ears. Looking down, he realized that he must have fallen asleep doing research, his face lying on the book he had been reading, the page slightly folded in the center, where his cheek must have been. A quick scanning of the room told him that Charlie wasn’t present, so he assumed that she had probably gone to bed at some point, but had chosen not to wake him up.

Rubbing his hand over his face to try and chase the sleepiness away, Sam stared down at his phone, finding an unknown number blinking at him from the screen below. He frowned in confusion, but still answered.

“Hello?” he spoke into the phone, covering his mouth with his hand a moment later as he tried to hold back a yawn. He needed coffee, he decided then.

_“Sam Winchester?”_ an unfamiliar female voice asked from the other end of the line.

Sam paused, because it wasn’t a voice he recognized. Maybe it was a hunter calling for advice. That happened quite often, because apparently he and his brother had made quite a name for themselves amongst the hunting community over the years, and not just because of their father. Of course, most hunters weren’t exactly fond of the Winchesters for several reasons, with all the rumors and stories (some false, other true) that were told about them between other hunters, but sometimes one or other still called. It was quite rare, but it happened.

“Who is this?” he asked, frowning as he got to his feet, intending to go over to the kitchen to make himself some coffee so he could wake up enough to go back to reading.

_“It’s Hannah. I am… using a different vessel than the last time we met.”_

“Oh, hi, Hannah,” Sam actually paused at that, surprised. He hadn’t heard from Hannah in a while. Cas had told him and Dean that Hannah had returned to Heaven over a month ago, but he had not given them much detail at that time. In fact, Cas had simply said that Hannah believed her work on Earth to be done and had decided it was time for her to continue her work in Heaven. Why was she back, then? And why did Hannah take on another vessel? And what did she want with him? Was this about Cas? Was he…

Sam pushed the thought away before it could even fully register in his mind. No, he wasn’t thinking about that.

_“I need to speak with you, Samuel,”_  Hannah replied calmly, not in that robot-like tone angels seemed to master so well, but with an actual hint of urgency to her voice that had countless alarms instantly going off inside Sam’s head, because that just couldn’t mean anything good.

Sam frowned as he resumed walking to the kitchen. Something told him he would really need some coffee to handle whatever the angel wanted to tell him, and by the tone of her voice, he wouldn’t like what he would hear.

“What about?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

_“It’s about Dean, Sam.”_

Sam froze at the sound of his brother’s name. “What about him?”

_“He is here with me, Sam. Well, not entirely, he is unconscious…”_

“What?” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling his heart speeding up inside his chest. He knew Dean shouldn’t have left on his own like that. “What happened to him?”

_“I found him in a motel room in Colorado. He was unconscious, and barely alive. I tried healing him, but I could not do much, not with the Mark of Cain fighting me. Even now, he is hanging by a thread. I am driving his car to your location now. Castiel mentioned you and your brother reside in Lebanon, Kansas, is that correct?”_

Sam closed his eyes, counting his breaths and focusing on the frantic beating of his heart. Why the hell did he even think Dean could be out on his own? He should have gone after his brother, dragged him back to the Bunker and tied him down to his bed behind a locked (and barricaded) door if he needed to. Dean was stubborn as a mule—probably even more—and wouldn’t admit to needing help; Sam had to be the one to put limits on him this time.

Sam did his best not to think of Hannah, who had most likely only a few weeks of driving experience, behind the wheel of the Impala. He shuddered at the simgle thought of it, though he could only hope she would make it to the Bunker without any accidents.

“Yeah, that’s right. How far are you?”

_“About five hours, according to the voice in the mobile device I have with me.”_

Right, an angel using a GPS. Because that would work so well…

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you, then.” Sam was about to end the conversation right there, but a thought suddenly struck him. He paused yet again, frowning as he asked, “Hey, how did you even find Dean, anyway?” It wasn’t like Hannah could have been just passing through the exact same town in Colorado where Dean had been, as well as through the same motel Dean had been staying at, and had just happened to stumble into his room to find him there.

_“Castiel sent me to find him,”_ Hannah replied calmly, _“I was not sure why he did it at the time, but now it makes sense.”_

“Cas sent you? Why?” How could Cas know Dean was having another attack? And how did Cas even know where Dean was in the first place? Last time Sam had checked, Dean and Cas hadn’t really been talking to each other. Or at least Cas hadn’t been answering his phone. Sam still didn’t know what was up with that, all he knew was that there was something wrong there. He just had no clue what that could be. At least now he knew that Cas was alive, so that was something.

_“He did not explain. All he asked of me was to make sure Dean Winchester was okay. He told me the place where I would find him, even.”_

“He what?” How could Cas have known where Dean was? Had they been talking? Sam had a feeling there was something off about this story, because things weren’t quite adding up, but he doubted Hannah knew anything. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, though. “So Cas talked to Dean?”

_“I do not know. He did not say.”_

Of course he didn’t…

“Alright, Hannah, hit me up when you get here, alright? So I can let you in.”

_“Why would I want to hit you?”_

 “I mean call me, Hannah,” he cleared up, not able to fight the chuckle that escaped his lips. Sometimes Sam just forgot he was talking to an angel…

_“Oh,”_ was her response, _“I can do that.”_

***~*~*~*~***

It wasn’t even ten minutes after his phone call with Hannah when Sam was back to researching, feeling like a nervous wreck and holding back the urge to just pace around the room. He had to do something productive, or else he would go mad, but the fact that he couldn’t find even a single relevant mention of the Mark of Cain in any book he got his hands on just made him even more frustrated.

“Well, you got to business early today.”

Sam glanced up briefly, just long enough to find Charlie watching him from the entrance of the library, before focusing his eyes back down onto the page of the book he was currently going through. “I kinda had to,” he replied, “Something happened.”

“What?” The hint of worry was clear in the girl’s voice.

“Hannah, another angel and a friend of Cas’, called earlier,” Charlie’s eyebrows went up at that, but she didn’t comment, giving the Winchester a look that clearly asked him to continue. “She told me she found Dean unconscious in his motel room somewhere in Colorado. She’s bringing him here now.”

Charlie sat down slowly, a distant look on her face, as if going through the words in her head. “He’s getting worse, isn’t he?” she asked in a small, weak voice, sounding like she was afraid of the answer to her question. Honestly, Sam was too.

Sam nodded tightly, choosing to remain silent as he was not sure if he could manage to say the words out loud. If he didn’t voice them, they didn’t seem so real; so painful.

Charlie darted from the room a moment later, quickly returning to the library with her laptop under her arm, probably to continue the research she had been doing the night before. Her fingers danced over the keyboard like rapid fire, pressing the keys like her life depended on it. And for hours, that was the only sound there was in the room, plus the eventual turning of a page from Sam.

It was only hours later when Sam’s phone rang again, and he practically jumped from his chair to answer it.

Hannah was outside. She had driven the Impala here, just as she had said she was going to, and Sam was relieved to find the car in perfect condition. Dean would kill her if something happened to his Baby, no matter his condition.

Hannah’s new vessel was a petit blonde, clearly a very young woman, whom Hannah explained had suffered a car accident and had been in a coma for three years, but that would be delivered back to her family once the angel returned to Heaven, the girl's body completely healed. Apparently, Hannah's previous human vessel—Caroline—was married with a husband and she couldn’t keep them apart anymore. She explained she would only take vessels when she did not have another choice, and when she did, she would find a way to help those she possessed. Hannah was apparently one of those angels who, just like Cas, actually gave Sam hope that the entire species was not compromised, like he used to think they were a few years ago. There were some pretty good angels out there still; they just had been unlucky to mostly run into the not-so-good ones so far.

After a brief introduction between Charlie and Hannah, the angel and hunter carried an unconscious Dean inside, with Charlie following and watching everything them with curious, attentive eyes. She eyed Hannah almost wearily, though the look in her eyes was hard to read. Sam suddenly realized this was the first time Charlie was seeing an angel, so it made sense for her to look a little out of place. He, too, had been lost when he’d first met Cas and Uriel all those years ago in that motel room.

“I did what I could to heal him, but I could not do much,” Hannah explained once they had laid Dean down on his bed. He was barely breathing, his heartbeat weak, just barely there at all. If Hannah had done something to make his brother better, Sam didn’t even want to imagine what Dean had looked like when she’d found him. Right now, his brother looked to be on the verge of death. “I cannot heal the effects of the Mark of Cain.”

It wasn’t like Sam didn’t know that already, but it still made him want to punch something. He just hated how helpless they all were in this situation, especially him, because Dean was dying right in front of his eyes and he couldn’t stop it.

“Still… Thank you, Hannah.” Because she still deserved it. She had tried to heal his brother and had brought him home, and that meant a lot to Sam.

Hannah nodded in response. “Castiel is my friend, and he asked me to make sure Dean was fine. I could not possibly deny him this, not in his current state.”

“His current state?” That sounded bad. He hadn’t heard from Cas for a while, so he didn’t exactly know anything about the angel’s current state, but judging by the sound of it, Cas' situation wasn’t good at all.

Hannah’s expression darkened, which was an odd sight to see. It was subtle, but the change was still there, and it made Sam realize that maybe Hannah wasn’t as unaffected by her time here on Earth as he had believed her to be. Of course, she wasn’t even as close to developing some sort of sense of humanity as Cas was, but this was already start. Cas had been here a lot longer, anyway. “He is fading quickly, even faster than before. I am not sure how long he has left, but my guess is not much.”

Sam looked down at that, running his fingers through his hair as he instantly realized this was his fault. Cas had healed him, even if he knew it would only kill him faster. Dean had told him that Cas had needed a few days to recover from healing just a few wounds, which was far from normal. That realization made a weight settle in Sam’s stomach, guilt seeping through his bones. “Where is he now?”

Hannah’s eyes did not leave Dean's unmoving form as she responded, “Castiel did not share his location with me. I do not understand why, however. He used a spell to reach me in Heaven, and once I was on Earth, he would only use a phone to communicate with me. He refused to meet, under any circumstances.”

Well, that couldn’t mean anything good. It made Sam think of a dying animal that would get away from the others to fade away on its own. Why the hell hadn’t Cas called them, though? They could help, even if they had to kill another angel for their Grace to buy him some more time. “Can’t you locate him? We could get him some other angel’s Grace or something. That will give him more time.”

“I have tried, Samuel,” The angel finally turned to the side, allowing her dark brown eyes to meet the human’s gaze, “Castiel does not wish to be found. He has made that clear by the amounts of wards he has built around himself. It would take months to locate him, and I’m afraid he will not last that long.” She averted her eyes once more, her gaze growing distant as she stared at the wall, though somehow Sam knew she wasn’t quite looking at it. “None of this matters, either way. Castiel will not allow another angel to die in his place. He has made that quite clear to me before.”

“But we can’t just let him die!” Charlie spoke for the first time, the sound of her voice abruptly coming from behind them and reminding Sam that the girl was still there with them in the room.

Hannah did not seem at all startled by the loud sound of the redhead's words, her voice oddly calm as she responded to the human's sudden outburst, like only an angel could manage in a situation like this one. “I wish I could say differently, but I cannot think of another option. Castiel has made his choice.” Her words might be cold, but there was something in her voice that betrayed the distance she was trying to pull off here. Something in her tone just told Sam she wasn’t being truthful to them, and that had him confused.

There was something Hannah wasn’t saying here. If Sam didn’t know better, he would say the angel was sad, and even disappointed, but he might be reading too much into things. Hannah hadn’t been on Earth _that_ long, anyway.

“Castiel does not wish to be helped, but he did ask for a favor, so I will follow through with his wish.” Her eyes landed on Dean once more, “It is the least I can do for a dying friend.”

Sam hated it, but he knew Hannah was right. If Cas didn’t want to be saved, there really was nothing they could do, no matter how much he wanted things to be different.

***~*~*~*~***

The first thing Dean became aware of when he came to was the nausea. It came on like a wave, and before he knew it, he was shooting up on the bed, getting to his feet in a rush and pretty much running to the bathroom across the hallway from his bedroom. He spilled his guts just a moment later, draped over the toilet as he emptied his stomach. His head was throbbing from having it lowered like that so suddenly, but there wasn’t much he could do but wait until it was over.

When he was done throwing up, he just braced himself on the porcelain toilet in front of him, heaving and waiting for the room to stop spinning. If it kept doing that, he was going to puke again, that much he was sure about.

“Dean.”

Dean winced at the pain that shot through his skull when he looked up, but he still managed to spot his brother standing by the bathroom door. He had about a second to realize what that meant, because it just then dawned on him he hadn’t been in the Bunker the last time he had been conscious, before another wave of nausea hit him and he was spilling the contents of his stomach into the toilet once more.

Faintly, Dean noticed Sam kneeling down right beside him and patting his back in what he assumed to be a gesture of comfort. Some time ago he might have tried to brush Sammy off saying that he wasn’t a freaking girl and that he could handle this on his own, but he couldn’t find it in him to push Sam away in that moment, not when he actually felt like he was dying.

When it was finally over, Dean flushed the toilet, before leaning back and sitting down onto the cold tiled floor, panting. He winced at the acrid taste in his mouth, swallowing a few times to try and get rid of it, to no use.

“Go on,” His voice was scratchy, his throat burning at the mere attempt of speaking, “Give me the ‘I told you so’.” Dean knew Sam was just dying to say it, so he might as well let his brother get on with it.

He didn’t need to look to the side to see Sam shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have left.”

Dean grunted at that, not finding it in himself to start an argument right now. He didn’t regret leaving, to be honest. He had needed the time alone, and the hunt had in fact helped a little, taking the edge off from the whole Mark situation, if only just barely. “How did I get here?”

“Hannah brought you.”

Dean frowned at the name. How the hell did Hannah even find him? And hadn't Hannah left for Heaven, anyway? He was about to ask just that when Sam spoke again, leaning forward and towards Dean.

“Come on,” he wrapped an arm around Dean’s middle, urging him to stand up, “Let’s talk in the library. Hannah and Charlie are there.”

“Wait, Charlie is here?”

“Yeah, she got here yesterday. And Hannah has a new vessel now. She had to swap bodies. The other one had a husband.”

Dean grunted at that, but didn’t answer.

Sam hurried to support Dean’s weight as they walked out of the bathroom. For some reason, Dean didn’t fight him about that. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, not when all he felt like doing was curling up to a ball in a corner and dying. Every single muscle in his body ached, like he had been run over by a train or something, but he forced his limbs to move and managed to walk the distance from the bathroom by his room to the library.

True to Sam’s words, Charlie and Hannah were indeed waiting for them when they reached the library, though while the redhead was sitting at the big table in the center of the room with a laptop resting before her, a blonde whom Dean assumed to be Hannah was lingering in the back, her eyes scanning the various titles of the books that occupied the shelves around them.

“Dean!” Charlie stood up the moment she saw Dean, her eyes lighting up as the girl hurried to her feet and strode across the room, pulling the hunter into a tight hug, “You scared us so much! We thought you were going to die!”

Dean could only hug her back, wrapping his own arms around the petit body before him. “Sorry,” he muttered. He felt a pang of guilt as he realized what Sam and Charlie must have thought when they realized he had had another attack.

“What happened?” Sam’s voice came from behind him as Charlie pulled away to punch Dean in the shoulder.

Dean glared at her halfheartedly for the blow (it kind of hurt, if he was being honest. Who knew Charlie could punch like that. Maybe she learned it in Oz?), before turning to Sam, shaking his head. He knew he was in for a screaming match if he wasn’t careful with this one. He knew his brother well enough to know that. “I don’t know. I started coughing out of nowhere. The Mark started to burn. Next thing I know I’m on the floor trying to breathe, and that’s about it.”

Shaking his head, Sam ran his hand through his hair, having the exact same reaction Dean had expected him to. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“Sammy, don’t,” Dean really didn’t want to hear it; any of it. He was tired of this whole thing already, and he just wished people would stop treating him like a fucking child. And sure, maybe he shouldn’t have left, but it had been his decision, and he would have had to deal with it. He had left to go on that hunt because he had wanted to, and that was it. “I went out because I wanted to.”

“Yeah, and that turned out so well.” Sam let out an exasperated sigh. “You could have died on your own, Dean!”

“But I didn’t! I woke up, didn’t I?” Because if he was still here, then he would have come to at some point in that motel room, even if Hannah hadn’t brought him here.

“You’re here because Hannah healed you, Dean! You would have died there if the hadn’t found you!”

_Oh._ Dean swallowed drily at that. He hadn’t known that. But then again, hadn’t he made peace with the fact that he was dying? Still, Hannah had somehow found him and brought him here. Speaking of which…

“How did you find me, anyway?” He directed his question at the angel, who was watching the exchange with almost curious eyes.

Hannah opened her mouth to respond, but Sam beat her to speaking.

“Cas sent her, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes widened, because no, that couldn’t be right. He gave Sam an incredulous look, but when he realized that his brother was not about to tell him that it was a joke, he turned back to the angel instead. Hannah wouldn’t joke about this; she probably didn’t even know how to, anyway. “He’s joking, right?”

Hannah frowned, tilting her head to the side in that way Dean still connected to Cas, but that seemed to just be yet another angel trait. “Why would he be joking?”

Well, that was a question Dean definitely _didn’t_ want to answer, thank you very much. “What exactly did Cas say?”

“He asked me to make sure you were fine and shared your location with me.”

And that had Dean’s eyebrows flying up sky high, because how the hell did Cas even know where he was? The last time they had talked, well, Cas for sure knew where Dean was, but after that, they hadn’t exchanged a single word, not even through text. Cas had cut Dean off completely. “How did he know where I was?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Sam asked, his tone suddenly weary.

“I haven’t talked to him in over three weeks, dude. No, I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Well, in any case, he certainly knew where you were, since I found you exactly where he told me you would be, right down to the number of the motel room.”

Well, that just didn’t make sense at all. It actually startled Dean, in fact, because how could Cas know that? He honestly couldn’t think of a way, not when Cas was running on borrowed Grace like he was right now. And if he did have the mojo to track down Dean, then why hadn't he come help Dean himself? Why had he sent Hannah? Anger seeped into Dean's thoughts as he realized why exactly Cas had sent Hannah—so he wouldn’t have to face Dean. The word _coward_ echoed in Dean’s head a few times before he was finally able to speak again.

“And did he happen to explain to you why he didn’t go himself? Why did he send you?” Maybe he should have made an effort to sound calmer, he realized that as Charlie stepped back and away from him a little, but he couldn’t find it in himself to calm down. He was just so _angry_ at Cas, he couldn’t bother to tune it down.

“Castiel is… indisposed, at the moment.”

Indisposed? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“Meaning?”

Hannah looked spooked for some reason, her eyes shifting into something more… heavy, Dean guessed. It was unexpected, because he wasn’t quite used to seeing Hannah express something so close to actual emotion, but he didn’t exactly have the headspace to dwell on it at the moment. “The stolen Grace is burning out faster than it was before. I believe… he does not have much long.”

And that, right there, felt like a stab in the gut. It was weird how just a few words managed to drain the anger away, replacing it with an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite understand. Dean should he angry, he knew that, because Cas had all but used him, betrayed him even, but how could he stay angry at the angel when the thought that Cas was actually dying loomed over his head? It hurt to even imagine it, along with a bunch of other things Dean couldn’t exactly put a name to, but that all turned around in his chest, forming a whirlwind of emotion he knew he couldn’t tame, not even if he tried to.

“Where the hell is he?” He didn’t realize he had strode over to where Hannah was until he was already speaking to her face, her wide brown eyes filled with surprise at the sudden proximity and low volume of his voice, “Where is he, Hannah?”

The angel was already shaking her head halfway through the first time he asked. “I wish I knew, but he has gone through lengths to keep his location a secret from me and any other angel who tried to locate him. I’m afraid it would be impossible to locate him in time.”

She said it so simply, it didn’t seem like she was talking about a friend. It didn’t look like she was talking about a living, breathing person—an angel, yes, but Cas had never been like the others. If there was any one of those feathered bastards that did not deserve to die, it was Cas, and here Hannah was, saying that she couldn’t fucking _find_ him.

“Dean…”

Dean turned away when he realized Sam was walking over to him, “Don’t.” He just didn’t want to hear it; he didn’t want to listen to a bunch of words that wouldn’t help him _or_ Cas. Words wouldn’t get rid of the Mark or save Cas’ life, at least not words that were not part of some miracle spell. Whatever Sam wanted to say to try to ‘comfort’ him or whatever it was that Sam called it wouldn’t help him; it would only make things worse.

He was walking away a moment later, storming out of the library and over to his room, closing the door and locking it behind himself. He wanted to punch something, to throw stuff around until everything around him was thrashed, to flip furniture around and break anything he saw, but he knew part of that was just the Mark talking, fueling on his anger and taking advantage of it, making him see red and thirst for whatever bit of action it could get. Because those were the emotions it feasted on—anger, hatred, blood thirst; that was what the Mark wanted him to feel.

Somehow, he refrained, sticking to just sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, panting as he tried to calm down his racing heart. The Mark burned, but he did his best to ignore it.

The anger was back, but not the same way as before. He was angry at Cas, yes, but not for the same reasons. He was still hurt, but what hurt more was the fact that Cas would rather lock himself up somewhere to die than _talk_ to them; that hiding away and dying alone would be better than asking for their help. Didn’t he at least consider the fact that Dean fucking cared? Had he not paid attention that night? Maybe Dean hadn’t said it out loud, but he had been sure Cas would have gotten the message after what they did. Maybe he just didn’t care about what his dying would do to Dean. Or maybe he didn’t fully understand it; Dean had to consider that one too.

With slightly shaky hands, Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, eyeing it wearily, like it might bite him or something. In a sense, it felt like it too as he pulled up Cas’ contact and just stared down at it. His thumb hovered over the call button for only a second before he changed his mind and threw his phone back onto the bed, letting out a shaky breath. He couldn’t do this. He was pissed at Cas, even more now than he had been before, but that wouldn’t make Cas pick up the damn phone. Cas didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. He had made that clear enough. All that was left for Dean to do was to accept that and get over it.

If only it could be that easy.

***~*~*~*~***

“He sounded…” Hannah tilted her head to the side, searching for the right word, Sam supposed. “Angry,” she finally decided.

Sam snorted at that. Understatement…

“Not just that,” Charlie commented, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes glued to the spot where Dean had vanished not a full minute before, “There was something else.”

“What else?” Sam asked, frowning at her.

“I don’t know,” Her voice sounded a little distant as she turned her head to look at Sam, shaking it slightly as she spoke, sitting back down on her chair. Her brows were furrowed, making it evident she was thinking the matter through somewhat, or maybe considering something Sam could not entirely see, “He got really angry when you mentioned Cas, sure, but there was something else to it. I could swear he looked hurt.”

Sam let out a breath at that, letting himself fall onto a chair across from Charlie at the table. He hadn’t been able to see Dean’s face as clearly as Charlie had, when the girl had been standing right before his brother for most of the conversation while Sam had been standing a few steps behind his brother, but he could easily imagine what she was describing. And at that image, his mind went straight back to the subject he had been dwelling on for a few days now, to no avail.

“Something happened with Dean and Cas,” Sam let out in the midst of a heavy breath, “He won’t tell me what it was, but I know it did.”

It hadn’t been hard to figure it out. Every time Sam mentioned Cas after the witch accident in Omaha, Dean got defensive for some reason, like he did whenever there was something he didn’t want Sam to know about and didn’t exactly know how to cover it up. What was really weird, though, was that Dean actually got _nervous_ when he brought Cas up in any way, and he just shut Sam out completely after it.

All that had led Sam to believe something had happened while he had been in the hospital; something Dean didn’t want him to know about for whatever reason. The problem was, however, that Sam had no idea what that could be, considering that it had taken Dean three days to show up after Cas healed him. Dean had told him he had been taking care of Cas during that time, but Sam just knew there was more to it than just that. He just wished he knew what that was, but no matter how much thought he put into it, he couldn’t for the life of him figure it out.

“What do you mean something happened?” Charlie asked curiously, her eyes oddly alert and attentive, “Like, you think they had a fight or something?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I can’t tell what happened, but it really shook Dean, whatever it was.”

Something Sam didn’t quite understand crossed Charlie’s eyes, an emotion so hard to read Sam actually frowned in confusion at the sight of it. There was some kind of glint to her eyes all of a sudden, causing the youngest Winchester to frown in confusion, unsure what to make of it. “What?” he asked, because could Charlie have seen something he hadn’t in Dean’s earlier outburst?

Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but closed it only a moment later, biting down onto her bottom lip in what Sam assumed to be concentration. She seemed to think for a while before she stood up from her chair in a rush, apparently having changed her mind on voicing whatever idea she had conjured in her head a few seconds ago and for some reason having decided to just walk out of the library without a warning.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked before she could leave the room, annoyed (and maybe a little offended if he really thought about it) that she had decided to just ignore his question and leave him without an answer.

Charlie paused by the doorway, lingering a little as she seemed to consider what to say. “I’m gonna talk to Dean.”

Something floated in between her words, a note of something Sam couldn’t quite read. He swallowed, realizing that maybe Charlie knew something he didn’t, and that was fine, really, even though it kind of hurt to realize maybe Charlie knew Dean better than Sam himself in some aspects, or at least could read him better sometimes, even after all the years Sam had spent learning how to interpret all the signs he could get from Dean.

“Alright,” he managed, reminding himself that if Charlie could get Dean to open up, then that was already progress, and that he shouldn’t feel bad that he wouldn’t be the one to do it. “Good luck,” He even managed a small, encouraging smile at her.

Charlie smiled back, nodding once before slipping out into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, disappearing from sight without another word.

***~*~*~*~***

Maybe the knock on his door shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it was, but Dean still startled, jumping a little at the sudden sound of a knuckle colliding with the old, dry wood of his room door. He glanced at it for just a second before lying his head back down onto the bed, closing his eyes and choosing to just ignore the world. That just seemed better than talking to anyone right now.

Whoever was out there was insistent, though, because the knocking picked up again a moment later. Damn it, Sammy…

“Dean,” Dean frowned as he recognized Charlie’s voice coming from out in the hallway. Not Sammy, then. “I know you’re ignoring me.” A pause. Maybe she would go away if Dean pretended to be asleep? Yeah, that sounded good. A loud sigh came from outside, “Come on, don’t be a baby.” Dean rolled his eyes at that, but still didn’t move or make a sound. “I know you’re listening, Dean.” Another pause, then a low, almost hesitant, “I just want to talk.”

Dean wasn’t sure what it was about it, whether it was the words themselves or the almost wounded tone that Charlie used to say them, but either way, Dean could only let out a defeated sigh as he got up from his bed and walked over to the door to unlock it. Maybe she was right, he was pretty sure he might be acting a little childishly, so he forced himself to cut it out a little and open the door. What bad could talking to Charlie do, anyway?

As soon as Charlie was inside, he closed the door again, but didn’t lock it for Charlie’s sake. He could only hope his brother wouldn’t have the bright idea of joining them in here, because Dean really didn’t think he could handle the two of them together right now. He had been sulking just fine on his own.

“Sorry for the terrible welcome back party,” Dean muttered as he sat back down onto the bed. “When did you get back from Oz, anyway?” He knew Sam had already told him that, but it was a good conversation starter, anyway.

Charlie shrugged, “Yesterday. Sam thought someone had broken in and almost shot me in the face.”

Dean chuckled at that, but didn’t comment.

Silence took over the room after that, and it grew tense in just a moment. Dean wasn’t sure what Charlie wanted to achieve here, but he could tell that whatever it was, she was pretty nervous about it, judging by the way she kept shifting uncomfortably on her two feet every few seconds. Still, he wouldn’t push her to say anything; he just waited until she felt like she could get it out, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like what he would hear.

Finally, Charlie spoke again, “What’s up with you?” The way her voice sounded so weak and small and just plan hesitant had Dean doing a double take, because that was so unlike Charlie it was actually worrying.

He frowned at her, but managed a quick shrug of his shoulders at the question. “What do you mean?” He knew she wasn’t talking about the Mark without even asking, and somehow a snarky or sarcastic comment just didn’t feel right in that moment.

Charlie shrugged in response; such a feeble, subtle movement that was barely there. “I don’t know. There’s something… wrong, I think. Not with you, but… I feel like there’s something you’re not telling us here.”

Well, that was just great. Leave it to Charlie to catch onto something too. Just what he needed. Dean already had Sam nagging him about this stuff, he didn’t need Charlie to join his brother on it.

“Nothing happened, Charls.”

One of Charlie’s eyebrows rose at that, forming a pointed look on her face that clearly said she wasn’t buying what he was selling. “Even Sam knows something happened, Dean. He thinks you and Cas had a fight or something, but…”

Dean looked away at that, holding back a snort. No, they definitely didn’t have a fight; it was quite the opposite of that, really. To have a fight, they would have to _talk_ , but Cas was too much of a coward to do that. Of course, Dean wasn’t going to tell her that. “We just… had a disagreement, I guess.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Dean shook his head, still not looking at her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about this, because sometimes he just felt like he would explode if he didn’t tell someone; if he didn’t get it off his chest once and for all. Sometimes he just really wished he could get somebody else’s opinion on this, considering that he had thought it all through so many times already that it was already starting to become unhealthy.

The problem was that he _couldn’t_ talk about it.

“No.”

Dean didn’t look up after saying it; he just paid attention as he waited for the sound of the door opening and closing again, which would tell him Charlie had left the room and that he was alone again. But the sound never came. Instead, he found himself noticing the mattress dipping down with the weight of another person being added onto it. Great…

“Dean, you know you can talk to me about… whatever it is, right? Sam, too.”

This time, Dean actually allowed a huff to leave his lips, because no, he couldn’t talk about this with Sam or Charlie. He just couldn’t. Even if he tried, he doubted he could manage the words to say it out loud. He never had.

He was shaking his head before he could stop it, the words leaving his mouth without his consent, “I can’t, Charls. Not about this.” He regretted them a moment later, realizing that maybe he had given a little too much away, but he couldn’t take them back now. Hopefully Charlie wouldn’t understand them as a confirmation of whatever she was thinking.

There was a long pause after that, which had Dean growing a little nervous and wondering if Charlie would even say anything at all again. Maybe she _had_ understood the hidden meaning in his words, and that thought alone was pretty much terrifying.

“You know, it wasn’t easy for me either.” Her words had Dean frowning in confusion, but he remained quiet. “When I realized I was different.”

And that, right there, had Dean’s entire body tensing up. He knew that if he had been looking at Charlie in the eye, he would most likely look like a freaking deer in headlights. He couldn’t be gladder to be looking away. Still, it didn’t help the fact that Charlie was actually onto something here, and that sent his entire mind into panic mode. How could Charlie even _know_ …?

“It’s hard, I know. You’re afraid people will hate you for it, or treat you differently, so you hide it away. I went through that. And it took me years to actually get comfortable enough to be open with it. But I am open about it now, and trust me, it’s a lot better this way, to be… okay with who you are.”

Dean swallowed drily, hating how his throat suddenly felt like sandpaper. Briefly, he wondered how Charlie knew about this, but he guessed it really did take one to know one. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to agree with her.

It had indeed been terrifying for Dean to realize he was different. He had been thirteen at the time, and without any guidance from his absent father, he had absolutely no idea what was going on. He had a crush on another guy, Riley Bakers, who happened to be a year older than him at their current high school at the time, some place in the south of Georgia. And of course, as soon as he realized what was happening, his first conclusion had been to assume there was something wrong with him.

Still, he was naïve and young, so of course he had asked John about it when his father was back from the hunt he had been working on for three weeks.

And that, as expected, went on just _terribly._

That night was a bit of a blur to Dean, but he still remembered the look of disappointment on John Winchester’s face as soon as the words were out of his mouth very clearly, just as he remembered the very colorful name calling that followed. Dean had been lucky that John had been partially sober that night, or else his father might have started swinging, had he been drunk enough for that. But then again, maybe it would have been better if John had been drunk, because then he wouldn’t have remembered any of it the next day, or ever.

His father never treated him the same way again after that. John got harsher; his words had a new, sharper edge to them. And at the time, Dean thought he actually deserved it, because he was a freak, or at least that was what his father had told him. And for years, he believed the man. He believed that to be a real man he had to chase after women and drink beer and whiskey and basically sleep around with as many hot chicks as he could find.

John had been dead for a while until Dean actually allowed himself to try to think otherwise. Having just a few weeks before his deadline after he’d sold his soul to bring Sam back to life had been what drove him over the edge, to be honest. He was already going to Hell, so what did he have to lose, really? So one night at a bar, he warned Sam to book two single rooms instead of one for them both and brought a guy to his room instead of a girl. And he liked it; a lot.

That happened two more times before he died, and Sam never even dreamt of it.

And then he was back topside and Castiel just strolled into his life, and that was when it all came crashing down. Of course, the fact that he was checking out an angel as soon as he met the guy wasn’t helping at all; in fact, it made him feel pretty damn awful. He was pretty sure he would be going back to Hell after that, so the fact that when he died again over a year later he ended up in Heaven was truly a surprise.

At first, Cas had just been another angel with a stick up his ass and a gigantic ego, so Dean didn’t think too much of his attraction. Cas was very good looking (or Jimmy Novak was, anyway), and pretty much Dean’s type too, with the suit, unruly dark hair and unbelievably blue eyes. The angel easily looked like someone Dean would be very happy to pick up at a bar one night. But that was really all it had been in the beginning—nothing but physical attraction, because the first version of Cas Dean met had been a total douche, to be honest.

But then Cas started giving Dean small glimpses of himself that told Dean maybe Cas wasn’t exactly the conceded angel Dean had first met; that maybe Cas was hiding a lot away in his own mind, but was too afraid to let it out. Heaven did use to keep angels on a tight leash back then. But eventually, Castiel had opened up. He began to confide in Dean in ways that Heaven certainly didn’t approve of, but he did anyway. And with that, Dean started actually _liking_ Cas, not exactly like a school girl crush, but the angel did become someone he really enjoyed being around, and maybe someone Dean could actually trust.

And then Cas rebelled from everything he had ever known for Dean and the Apocalypse was going on out there, and things started to get complicated, because Dean knew he was starting to feel things he shouldn’t be feeling for a fallen angel that was slowly becoming his best friend.

Dean had stopped sleeping around so much at that point, even if unconsciously. For some reason, it didn’t feel right anymore.

The time Cas went off to Heaven after Sam took the swan dive into the Cage hurt more than Dean allowed himself to admit. It wasn’t like he had hoped the angel would just ditch Heaven and stick around permanently, but a visit from time to time certainly couldn’t hurt, or maybe just a message, _anything_ would have been good, really. Dean wished to hear the sound of wings flapping more often than he should throughout his time with Lisa, although it made him terribly feel guilty. He was living with Lisa and Ben and still wishing to see Cas, but it wasn’t like he could control that.

Cas’ betrayal hurt a lot. And while Sam and Bobby had believed it more easily, it had taken Dean a long time to even consider it as a possibility. So finding out that Cas had actually been working with _Crowley_ behind his back, that the angel had lied to his face for months, felt like a true stab in the gut, because it could only mean that Cas didn’t trust him enough to even ask him for help. He could have come to him; Dean would have done everything he could to help him when things against Raphael had gotten rough. But Cas had preferred to make a deal with the freaking _King of Hell_ than coming to Dean.

Castiel’s death after the whole Purgatory fiasco had really sent Dean spiraling, nose-diving into day after day of dark thoughts and something he was pretty sure might be considered a depression. Maybe he shouldn’t have felt that way, not after what Cas had done, but apparently that didn’t matter. He felt like a chunk of his chest had been ripped out, and he couldn’t stop wondering if maybe things would have gone differently if he had done something, if he just had _tried harder_ and made Cas see reason. But he hadn’t and Cas was dead and he wouldn’t come back, Dean knew that.

So the nightmares came, haunting his every second of attempted sleep. He could see Cas going into that river over and over again, covered in blood and black goo, melting away under the power of all Leviathan combined. He should have helped Cas; he should have _done_ something.

Sam and Bobby both noticed something was wrong during that time, but fortunately, they didn’t insist too much on the subject.

Seeing Cas again after so many months had been a punch to the gut. Dean wasn’t sure what to feel—if he should be pissed because of everything Cas had done or happy that the angel was actually alive. The fact that Cas (or Emmanuel, in that case) didn’t remember a thing actually gave Dean some time to sort out his thoughts. He was mad for a while, sure, but it didn’t last, especially not after Cas transferred Sam’s insanity to himself.

But then Cas was crazy and acting like a child most of the time, so Dean wouldn’t allow himself to have certain thoughts about the angel, because that was just wrong.

And then Purgatory happened.

Dean was pretty sure it was in Purgatory that Dean realized he was actually in love with Castiel. Sure, he knew he felt something stronger than he had ever felt romantically for anyone before in his entire life. Not even during his time with Cassie or Lisa had he ever felt something that strong; such a strong pull toward someone, an actual need to be around them and a feeling of lightness whenever he was with them that he just couldn’t explain. But he had never even allowed the thought of... well, _that_. Not until he realized what losing Cas again would to do him.

He remembered all the nights he had spent curled up around himself shivering with the constant coldness of the air in Purgatory with Benny keeping watch and trying not to think about the possibility that he might never find Cas in that vastness of trees and abominations. He couldn’t even bear the thought of it, so he shoved it away into the deepest, darkest parts of his mind and just didn’t think about it. That was, until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and just spilled his guts to Benny one day after a particularly bad encounter with a handful of werewolves.

For the first time since Dean had met Benny, the vampire didn’t crack a single joke.

And when Dean found Cas and the angel told him that he had bailed on him, it hurt. It wasn’t a surprise, though, that Cas would think it was the right thing, and it was surprisingly easy to just shove that aside and forget the hurt from having Cas abandon him in that land of monsters simply for the fact it was _Cas_.

It was a true relief to have Cas actually agree to join their excursion to find the way out of Purgatory, but when they actually found the portal and Cas stayed back…

Dean knew he had failed Cas yet again, and he hated himself for it. He would dream of Purgatory every night, of how he didn’t hold on strongly enough, of how it was his own damn fault that Cas hadn’t made it back to Earth like he and Benny had. But when Cas came back and told him that he had actually meant to stay in Purgatory all along, Dean hated himself for not figuring it out sooner, because he knew he could have gotten Cas to go with him if he had just tried harder to convince the angel. Dean would drag Cas back to Earth with him, or he wouldn’t leave at all, but he hadn’t been expecting Cas to actually want to stay behind, so he hadn’t exactly had the chance to do something about it at the time.

And then Naomi happened, and Dean was suddenly convinced that they just couldn’t catch a fucking break. And just to prove that point, soon enough came the Tablets and the Trials, all of it followed closely by the Angel Fall, and then Cas was human and Dean was kicking him out of the Bunker because Ezekiel had asked him to, even after everything Cas had gone through—hitchhiking, staying in shelters and basically dealing with the threat of starving and freezing to death every day, then actually _dying_ at the hands of that reaper bitch, April. The guilt he felt for that threatened to swallow him whole every time he thought about it, and that only got worse after Dean saw the working at that Gas n’ Sip. Cas looked miserable there, even if he tried to convince Dean otherwise, and it just broke Dean’s heart to realize just how lowly Cas thought of himself to actually seem so convinced that selling condiments and cleaning toilets was really all he was good for.

But Sam’s life had been on the line at the time and Dean really thought he was doing the right thing with the whole Ezekiel (or Gadreel) deal, so what was he supposed to do? Just let Sam die?

And now, with the Mark of Cain and Cas’ quickly fading Grace, Dean just hadn’t even allowed the thought of acting on anything. What good would that do? Dean was poison; he was a freaking time bomb ready to go off at any second. He had convinced himself a long time ago that nothing would ever happen between himself and the angel, which was for the best, because he definitely didn’t deserve Cas, anyway.

But then the whole thing with Sam happened in Omaha and Cas was there, telling him all the things he had wanted to hear for years. For a night, Dean had been _happy_. He had dreamed of that moment for _years_ , and for a moment of weakness, he had allowed himself to have what he wanted, for once. And it had felt so fucking good to do that, he should have known it was just too good to be true.

Of course, the whole fantasy was shattered the moment he realized Cas had bailed the morning after. Or, three mornings later, but still.

And now, as he stared at Charlie’s big, pleading eyes, Dean realized he actually _wanted_ to talk about all that. Maybe it would feel good to take it all off his chest and just _talk_ about these things for once, since he had been doing the complete opposite of that throughout his entire life.

He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. He didn’t know how to do this. In fact, he still wasn’t sure if he _could_ do it.

It wasn’t that Dean hadn’t yet come to terms with himself being bisexual, because honestly, he had. And that was really it. He was okay with himself being like that, but he wasn’t sure he could be open about it. Maybe he feared that Sam would look at him differently, or maybe it was just John Winchester’s voice whispering in the back of his head that he was a freak and a disgrace to the Winchester name. Either way, whatever it was, he just couldn’t do it.

And Cas had just screwed it all up even more, because as much as Dean had enjoyed the nights he’d spent with guys, he had never actually imagined having something more than just a simple one night stand with a guy. But Cas made Dean want much more than just one night rolling in the sheets. And honestly, Dean still wasn’t sure how to deal with that. But above all, he just couldn’t make himself tell Sam about any of it, or anyone, really. Dean was pretty sure he’d never be ready for that.

“I’m not asking you to open up to me, Dean,” Charlie’s voice made Dean snap back to reality without a warning, “I just want you to know that if you need to talk… I’m here to listen.”

She didn’t say anything else. She just smiled—something small and discreet and clearly meant to be reassuring—patted his shoulder and stood up from the bed. She didn’t insist; didn’t try to make Dean talk, maybe because she knew he wouldn’t if she did it.

And maybe it was just that what made Dean snap—the fact that he was actually given a choice here. Or maybe it was just the fact that he suddenly realized that, of all people he knew, if there was one person who could understand him, it was Charlie, the girl who had pretty much become a little sister to him over the past three years. Dean didn’t know for sure what exactly made him break; all he knew was that the moment Charlie opened the door of his room and had been about to leave, he found himself calling out for her.

“Charlie, wait.”

The redhead’s eyes were hopeful when she turned back around, a hint of a smile tugging the corner of her lips upward.

Slowly, she closed the door again.

***~*~*~*~***

This had to work.

Castiel had been working on this for days now, struggling to make sure every single detail of this perfect, because it _had_ to be perfect. He checked the engravings around the bowl for the hundredth time, or so it seemed, although he already knew he would find them a flawless copy of what he had envisioned, just like it had happened the countless times he had checked it before.

The spell was rather simple, much simpler than many of the others he had cast throughout his existence, and although it had taken him days of incessant research on his own—he could not ask another angel for help, he would not dare, not with this—he should have no problem with it. And even so, he felt nervous. The weight of what might occur if he failed floated over his head like a dark, black cloud. He could not fail.

After having added everything he would need to the interior of the bowl, except for the two most vital ingredients of the spell, he began to recite the incantation, which he had memorized perfectly, right down to the last letter, carefully sounding each word on his tongue to reach the perfect pronunciation. One single syllable uttered incorrectly could have disastrous consequences.

He could not fail.

Castiel could feel the power drawing at his Grace. He felt his Grace burning as it struggled to do what he asked of it, almost screaming at the effort of supplying him the enormous amount of energy he needed, but no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much his very essence _begged_ for him not to do this, he could not allow himself to stop. This had to be done.

The wind began to whistle around the house, whipping against the wood of the walls and screeching as the night fell outside, like it knew something was happening inside.

Castiel continued.

When the time came, he raised his sword, slicing a cut over his wrist and allowing his blood to flow into the bowl, bringing the spell one step closer to completion. The whistling got stronger at the power flowing through his vessel, his muscles aching as the limited amount of Grace that still resided inside his body struggled to give him the power he needed to complete his current task. He did not stop, ignoring the protests coming from deep within his very soul, warning him he was crossing a very dangerous line, and that the risks that came with doing this were very, _very_ high.

Slowly, he placed his blade onto the table and picked up the last ingredient of the spell. He had collected it with guilt, and he still felt regretful for it, ashamed even, just as he felt about everything else related to it. But it had to be done. He had realized he needed this the moment what he had done became clear. Dean had been unconscious at the time, and he had not felt a thing as Castiel collected what he needed, and Castiel made sure not to leave any traces behind after he fled.

Carefully, Castiel opened the small vial and allowed the blood resting inside of it to flow into the bowl, mingling with his own.

He felt the shift instantly. He felt the moment the spell started to work, attempting to break what had been built, make it crumble to bits, and it hurt. The pain was much stronger than he had imagined it would be, but he did his best to endure it. He managed not to make a sound for only a short moment, until it became almost unbearable. A pained scream escaped his lips, his insides lighting up like he was burning up from the inside.

There were also the images, which had become fairly common during the past few days, but that now hit him with full force. The Bunker, he could see it clearly, just as he had been able to see the motel room. There were two faces he failed to recognize there: a redheaded girl with dark green eyes and short curly hair, and a young blonde with careful, concentrated brown eyes. He saw Sam, too, an expression of worry now apparently constant on the younger Winchester’s face.

That was the last coherent thought Castiel’s mind managed to conjure until the pain got worse. His right forearm burned like there was something piercing through his skin, like a cattle brand marking the tissue, but going right down to the bone and about a thousand times worse than what that must feel like. It was a dizzying feeling, so disorientating he soon found himself on the floor with the room spinning around him. He felt the blood pooling into his mouth, though he wasn’t sure how much of it was actually his.

He felt it all, but only for a moment. In the next, he blacked out.

***~*~*~*~***

“I mean, I don’t even know what I was expecting to happen. I wasn’t really thinking, to be honest. I just… I never even expected, well… _that_.”

Dean wasn’t sure when a short explanation had turned into a full blown therapeutic-feeling-sharing session, but here he was, sitting on his bed at the Bunker and pouring out his freaking heart and soul for Charlie to hear. Of course, he hadn’t told her _every single detail,_ but he still said a lot more than he had ever thought he could, starting with his doubts as a teenager right up to sleeping with Cas and waking up to an empty bed the morning after.

Charlie, for her part, just listened quietly. She just watched Dean with careful eyes, hanging on to every single word he said, but not saying a thing, for which Dean was extremely glad. He knew he wouldn’t be able to talk if Charlie interrupted him, and she must also know that, because she hadn’t uttered out a single word since he’d first opened his mouth.

Until now, that was.

“I know you’ve probably already thought about this, but… I’m pretty sure Cas must have had a reason to leave, Dean. I mean, I know I haven’t met him personally, but I did read the books and I have heard you and Sam talking about him, and trust me, just taking off like that just doesn’t sound like something he would do, especially not without a reason.”

“Yeah, because picking up a damn cell phone is really _that_ hard,” Dean said bitterly. Sure, he also thought Cas must have had a reason for leaving. He had actually given that a lot of thought during the past two weeks, but he still had no idea what that reason really was, and that made it a little harder to be understanding.

“Trust me, I’m not saying what he did was right. You should really slap him the next time you see him, but…” Charlie shrugged a little, an almost sheepish gesture, “You can’t honestly believe he doesn’t care enough about you to have stayed if something hadn’t happened, Dean.”

Dean rolled her eyes at that, letting out a snort, “Yeah, right.”

“Don’t even start, Dean.” The sudden bite in Charlie’s tone was a surprise that had Dean’s eyebrows rising up to his forehead. It clearly wasn’t angry, though, the girl sounded mostly annoyed. “The guy rebelled from everything he knew for you. He went against everything he had ever believed in, ditched his family and _died_ for you two times! And maybe I don’t know much about what happened after that, but I assume it’s nothing small either. The amount that Cas has sacrificed for you speaks for itself, Dean. He _loves_ you.”

Dean was already shaking his head before she was even done with her speech. “You just don’t get it,” because that didn’t make sense. He had asked Cas if he was attracted to him, and he knew he was an attractive guy, so the angel’s positive answer was something he could accept. But _love_? No, that was just taking it too far. There was no freaking way an angel could love him like that. And no matter how enthusiastic Charlie might be about the idea, Dean just wasn’t going to be convinced.

“No, Dean, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who doesn’t get it,” Charlie’s words might have been harsh if said differently, but her tone was completely sympathetic, almost soothing. There was even a hint of sadness to it that Dean didn’t really understand. “You just don’t think someone could love you like that. Sam’s love you get, he’s your brother, he’s your family, but Cas’? In your mind, you just don’t see it possible for an angel to care so much about you, even if it’s the most obvious thing in the world that he does.”

It was almost terrifying just how easily Charlie could read him. It was like she was reading his mind or something.

And now Dean was back to staring at the wall, because Charlie just _couldn’t_ be right. It just didn’t make sense. He was broken; he was fucking poison, honestly. He was a failure, because he failed every single person he cared about, no exception. His freaking soul was tainted, and he certainly didn’t even deserve Cas’ friendship at this point, let alone anything more than that. And anyway, how could an angel love someone like that, after all the crap he had done?

“He sent Hannah to save you, Dean. Sure, it was a dick move to not go himself, but you can’t say he doesn’t care about you.”

Dean just shook his head at that, not sure how to respond. He still didn’t know what to think of that, honestly. What was Cas playing at here? He had pretty much vanished in the thin air, cutting Dean off completely, but suddenly he was sending Hannah to save Dean because _somehow_ Cas knew Dean was dying in that motel room, which Cas even knew the number of? None of this made sense.

“Don’t give up on him, Dean. If anything, he needs you not to now more than ever.”

“I have no idea where he is, Charlie,” He hated how broken his voice sounded, but it was how he felt inside—broken, shattered, torn up to freaking pieces. Everything was crumbling down around him, and he couldn’t find a way to stop it. “Hannah says there’s no way to track him.”

“And when has that ever stopped you and Sam from doing anything, huh? You guys are the Winchesters! You do the impossible!”

Dean had to actually chuckle at that, a sad, broken sound leaving his lips, but a chuckle nonetheless. He didn’t feel like they deserved such a praise, but Charlie seemed so happy to give it and so filled with hope it actually made him feel a little better. In fact, this whole conversation had lifted a weight off his shoulders he had never even realized he had been carrying throughout his entire life. He didn’t even feel like he had just basically come out of the closet to one of the people he cared about the most in the world. He felt good, for the first time in ages, and actually managed a smile, and a genuine one at that.

“Thanks, Charlie,” he whispered, unsure how to pour all the gratitude he was feeling into his words, “For everything.”

The redhead smiled back at him, raising her arms in invitation but not making a move, giving Dean a choice. With a sigh (and a small, grateful smile still playing on his lips) he leaned into her arms, hugging her tightly. He hadn’t realized he needed a hug until Charlie was giving him one, squeezing his sides almost comfortingly.

Apparently, though, Charlie didn't seem to be done with him just yet. "I meant it, Dean," she whispered, pulling away from him slowly, her eyes meeting his with startling certainty, "Both Sam and I are here to listen whenever you need to talk."

The meaning behind her words couldn't be clearer, and it instantly had Dean looking down to avoid the girl's intense gaze. "I can't tell Sam, Charlie." Telling Charlie had been one thing; she was pretty much on the same boat as him on this. But Sam? Dean had no idea what his brother's reaction to this might be, the single thought of it already enough to fill his insides with dread. What if Sam hated him? What if he was disgusted by him? Or disappointed? Dean could barely even handle the thought of it. "At least not yet," he added, even though he didn't exactly mean it; he just said it for Charlie's sake, to be honest.

"I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, Dean," Dean looked up at her then, finally finding himself able to hold her gaze, "But I don't think you should hide who you are from your own brother. It's not fair to him, but most importantly, it's not fair to you. And I mean, when has hiding things from each other ever worked well for the two of you?" Dean actually chuckled at that, although weakly, and Charlie smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it lightly. "There's no need to be scared, Dean. Sam loves you, and I'm pretty sure nothing could change that, especially not something like this." She sounded so sincere and sure of her words that Dean actually felt compelled to believe her, but he wasn't at all convinced. Just a few reassuring words were definitely not enough to send away the powerful fear he felt at the prospect of coming out to his brother.

He might do it someday, but that day would definitely not come any time soon. At least not if he had any say in it, anyway.

Charlie was gone a moment later when she finally seemed to realize that she wouldn't get a response for that, at last sensing that Dean wasn't in the mood for talking anymore. She left the room with a promise of coming back with food in a few hours, even though Dean wasn’t feeling exactly hungry. Honestly, he was just glad to be alone again after such an intense and stressful conversation.

But being alone meant that he could think, and that wasn’t something Dean was too happy to be doing again, because his mind instantly went back to all those things Charlie was saying and how it actually physically hurt that they weren’t true, even though Dean wanted them to be so much. He knew they weren’t true, that Charlie couldn’t possibly be right about Cas, and he had to just get over it and move on. Cas didn’t love him, and that was the truth. He wouldn’t have left him like he did, for starters, and that alone was enough to have Dean convinced that he was right and Charlie was wrong.

He did wish to be wrong, though. He wished so much it actually ached in his chest. He just wanted—

A gasp escaped his lips when he felt his ribcage constricting over his heart and lungs, his head suddenly growing heavy. The Mark began to burn without a warning, and it all happened so freaking fast that it had Dean falling to his knees onto the floor. He did everything he could not to make a sound, though, no matter how bad the pain was getting with every second that passed. He had to grit his teeth tightly together to keep the sounds in, so much the strain actually hurt his jaw, and even so, a few pained whimpers still escaped his lips, which must have fortunately gone unheard, because no one barged into his room.

He was suddenly lying on his back, the carpet under his body feeling foreign as he felt his muscles tremble. The metallic taste of blood filled with mouth, making it almost impossible to breathe, but me managed to clear his throat a little by coughing up most of it and spitting it onto the floor.

The scene around him was strange. The walls were dark; made of wood and painted with so many symbols he could barely register them all. Some he knew; some he didn’t. They were mostly warding spells; that much he could tell. Through a window, he could see a forest.

He could feel his conscience slowly slipping away, but he could do nothing about it. He felt like he was burning up from the inside, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his skin was actually melting off his bones right now, because it sure as hell felt like it. There was something else, also, a tug somewhere he couldn’t place that hurt like someone was actually cutting off one of his limbs. Flames erupted from his abdomen and threatened to swallow him whole, and for a while, he was sure they would.

And then he was back in the Bunker, panting and on all fours, but surprisingly conscious. The pain faded without a warning, leaving a tingling feeling all over his body in its place.

It took him a while to actually get himself to move. The room still spun for a while, but he managed, getting to his feet and somehow balancing his body upright. His breathing was still heavy for a while.

What really made him move, though, was the weird feeling he had that there was something… _wrong_. He didn’t know what it meant or where it was coming from, but he suddenly felt uncomfortable in that room. It was like the walls were suddenly closing in on him, the small closed space becoming suffocating in no time at all as the air he breathed in grew thinner in his airways. He needed to get out of there. Most importantly, he felt like he just had to do _something_ , no matter what that was. He couldn’t just stand there anymore.

Somehow he knew that whatever was going on with him had something to do with the cottage he had seen in his head back in that motel room in Colorado, which he assumed he had just seen the interior of. He had no idea where those images were coming from, or why the hell he was seeing them whenever the Mark was acting up, but he knew he had to figure it out. And if he figured out where that place was, maybe he would find some of the answers he had been craving so strongly for so long.

And maybe it was just wishful thinking (it probably was, if he was being honest with himself), but he had a feeling whatever the reason for him to be seeing that cabin was, it had something to do with Cas. He knew it was a long shot (a _very_ long shot), and that these images probably didn’t have anything to do with the angel, but he couldn’t think of any other thing to do other than to go with his gut on this one and look for the places he had seen. He had already tried everything else, even attempting to reach the GPS in Cas’ phone, but the bastard had turned that off.

Firing up his laptop, Dean typed the name ‘Zoe’s Haven’ into the search engine, half-expecting to find out that the place wasn’t even real. And even if it was, he couldn’t know if the place was connected to the cabin, but it was already a start, and he would take what he could get at this point.

As it turned out, the place actually existed. It was a small bed and breakfast somewhere in Montana, just a few miles out of Absarokee, a small town by the foot of the Beartooth Mountains. Closing his laptop, Dean let out a sigh. It wasn’t that long of a drive, probably like eight hours or something. He could make it in less, he was sure.

The only problem with his trip was that knew exactly what Sam would say about Dean leaving the Batcave, whatever his reason to do it might be. He knew his brother well enough to be sure that Sam would tie him down to the freaking bed if he had to if Dean told him that he wanted to get out of the Bunker again, especially after what had happened the last time Dean had left this place.

Also, he knew he needed to go on his own, which would just make the idea sound even worse in Sam’s ears. But even if he wanted to, Dean knew he couldn’t bring Sam along with him, especially if this trip did end up leading him to Cas after all. He had to do this alone, and that left him with one single option available.

He would have to make a break for it tonight.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam woke up with a start.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the library again, but maybe he should have taken the hint when his eyelids started drooping that it was time to stop reading and go to bed. Dragging a hand over his face, he tried to wake up even just a little bit, as well as block a little of the yawn that followed a moment later.

“You seem tired.”

He jumped, spinning around in his chair to find Hannah sitting on a chair by the wall, watching him with an almost bored expression on her face, but Sam could be wrong about that. She had a book resting on her lap, a different one than Sam had seen her holding earlier.

“I’m fine.” Sam stood up, intending to go over to the kitchen to make some coffee, which had become sort of a ritual by now. He should stop drinking so much of the stuff, he knew it wasn’t healthy, but he would allow it for now. The Mark wouldn’t wait to kill his brother, or at least turn Dean back into a monster, so he was basically on the clock here, and they were running out of time fast. His health could be put on hold for the time being. “How long was I out for?”

“Three hours, forty seven minutes and fifty eight seconds.”

Well, that wasn’t creepy at all.

Shaking his head a little and deciding not to comment on that, Sam concluded that he had had enough sleep for the night and that he should get back to research after a mug or two of strong, black coffee. He had some urgent matters to research on, and they just couldn’t wait. His brother’s life and so many more were at stake here and time was their biggest enemy right now.

“Where’s Charlie?” Sam asked as he walked out of the kitchen a few minutes later with a mug of steaming, freshly-made coffee clasped in his hand.

Hannah glanced up from her book calmly. She eyed the mug for a moment, curious, or maybe reprehending Sam a little for forcing his body to stay awake when it clearly didn’t want to. She didn’t comment on it, though, and for that, Sam was glad. “She retreated to her room not long after you fell asleep, announcing she needed to… ‘recharge her batteries’, although I do not understand what kind of batteries she was referring to. Humans do not require batteries to function.”

Sam actually smiled at that, sipping at his coffee. The look of confusion on the angel’s face whenever Charlie basically said or did something was just so hilarious, he couldn’t help it. He decided not to explain what Charlie had meant with that expression to Hannah, because that just wasn’t worth it. He had learned that lesson a long time ago with Cas.

The silence that filled the room was a little awkward, but Sam wasn’t sure how to break it. Hannah didn’t seem to mind, though. She just continued reading her book like she didn’t have a single care in the world, while her posture was stiff and tense, as if she didn’t exactly feel… comfortable here. She reminded Sam a lot of Cas when they’d first met him all those years ago, all stiff postured and distant, like most angels that had never been to Earth before seemed to act, which was something the few months Hannah had spent down here had not been able to wash away. It made Sam realize just how much Cas had changed over the years. It wasn’t like he missed the old Cas, though; not at all, in fact.

Sam was about halfway done with his coffee when Hannah broke the silence.

“This is a very rare collection of books,” she commented without even looking up at Sam, “The Men of Letters did an amazing work finding all of them.”

“Yeah,” Sam remembered how Cas had said pretty much the same thing the first time they’d introduced him to all the books the Bunker housed, “Too bad they apparently have nothing on what we really need.” Or at least that was the result he had gotten so far, because he had yet to find one single useful mention of the Mark of Cain in a book in this place. He was already starting to believe maybe he wouldn’t find any, which sent a wave of pure despair through his being every time the single thought of it as much as crossed his mind. He had to find something; there _had_ to be something in this place that would help his brother. He just had to keep looking.

“It is not a surprise, unfortunately,” Hannah’s voice was so calm she might as well be talking about the weather, which had Sam gritting his teeth a little in annoyance, “Although there might be something. There are books here about subjects older than the Mark itself.”

Sam just nodded in response, holding on even to the smallest bit of hope he was given, as he seemed to be doing a lot lately. He was happy with anything he could get these days, to be honest. “Do you…” He swallowed drily, hating the thought of what he was about to say, but this was a question he had to ask, no matter how painful and bitter the words sounded on his tongue, “Do you think there is anything to find, though? A cure for the Mark or something?”

Hannah didn’t respond for so long that Sam was sure she just wasn’t going to, or maybe that whatever she had to say just wouldn’t be good and she somehow had the tact to realize that. When he raised his head to look back up at the angel, however, Sam found her frowning, her eyes distant, as if not paying attention to the conversation at all.

“It appears… there is a disturbance somewhere close.”

Sam’s entire body tensed up at that. “What kind of disturbance?”

And that was when he heard it—a loud bang, followed by the sound of an engine struggling to work, apparently under a lot of weight. That sounded a lot like…

The garage gate was being opened.

Sam jumped from his chair in a flash, hurrying down the path he knew would lead to where they kept the cars and other vehicles in the Bunker, not exactly putting any thought into his movements. He started truly running a moment later when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala’s engine starting up.

_No…_

He ran as fast as his legs would allow, his brain trying and failing to catch up with what was going on. He was shocked, he assumed, because he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Dean might actually want to make a break for it, not after what had happened in Colorado. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he might actually have to lock Dean in.

He burst through the doors of the garage a second too late. He was still able to see the rear of the Impala as it steered out of the garage and into the night, and as useless as that might have been, Sam still ran after the car for a few seconds, yelling for Dean to stop. Of course, his brother didn’t stop.

Sam cursed as he forced his body into a halt. Dean couldn’t be alone right now. Dean _knew_ that. How could he do this to himself? To Sam? Why couldn’t he just…

“Sam?”

Sam only realized he was panting in what might be considered a full-blown panic attack when he caught sight of Charlie’s wide, shocked eyes. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing what Sam assumed was her sleeping outfit—colorful socks, blue shorts and a baggy Lord of the Rings shirt with the words ‘You Shall Not Pass!’ written on the front. Behind her, Hannah was watching the scene with careful eyes.

“What happened?” Charlie asked, her voice low and almost tentative, though Sam had a feeling she knew exactly what had just happened, she just needed to confirm it.

Letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh, Sam forced the words out of his mouth.

“Dean’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, I wonder what Dean will find in his trip... And what is Cas up to? I wonder... ;)
> 
> By the way, I have no idea if Zoe's Haven is a real place anywhere, I kind of made the name up. Also, any information on Absarokee presented in this chapter and in the following others come from nothing more than research, I have never been there personally. I also might make up a few things about the town to fit the plot of the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait, I had planned to post this chapter a few weeks ago, but life kind of got in the way.
> 
> For some reason, I just loved how this chapter turned out, and I hope you guys do too. :)
> 
> Warning: This chapter is kind of heavy and angsty, and it gets pretty dark and graphic at some points.

Dean groaned as he braced the toilet in front of him, inside which he had just emptied his stomach.

He had driven for five hours straight until he realized he would end up falling asleep behind the wheel and hurting his Baby if he didn’t make a stop somewhere, so that ended up being exactly what he did just a few minutes later, driving into the first motel he could find and renting a single room for the night. He had passed out after a quick shower, sleeping very well into late morning the next day, which had become somewhat of a common occurrence lately. The amount of sleep he seemed to need nowadays was worrying to say the least, but all he could do was allow it, otherwise he would feel like he had been stepped on by an elephant parade for the entire following day. It really sucked, and it made him long for the time when he could get through the day with only four hours of sleep. Maybe he was getting too old for this.

After waking up around ten in the morning and getting ready to leave, Dean’s eye had caught sight of the brown paper bag he had brought with him on his trip, which contained the absolutely delicious homemade quesadillas Charlie had cooked up in the Bunker’s kitchen the night before for all of them (although Hannah didn’t eat, just eyed the food curiously). He had thought bringing a bit of it along with him for the drive would be a good idea, but all it took was a small whiff of the bag’s contents for him to be making a run for the bathroom.

He just had no idea what was wrong with him lately. Most foods seemed to make him nauseous and he hated every second of it. The greasy ones seemed to have the worst effect on his angry stomach, which also happened to be without a doubt his favorites, so it was easy to see why this whole thing was highly inconvenient, let alone annoying. At least pie was something he could still eat without a problem; taking pie away from him was one of the worst things the Mark could do to him.

At least he was blaming his angry stomach on the Mark, even though he wasn’t exactly sure if that was really what was causing it. He just couldn’t think of another reason for it, to be honest, and the Mark being annoying was the only thing that made sense anyway.

Dean groaned at the feeling of yet another wave of nausea hitting him with full force at the mere thought of a burger. Yep, it looked like he wouldn’t be eating breakfast today. Or lunch.

It was a false alarm, fortunately, though Dean assumed maybe there wasn’t anything left in his stomach for him to puke out anyway.

He flushed the toilet when he was done and did what he could to rinse the terrible taste in his mouth, but some still lingered as he walked out of the small motel bathroom and back into the room, making him grimace in disgust at the sour taste. He’d just have to put up with it, because eating to get rid of it was just not an option here.

“Not feeling so good, huh, Squirrel?”

Dean spun around, instinctively reaching for the Angel Blade he always carried on the inside of his jacket at the sound of the familiar voice. The heavy British accent was unmistakable.

“Crowley,” Dean kept his muscles tense, ready to swing at any second. He didn’t know what the demon wanted, but it definitely couldn’t be good. Crowley wasn’t the one to just stop by just to say hi, he always had a reason to show up unannounced, and that reason was never anything but bad. “What are you doing here?”

“Moose called me,” Crowley stepped closer to Dean calmly, not even glancing at the sword Dean was holding, like he wasn’t even bothered by it, like he knew Dean wouldn’t use it, “Pretty much begged for me to find you and, what were his words?” The demon glanced up at the ceiling, theatrically pretending to recall what Sam had supposedly said, “Oh, yes, right. ‘Drag the stubborn son of a bitch back to the Bunker, or I’ll kill you dead’.”

Yeah, that sounded like Sam.

“And I assume you’re here to do that?” Dean should have known Sam would get Crowley into this. He should have put up a few wards, too. Damn it, so much for getting away for a while. He held the sword more tightly in his hand, making it obvious he would not be going with Crowley without a fight.

“Not at all,” Dean’s eyebrows went up in surprise, “I love seeing him squirm, honestly. I’m merely here because he mentioned you were getting worse, and _that_ is something I care about.”

“I’m fine, Crowley,” Dean rolled his eyes, finally deciding maybe he wouldn’t need the blade and lowering it. No need to start stabbing if the demon wouldn’t try to make him go back to the Batcave. At that thought, Dean walked over to where he had dropped his duffel bag last night and hauled it onto the bed, unzipping it quickly.

“Clearly.”

The sarcasm was hard to miss even in that single word, but Dean chose to ignore it. Instead, he focused on shoving whatever he had yet to pack inside the duffel and zipping it shut.

“Now, where did you plan on going that was worth getting good little dear Samantha so worried?”

Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Dean eyed the room around him for a moment, making sure he hadn’t left anything behind. They had done that once, while John was still dragging the brothers around the country. Dean could still remember just how livid his father had been when John had gotten a call about some weird items forgotten in his room. They were lucky it hadn’t been something too suspicious or some kind of monster killing weapon, so they hadn’t gotten in trouble for it, but John was still pissed at them both for being so careless, mostly at Dean, at the time barely ten years old.

When he was content he had everything he had brought with him in his bag, Dean headed for the door of the room. “None of your damn business, Crowley. Don’t you have you somewhere to be? Like, I don’t know, Hell?”

And now Crowley was standing in his way. Great, now the guy was teleporting right to his face. Dean rolled his eyes at that as he was forced to stop walking. It had already been annoying enough when angels used to do that…

“Let me guess,” Crowley began, completely ignoring everything Dean had said before, “You’re going to see the dear little dying angel, Castiel.”

Dean had been about to just walk around Crowley, but those words had his feet glued to the floor where he stood before the demon, and for the life of him he couldn’t find it in himself to move or brush that comment off as Crowley bluffing and just being his usual annoying self. Because what if he wasn't bluffing? Dean still didn’t know where the images in his head would lead him, but there was this feeling in his gut (maybe it was hope, he couldn’t know) that they would lead him to the angel. Still, he didn’t know anything for sure; it was just a hunch, and he had found no other choice than to just go with it.

Crowley didn’t need to know that, though. Still, the demon did seem to know something, and Dean really wanted to know what that was, so he decided to play along for now. “And why would you think that?”

“Because you are currently just a few towns away from where your precious little sick angel ended four of my men two weeks ago. And just because he felt like it, apparently.”

So what, Cas went on a demon killing spree now? That stupid son of a bitch, that was only going to kill him sooner, didn’t he know that? He was suicidal now, too?

“What’s it to you?” Dean asked, because he really couldn’t have Crowley following him to wherever Cas was, if that was truly where he was headed. He wouldn’t let Crowley anywhere near Cas, not with Cas as weak as Dean assumed he was. No matter what Cas had done, no matter how hurt Dean was over the angel pretty much walking out on him, he would never let Crowley hurt the angel, ever.

Crowley seemed to be on the same page as him, because the demon hurried to lift his hands in a mocking sign of surrender. “Oh, no need to go all protective over your angel, Squirrel,” Dean did his best to hold back a wince at the ‘your’, because Cas was most definitely not _his_ angel, “They were actually hiding from me, so I should really thank Castiel for offing them, although I would have liked to be the one doing the offing. Either way, I know there was a fight and that Castiel got hurt, so you should be prepared for that.”

“I don’t get where you’re going with this.” What was Crowley’s point here, exactly? He really wasn’t the one for small chat. And he most definitely did not care about Cas’ well-being as long as it didn’t concern him. What sort of game was Crowley playing here?

Crowley rolled his eyes at that, clearly mocking annoyance, looking at Dean like he was talking to a child. “Honestly, I wasn’t really worried about Castiel until I got here. But now…” The look in Crowley’s eyes changed as his voice lingered, his eyes scanning Dean up and down in a way that had the hunter shifting his weight subconsciously, suddenly uncomfortable under the demon’s calculating gaze. He knew there was a meaning hidden behind those words, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was, “Well, I believe that Castiel might be the only one that can help you right now.”

And now Dean was confused again, a frown taking over his brows, “What?”

“Let’s just say that Moose is right. There is something wrong with you,” Crowley’s eyes were careful, almost measuring as he eyed Dean once more, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips subtly, like he was trying to hold it back a little, but clearly not enough not to let his amusement show, “It’s just not what he thinks it is. Not entirely, at least.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Now, Dean, tell me,” Crowley rounded Dean slowly, and the hunter turned his body around as the demon moved, his steps measured as he followed the Crowley’s movements with careful eyes and tense muscles, hunter instincts kicking in and not allowing him to have his back turned at the demon. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this, several alarms ringing inside his head. “When exactly were you planning on telling your brother that you and Castiel finally went horizontal?”

Dean actually choked on air at those words. Any chances of lying were gone the moment he felt his face heating up to the shade of a tomato and his eyes widening in surprise at the blunt comment. He just couldn’t help it, Crowley caught him completely off guard, and he didn’t have enough time to school his features as he would have liked to do. He must look like the definition of a deer in headlights in that moment, or maybe like a fish, considering his mouth would open and close repeatedly but no sound would come out of it. Either way, he knew lying wouldn’t get him anywhere now.

“Please, don’t be such a prude, Dean,” Crowley shook his head at him, his tone mocking and his eyes pretty much sparkling in delight, “Everyone knew where _that_ was going years ago. You two were the only ones who didn’t get the memo, apparently.”

Swallowing dryly, Dean did his best to ignore that last part, choosing to focus on the part of the conversation he actually thought he could handle right now. This really wasn’t something he wanted to be talking to _Crowley_ about, but he guessed he didn’t exactly have a choice here.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” There was no denying now, he realized that.

Crowley actually smirked at the question, like he thought there was something hilarious about it that Dean couldn’t see. “Let’s just say Castiel might have something… interesting to tell you about that.”

And without another word, the demon was gone.

“Son of a bitch!”

***~*~*~*~***

Zoe’s Haven turned out to be exactly what Dean had expected it to be, which meant that it looked _exactly_ like what he had seen in his head, right down to the faded green color of the building and every single detail of the stained walls outside. He had never been here before in his life, so he had to admit it was a little freaky to stroll into a place he had seen so clearly inside his own head, but he had been dealing with weird his entire life to be too surprised by this. That didn’t mean he was going in unarmed, though. It meant quite the opposite of that

Inside, Dean noticed it was actually a pretty nice place, simple, but in a way that made it almost cozy. The walls on the inside were painted of a light pastel color, countless paintings of wild animals hanging from the walls on every side. In the reception, standing behind the counter, was a pale brunette girl looking through a magazine with a look of complete boredom in her face.

“Excuse me,” Dean said, clearing his throat, going into FBI mode instantly. He was already wearing his suit, his badge already in his hand.

The girl—Cindy, her nametag provided—looked up, her bored expression soon replaced by a startled one as she registered the man standing before her.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a hint of confusion, and maybe a little uneasiness, suddenly clear in her voice. Not the kind that might pass as guilty, but the one of someone caught off guard and not sure how to react. It wasn’t uncommon, so Dean didn’t think too much of it.

“I’m special agent Rogers, FBI,” He showed her the badge, before tucking it back into his suit jacket, “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

Cindy nodded, closing the magazine (Teen something, Dean hadn’t been able to read it clearly before it was gone from sight as the girl all but folded it in her grasp) and putting it away somewhere under the counter, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m working on a case a few towns over. Murder of four, nasty stuff,” Dean explained, having decided to use Cas’ demon murdering spree as his cover up. People tended to be more responsive if they knew exactly what he might be looking for. “You guys get many customers from far or just out of town?” He decided to start slow. If he started asking the weird questions right away, it usually freaked people out, and he had to be careful not to do that too soon.

Cindy frowned slightly at the question, but still answered without much thought, “A few. Not many out of season like now, though.”

“Meaning?” Dean pressed on.

The girl shrugged. “We don’t get many visitors here this time of the year. It’s snowy outside, so it’s not really a good time for camping, but a few still come to rent a cabin up in the mountains.”

“Cabin?” Instantly, the image of the cottage he had seen popped up in his mind. So that cottage and this place _were_ connected… “Were there many rents recently?”

Cindy shook her head, her face looking almost apologetic as she shrugged her shoulders weakly once more. “Not that I could know. You’d have to ask the owner of the cabins, Bryan Olsen. He’s the one who rents them. His office is not too far from here, just a few miles into the dirt road down ahead. It’s a big wooden house, pretty hard to miss.”

Dean nodded, making a mental note of every bit of information he was given, “Thank you, Cindy. I’ll talk to him after this.” He glanced around the room, still going through everything he had heard. He knew maybe it was a shot in the dark, but he still had to try. “Did you, by any chance, see something… out of the ordinary around here? Anything at all?”

Cindy paused at those words, apparently thinking his question through in her head. She bit her lower lip as she thought, like considering her next words with unusual care, which instantly told Dean she knew something.

Bingo.

He waited for her too speak, though, not wanting to go all fed on her just yet, but he would if he needed to.

“Well, there was something, about two weeks ago,” she finally admitted, glancing around the lobby, as if trying to make sure there was no one listening in on their conversation, even though there was no one close enough to hear a word she was saying. There was no one in the room with them to begin with. She still lowered her voice, probably just in case someone walked into the room while she was talking. “This guy, Stuart, he’s one of the people responsible for cleaning up and general maintenance here.”

Dean nodded lightly, leaning closer to hear better and silently urging her to continue.

“Well, he told me that one night when he went outside to throw some trash in the dumpster behind the building, after he walked out the back door, he saw something. He swore he saw this man, completely covered in blood and limping. Stuart says he hid behind the dumpster, thinking the guy was some crazy psycho, and when he looked again, the guy was gone.”

Dean swallowed, remembering the image of himself he had seen in his head, limping and wounded as he approached this very building. He knew it hadn’t been _himself_ in that scene, but it had felt like that had happened to him at the time, like he was reliving a distant, forgotten memory. Of course, he knew that couldn’t have been him, but that meant that he had seen the scene through someone else’s eyes, ( _Cas’_ , his mind provided, although he still wasn’t sure about that), and that, without a doubt, just couldn’t mean anything good. Sure, he had known that memory didn’t belong to him even before getting to this place, but he now had the confirmation that whatever he had seen had _actually_ happened, it had in fact been some sort of vision.

What the hell was going on here?

“Did Stuart say if he saw the man’s face?” Dean asked calmly, just going through the motions he had perfected over the years. He had been doing this his entire life, after all, so it was all pretty much natural to him at this point.

Cindy shook her head lightly, “He said he didn’t really get a good look, because it was too dark, but that he didn’t recognize him. He didn’t go into details, though.”

“And when would I find Stuart here?”

“I think I just saw him arrive, like half an hour ago,” Cindy replied, “I can go fetch him if you want.”

Dean nodded at that, even managing a thankful smile at her as he said, “Yes, that would be good.”

Cindy vanished through the door behind the counter for a few minutes before she was back, a skinny blond guy following her into the lobby. The guy was wearing a uniform, probably the usual clothing anyone who worked at cleaning and maintenance at the place wore. He looked very young, too, probably not even in his mid-twenties yet.

“Stu, this is Agent Rogers, from the FBI,” Cindy hurried to say, gesturing to Dean over the counter, “He wants to talk to you about the guy you saw that night. The one covered in blood.”

Stuart nodded, glancing wearily at Dean, “Alright.”

“Well, Stuart, why don’t you tell me what you saw?” Dean smiled encouragingly at the guy, wordlessly urging him to talk.

The guy swallowed dryly before speaking. “Well, it was dark, so I didn’t get a good look. But I know it was a pretty tall guy, dark hair, wearing this big overcoat,” Dean held his breath at that, swallowing dryly, because that did sound a lot like Cas, and it wasn’t like there were many people out there who dressed anything like the angel. Dean still wasn’t entirely convinced, though. He would need a little more than that. “He was limping, and covered in blood. I didn’t recognize him. Never seen him in my life before.”

Dean nodded, keeping his face calm and unaffected, even while a spark of hope began to bloom in his chest. It had to be Cas. It just had to be. _Please, let it be Cas…_ “What else?” he pressed on, being careful not to let any sort of urgency to slip into his voice.

Stuart shook his head, “Nothing, really. I hid behind the dumpster as soon as I saw him, afraid that it was some psychopath or something. But then I realized he might need help, because he did look hurt, but when I back stood up and stepped out from behind the dumpster, he was gone. I tried looking by the edge of the woods, but there was no sign of him anywhere. He must have gone into the forest.”

Dean nodded tightly at that. If that had really been Cas, why would the angel want to go into the woods? Maybe to go to that cabin Dean had seen in his head? Would Dean even find him there, if he found the cottage?

He should go and ask the Bryan dude about the cabins. He had a feeling he might find the exact same cottage from his visions somewhere in these mountains.

“Alright, that is all I’ll need for now,” he told the pair, nodding at each one of them, “If you see anything else like that, anything weird at all,” He handed each one of them a card with his number on it, “Give me a call, alright?”

The pair took the cards quickly, nodding excitedly at him.

“Thank you for your time.”

It wasn’t hard to find the house Cindy had mentioned, a big, ugly thing made of wood by the edge of the forest with a big sign on the front that said, ‘Cabins available for rental’. It seemed like he found the place.

Bryan was a scrawny, weird guy wearing huge glasses with a creepy office filled with dead animals watching you from every wall. The place gave Dean the chills, though not for any reason a hunter should be worried about. It was just plain creepy, but not something worth a job kind of creepy. He could just swear the eyes were following him as he walked. He hated those things. Why the hell would someone willingly have a dead animal hanging on the wall?

It was freaky.

And weird.

And fucking creepy.

“So, Mr. Olsen,” Dean started as he sat down on the chair placed in front of the desk in the guy's office, having already identified himself as a federal agent. He did his best not to make eye contact with a particularly creepy beaver as he talked, “I’m looking for a guy, and I’ve been told he might have rented one of your cabins.”

Bryan’s eyebrows went half up the guy’s forehead at those words, his skin growing several shades paler. “Oh, well, I keep the records of all the rentals,” It was obvious just how nervous the guy suddenly was, like he thought he might get in trouble if this ‘guy’ Dean was looking for had actually rented a cabin, or at least that was what Dean assumed to be the reason for it, “Do you want to take a look at the records?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Dean smiled at him, the smile he knew should ease him up a little bit. It worked, but just barely.

A big, heavy book was laid out in front of Dean on the desk, and Bryan hurried to begin flipping pages, adjusting his ridiculously enormous glasses on the spot where they rested on the bridge of his nose a few times as his hands worked through the book in quick, jerky motions.

“When would he have rented it?” Bryan asked, going straight to the end of the book, where Dean assumed the information on the most recent rentals were written down.

“Less than a month ago,” Dean replied after a quick moment of thought. At least he assumed Cas had come to this place after Omaha, which had been almost four weeks ago. It didn’t make sense for him to have done it before that. It had been after Omaha that Cas had gone off the radar for both the Winchesters and the angels, or so that was what Dean thought had happened, but he could be wrong.

He had come to realize he might not know Cas as well as he’d once thought he did.

Bryan stopped at a page with a few names written down, pointing to the lower half of the list. “These are the last ones. There were only three rentals in the last four weeks. Business is slow at this time of the year.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Dean muttered, running his eyes over the list. The second name stood out from the others, and Dean had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at it.

_Really, Cas?_

**James Novak. Time of rental: Four weeks. Paid in advance.**

At least it wasn’t hard to identify him. If the angel had used another name, maybe Dean would have to check all three of the rentals, but at least Cas had made that one easy for him. He must still have Jimmy’s documents with him, even after all this time, or maybe he had made new ones at some point. Dean remembered teaching him how to do that a couple of years ago. Either way, using Jimmy identity must have been the easiest thing he could find to do. It was pretty sloppy, which meant Cas had been a little desperate. Anyone who knew his vessel’s name would be able to locate him like this, but maybe he hadn’t had the chance to get another alias, and that couldn’t mean anything good.

“This one,” Dean pointed at Jimmy’s name, “Where is his cabin?”

Bryan was quick to give him directions using the big map hanging on the wall of the office, which had the location of all the cabins there were for rental, and at some point Dean was finally sure he could find the thing. Apparently the cabins were scattered across the fields and mountains around the area, and the one Cas had chosen was one of the hardest to access, much to Dean’s annoyance, but he was confident he wouldn’t have too much trouble finding it. So after assuring the guy that he wasn’t sure if Jimmy was his suspect or not and that even if he was, Bryan was in no trouble at all, Dean drove up the mountain, headed to what Bryan described as one of his most secluded cabins.

It took Dean over an hour to get to the damn thing, having to drive through a clearly unused dirt road and over a thin layer of snow with his poor Baby, but when he finally did find the cabin, he actually cursed under his breath at the sight of it. It was identical to the cottage he had seen in his head, right up to the tree sticking out of the woods to the right and the small pond a little ahead by the back of the house. It was covered in snow, too, just like everything else around it.

The place was actually kind of beautiful. The cabin rested in the center of a small clearing in the woods, hidden from sight until you were actually close enough to spot it through the leaves and branches of the forest around it. It was small, with just one floor, and it was made of wood, a kind darker than the house where Dean had talked to Bryan.

It looked exactly like Dean remembered it from his vision.

The only difference was the car parked out front. It was covered in snow as well, but Dean would recognize that ugly thing anywhere—a beige 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V.

Cas’ car.

Dean stopped the Impala a few feet away from the Pimpmobile, shutting off the engine but not daring to get out of the car. For what felt like an hour, he just sat there staring at the cabin like it might come to life and swallow him whole if he moved.

Cas was in there.

Closing his eyes, Dean let his head hang back against the car seat, his body frozen in place, his muscles refusing to move. A wave of uneasiness washed through his body, gluing him to his seat. It had seemed like something so obvious in his mind before, that he had to come here and figure out what the hell this whole thing with the crazy visions meant. He had been somewhat convinced that if he found the place he had seen in his head, maybe things would begin to make sense at last. But now that he was finally here, staring at the cabin where Cas was supposedly hiding, he wasn’t sure it had been the right thing to do, or the wisest.

Why had he seen this place, anyway? It had felt like a vision, though anything he saw only seemed to appear in his head when he was having some sort of breakdown because of the Mark of Cain. Still, those visions had led him here; had led him to where Cas was. What was he supposed to make of that? What did that even mean?

Dean remembered Crowley’s vague words from earlier, about how Cas might be the only one who could help him now, as well as how the angel probably had something to tell him. Dean could only assume that whatever it was, it had to have something to do with his visions. But should he really have come here? What if Cas didn’t want him here? He had left Omaha without a trace for a reason, so what would his reaction be to Dean just showing up in this place? Why was he here in this cabin, anyway? If Cas had gone through such lengths to hide away from the world, didn’t that mean the angel definitely didn’t want to be bothered? It sure seemed like it in Dean’s head, anyway.

Swallowing, Dean almost started the engine again and turned around, getting the hell out of that town.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He wasn’t a coward, and that was exactly what he would be acting like if he left now. He was a grown-ass man, so he had better start acting like it. Running away wouldn’t fix anything, although Cas seemed to strongly believe otherwise.

Dean had known all along that he would have to face Cas sooner or later, so he might as well do it now, and not when Sam or Charlie were by his side, listening to his every word, words that were meant to be heard by no one other than Cas. Sure, Charlie knew some of what had happened, but she didn’t know everything, and even if she did, the conversation he would most likely have with Cas should not have an audience. He had a chance to do this alone, to actually try and talk to Cas on his own about what happened in Omaha, so he might as well take it. If Cas didn’t want anything to do with him after that then fine, he would leave and not ever bother him again, as painful as that sounded, but he had to at least _try_.

Also, Dean had to at least check on Cas to put his mind at ease somehow. He still hoped Hannah had been wrong to think Cas’ Grace was almost burnt out. And if Hannah wasn’t wrong, what if Cas needed help? Someone to look after him? Dean just couldn’t leave him to die alone out here.

Keeping those thoughts in mind, Dean pulled the key out from the ignition and opened the door. Once he was standing beside the Impala, he eyed his surroundings with attention. The clearing seemed oddly quiet, the silence around the cabin almost unsettling, and if it wasn’t for the horrendous car parked on the front, he wouldn’t be able to tell there was anyone in there at all. The sound of the Impala’s door being slammed shut was too loud in his ears, disrupting the almost eerie peace of the place. But Dean knew the silence didn’t mean anything.

Briefly, he wondered if Cas knew he was out here. He probably did.

With a wave of determination he wasn’t sure he had washing over his insides, Dean marched over to the front door, taking in a deep breath before knocking on the aged and faded wooden surface. He waited, but the door didn’t open; he didn’t even hear a sound coming from inside. He tried again a few seconds later, but got the same result from before.

Maybe Cas really didn’t want to see him? But couldn’t he at least say that to Dean’s face? This was already getting childish, Dean realized with annoyance.

“Cas? You in there?” Dean tried, calling through the door and growing silent as he waited for a response, even holding his breath in fear that he might not hear Cas’ voice because of it. Nothing. “Come on, Cas. I…” He swallowed drily, hating how his voice gradually lost its force and bordered into a struggled whisper, though he knew Cas would be able to hear it anyway. “We need to talk. Please.”

For the longest time, Dean just stood there, waiting to hear a sign, _anything_ that told him Cas was in there listening. The silence was so intense around him he could hear a few birds chirping in the distance. He even saw a small fox run into the bushes by the side of the house, hurrying to hide from sight as soon as it seemed to realize he spotted it. But he heard absolutely nothing coming from inside the house, not even a single hint of what Cas wanted from him.

Maybe he should have taken it as a sign that Cas didn’t want to talk, but somehow, he knew that wasn’t it. He should have heard some sort of sign that told him the angel was in there. There should be at least something, but the dead silence that surrounded the house… Something was wrong about it. This wasn’t like Cas, just hiding away and pretending not to be there, even if the angel didn’t want to talk. He didn’t know how or why he knew it, but he just could feel that there was something wrong. Somehow, he knew.

Hannah’s words about Cas’ current state echoed inside his head once more, and that was all it took for Dean to lower his body to pick the lock, although he was seconds away from just kicking the thing open. He would do it if he had to. He had to get in there, no matter how. He had to check and see if he was right about Cas’ condition, because if he was…

The lock was pretty easy to pick, old and rusty thing that it was, and in no time at all Dean was already pushing the door open and stepping inside.

The moment he was inside, he felt like his breath had just been punched out of him. It felt like going through a wall at first, like a bubble or some sort of freaky force field that resisted against his movements as he walked, but the invisible barrier had given out under his effort soon enough and he was suddenly inside, gasping for breath as he found his lungs struggling to pull in enough air. He was dizzy and his balance was completely gone, the room spinning all around him, so he leaned against the wall beside the door, closing his eyes and just wishing for it all to go away.

It did, eventually.

Like a curtain being lifted, everything went away at once—the ache he had been feeling in his chest for days now, the dizziness, the struggle to breathe. He was left supporting himself on the wall with no need actual to, blinking and trying to understand what exactly had just happened. As he stood up straight, he noticed that he felt… lighter, somehow. It was easier to breathe and stand than it had been in ages, maybe even better than it had _before_ having the Mark. He hadn’t felt this clear headed in _ages_ , and it was so overwhelming he had to take a moment to process the change.

There was something else, too. He could feel the tingling feeling again, the same one he had felt when he’d woken up back in Omaha, but it was different this time. It was pretty similar, but it wasn’t quite the same, he couldn’t explain it. It felt like there was a constant electric current running through his skin, but it wasn’t painful, just weird, like a never ending buzz of some sort that seemed to echo through his entire body.

When he felt like he could finally stand without tumbling over, Dean finally allowed his eyes to wander, only to find that the inside of the cabin, too, looked exactly like what he had been expecting it to.

The walls were covered in symbols—that was the first thing he noticed. He could recognize some of them as Enochian, but he wasn’t sure about most of them. He remembered seeing the majority of them in his mind when had had seen this room in his head, though he wasn’t sure what they meant or why they were painted on the walls in the first place.

The second thing that caught his attention was the fact that there were several ancient looking books scattered around the room, open in several pages covered in many symbols and weird texts Dean knew maybe not even Sam might be able to decipher.

The third thing he noticed was the bowl in the coffee table, which he hadn’t seen before in his head. It still had ingredients from what Dean assumed to have been a spell inside of it. It looked old, with several different intricate symbols meticulously carved on the outside of it. Beside it, laid an Angel Blade stained with dried blood.

And the fourth thing was the pile of rumpled clothing on the floor by the table, covered by a dark, beige trench coat stained in blood.

“Cas.”

Dean was kneeling beside the angel before he could even think about it, turning him over and finding that Cas was in fact unconscious. So he hadn’t even heard Dean knocking or talking through the door. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved; all he knew was that he didn’t, not really. He would rather have found Cas well in here, conscious and not passed out on the floor.

There was a cut on the angel’s arm. The sleeves of his coat, suit jacket and shirt were rolled up all the way to the Cas’ elbow, allowing Dean to see the slice clearly. It wasn’t too big, but it was obviously deep and still very much open, the edges of the torn skin around it covered in a thin layer of dry blood, which explained where the blood on the sword had come from. Cas must have used his blood for whatever spell he had cooked up. The wound looked like it hadn’t healed at all, and that was definitely not a good sign.

The angel’s coat wasn’t the only thing covered in blood. His suit jacket and white dress shirt were stained with it, too. It seemed Cas had gotten in one hell of a fight with those demons and hadn’t even bothered to clean up after it. Or maybe he had been too weak to do it, Dean realized with a sick feeling in his gut.

After checking to make sure Cas was breathing (just barely, but he still was, and for that Dean was extremely grateful, letting out a relieved breath that seemed to lift a few hundred pounds off his chest), Dean managed to pick the angel up bridal style, lifting him up from the carpet as carefully as he could, which allowed the hunter to see a dark stain of blood where Cas’ head had previously laid on the living room carpet, as well as the trail of blood connecting the right corner of the angel’s mouth to the side of his head. Dean wasn’t sure what Cas had been doing in here, but whatever it was, it had exhausted him so much he had passed out. It made Dean angry to realize just how reckless Cas was being lately. From healing Sam to getting in a fight against four demons and doing some spell that had him lose consciousness, considering the angel’s quickly fading Grace, it almost looked like Cas _wanted_ to die.

Dean pushed that thought away as soon as it came.

The cabin was small, so it wasn’t surprising to find out it only had one bedroom. Everything about it just spelled solitude, really, and Dean wondered why anyone normal would rent this place, hours away from any civilization. He just hoped it had electricity and water. This place was already enough of a hermit’s heaven as it was.

Grunting a little, Dean managed to get Cas down onto the bed. It was unmade, the covers tossed carelessly to the side, which meant Cas had indeed used it at some point. So he was back to sleeping now. That wasn’t good; not at all. That meant he really was in worse shape than Dean had originally thought. Damn it, why hadn’t Cas said anything? Why hadn’t Cas sent some other angel to heal Sam? Why had he felt like it was a good idea to just hide in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and cast a spell that almost killed him?

The angel looked pale, Dean noted, with dark bags under his eyes. His breathing was a lot shallower than Dean would be comfortable with. He didn’t exactly have a fever, though, so maybe that was already something, but he _was_ a little too warm, although maybe it wasn’t enough to actually mean something, especially not to an angel. At least Dean wanted to believe it wasn’t, or else he might actually lose it.

Dean didn’t make a move to unclothe the angel this time, even if his clothes were covered in blood. He remembered very vividly what that had led to last time, and he would rather not test his luck by doing it again. Cas might take it the wrong way, and that was the last thing Dean needed right now.

At least the blood covering the angel's clothes was completely dry, so it wouldn’t stain the sheets.

He slipped out of the room a moment later, walking out of the cabin for just a minute to go fetch the first-aid kit he kept in the Impala’s trunk. He noticed the tingling feeling all but faded once he walked outside, while the heaviness in his chest and head came back the moment he stepped out the front door. The Mark instantly flared up in his arm, too, and it was just then that Dean realized it had been almost numb inside the cabin, muted even.

And when he walked inside, everything faded once again.

It all made him frown in confusion, but he didn’t dwell too much on it. He had other things to worry about right now, although the doubts loomed over his head constantly, nagging at his thoughts in the back of his mind. What exactly did all of that meant? Why was any of it happening? Dean had no idea, but something told him the sigils must have something to do with it.

He was back in the bedroom not three minutes after he’d left, sitting down onto the edge of the bed beside Cas and peeking inside the kit, looking for everything he would need to take care of that ugly cut on the angel’s arm.

He cleaned the cut as best as he could with antiseptic, wincing at just how deep it actually was. It wouldn’t need stitches, though, so that was good. He bandaged it when he was done, wrapping a section of Cas’ forearm in clean white gauze to keep the wound covered and avoid an infection. If Cas hadn’t had the juice to heal just simple a cut, Dean didn’t even want to think about what would happen if the cut got infected.

When he was done with the cut, he grabbed ball of cotton from the kit and walked over to the bathroom. Just as he’d imagined it, there were no towels in there, so he damped the cotton in the sink (they had water, what a miracle) and walked back into the bedroom.

With the cotton ball, Dean cleaned the trail of blood on Cas’ face, rubbing the soft material gently over the angel’s skin.

When he was done with that, he gathered everything he’d used and disposed of it in the small trashcan inside the bathroom, before going back into the bedroom and putting the first-aid kit away under the bed, in case he needed it again.

As Dean stood up straight again, he wasn’t sure what he should be feeling as he stared down at Cas’ unmoving form, looming over the angel by the side of the bed. Maybe he should feel uncomfortable or something, considering what had happened the last time he and Cas had been in the same room together, or because of what had happened after that, but he felt nothing close to that. All he felt in that moment was worry, as well as desire for Cas to get better. But overall, he felt helpless. What else was there for him to do? Taking care of a cut and cleaning the blood off the angel’s skin was nothing compared to the care Cas really needed right now, but what else could Dean help with? He doubted there was much more he could do now other than make sure Cas was comfortable and wait, hoping with everything he had that the angel would get better and wake up soon.

Cas just looked so _small_ in that bed, so weak and tired, and the image all that created was just too wrong. Dean remembered the Castiel he’d met back in that barn in Pontiac, Illinois, all those years ago, that strong and fierce soldier of Heaven, the one that had the entire place shaking just at the sound of his voice, the wind whipping against the walls, lightning and thunder striking outside at his will. Comparing that memory with the Castiel Dean saw now, it was almost impossible to believe the change. Not that Dean missed the mindless bastard Cas had been back then, but he did find it hard not to long for the way Cas had seemed to powerful at the time, when there had been no fear of the angel dying at any second.

Letting out a tired sigh, Dean walked away from the bed and toward the door of the room, deciding he might as well make himself useful in the house. He just had to do something to keep his mind busy, before he lost his mind.

Even though he had never seen most of the symbols that covered the walls before in his life, Dean still felt the need to make sure everything was in place. He knew some were there as warding, but the rest was still a mystery to him. Either way, Cas must have put those all over the walls for a reason.

There wasn’t much to do with the symbols, they were all pretty much intact, so he just used the open can of white paint and brush he’d found in the corner of the living room (which he assumed to be the one Cas had used to paint the symbols in the first place) to perfect a few of the symbols he knew. When he was done with that, he picked up the books and organized them in a few small piles on the coffee table, leaving them all beside the now clean bowl. He cleaned the sword, too, placing it under the bed in the bedroom when he was done. There was an empty vial on the floor stained in red inside, which had probably contained blood at some point. Dean assumed Cas must have also used on the ritual. He left it on the coffee table, too, unsure about what to do with it.

Tracking any sort of cleaning products in the house was useless, as he soon found out, so there was no getting rid of the blood stain on the carpet for now. Food was also out. Mumbling to himself, Dean realized that Cas needed a run to a store, badly. Checking the time, he found it was mid-afternoon, so maybe he could buy a few things before it got dark. He would probably have to drive back here in the dark, though, but he was pretty sure he could manage that without too much problem.

Dean had entertained the idea of moving Cas out of this cabin for just a moment, but something told him he shouldn’t. Cas must have had a reason to hide out in here, the symbols on the walls were enough evidence of that, so Dean decided that for the time being, Cas would stay in the cabin. It just seemed like the safest place for Cas right now.

But because he just couldn’t leave the cabin without checking on Cas one more time, Dean still walked back into the bedroom and made sure the angel was still breathing and hadn’t gotten any warmer before he actually found it in himself to leave the place, and even after that he still lingered a little by the front door, hating to just abandon Cas like that. He might need help at some point, so what if Dean wasn’t here when he did?

Shaking his head, Dean told himself that while Cas needed looking after, he also might need food, or else his body might start to shut down quicker. If he was sleeping now, then he should be eating too. And Dean himself was starting to feel hungry, so what other choice did he have? He couldn’t just let them both starve to death out here.

The drive to town seemed a lot longer than he remembered, but he still made it to Absarokee before sunset. He called Bryan back at the renting office as he drove into town and finally got signal for his phone, wanting to assure the awkward man that ‘Novak’ was not his guy, but that he could help with the investigation. Dean also mentioned that he would most likely be sticking around for a few days to work on the case, but that the man shouldn’t be worried. Bryan sounded relieved.

Absarokee was a pretty small town, so it wasn’t hard for Dean to find a small convenience store. The place was pretty empty, with only two people inside, one of them being the cashier. Dean got a few weird looks from both of them, and it was just after being in the store for over a minute that he realized he was still wearing the fed suit. Damn it, he hadn’t even thought about changing out of those clothes; he had been in such a hurry and so worried about Cas that it hadn’t even crossed his mind until now. Well, at least he had told Bryan that he would be sticking around for a few days; that should cover the weird questions his little shopping trip might raise around here.

He got around the store quickly enough, picking up enough food to last for a few days, some cleaning materials and a few other supplies he might need. And pie, of course. He couldn’t leave that place without pie.

He strayed clear of the alcohol section, though. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to control himself if he looked at a bottle of Bourbon right now. He had been itching for a drink for _days_ now (the last time he’d had a drink had been back in Omaha, and that had ended _so_ well), but he knew he had to be stronger than that. Sam himself had said that Dean had to try and be strong, to resist any temptations the Mark might present to drive him off the edge of self-control, and he would try to do just that. Alcohol numbed everything, yes, but Dean noted it also loosened his own grip on himself, and maybe the risk of it wasn’t worth it in the end.

As he walked through the various isles of the store, he felt an uneasiness settling in his gut, growing so intense that soon he found his mind going back to Cas every few seconds, wondering if the angel had woken up and dreading the thought that he might have gotten worse while Dean was gone. Dean was very much aware of the current distance between himself and the cabin, and that only made Dean feel so much worse, various terrible and unwelcome scenarios running through his head.

When he spotted the freezer, Dean could not help but grab a few packages of ice, as well as an ice chest to leave it in so it wouldn’t melt on the way back to the cabin. Cas hadn’t had a fever the last time Dean had checked, but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared for anything.

Those thoughts made him walk quicker through the store, as well as silently curse the cashier for taking her sweet-ass time checking him out.

Before he was out of town, he spotted a drugstore, so he made a quick stop to get a few more supplies he might need, just in case Cas got worse. He hoped to never use any of them, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He just wanted to be prepared for whatever might happen with Cas, considering the distance from the cabin to town was ridiculously big, and that long drive might end up costing Cas his life if Dean wasn’t ready for everything.

The drive back to the cabin was a struggle, much more than he had expected it to be. It took very close to an hour for him get back to the cabin, but only because he kind of put a strain on Baby and stepped down on the gas, eager to get back to the small clearing as soon as he could and already regretting his idea of leaving in the first place. He had a feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn’t explain it. He just _knew_.

The sun had already set as he drove up to the small house and parked the Impala beside the Lincoln, shutting off the engine and sending everything around him into darkness as Baby’s headlights were turned off. He almost jumped out of the car, carrying the ice chest and two bags of groceries in his arms at once. He really didn’t want to come back for the rest later on, but he had no other choice but to leave some things in the car, since it was too much for him to carry inside at once.

It was cold outside, his nose stung and he was actually shivering a little bit by the time he finally reached the cabin's front door because he was still wearing the stupid suit. He had a feeling that the weather would only get worse the later it got; maybe it would even snow during the night.

As soon as he walked inside the house, Dean flicked on the light switch and was glad to see the lights in the living room come to life (so they had power here too; awesome). He dumped the brown paper bags and ice chest he was carrying on the couch and pretty much made a run for the hallway that led even deeper into the cabin, darting into the bedroom where he had left Cas earlier.

Cas was still unconscious, but he had moved a little. He was on his side now, his front turned in the direction of the door, and he was shivering. A _lot_.

Dean hurried over to the bed, resting a hand on the angel’s forehead. It was warm, _too_ warm, clearly a pretty bad fever starting to kick in. Damn it.

The hunter exited the room, returning with the thermometer he had bought at the drugstore and a damp lukewarm washcloth, positioning the thermometer under Cas’ armpit and the washcloth onto the angel’s forehead and hoping that would be enough to cool him down a little, or at least make him feel a little better. Cas shifted at the feeling of it, but didn’t wake, which definitely wasn’t a good sign. Or maybe it was. Dean wasn’t sure how to define that anymore, to be honest, he was just doing what felt right at this point. It wasn’t like there was a handbook he could get on how to care for sick angels with fading borrowed Grace.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dean watched Cas for a moment in silence, his chest tightening with worry as he waited for the thermometer to be done. This was his fault. If he hadn’t called Cas and asked him to heal Sam back in Omaha, the angel wouldn’t be here, dying as what little remained of his Grace burned out. Dean shouldn’t have asked for his help when he knew it would kill him. He should have found another way.

The thermometer beeped a moment later, and when Dean it pulled out, he cursed lowly under his breath at the number that greeted him on the tiny digital screen.

101.8°F.

This really was a bad fever starting to kick in.

“Damn it.”

Was this too high for an angel? Dean hoped not, but it still made him worry. What if the fever didn’t go down? Dean was pretty sure medicine would have no effect on Cas, so what would?

“Don’t you dare die on me, you hear me? Don’t you fucking dare,” His voice broke at the last word, his voice trembling against his best efforts to fight it. He rested a slightly shaky hand on the angel’s pale cheek, feeling the stubble scratching the skin of his palms under the touch. Moving his thumb a little, he caressed the angel’s face, wishing with everything he had that he would wake up, that Dean would get the chance to speak with him at least one last time.

It was a painful thought, but he knew it was most likely the truth. Hannah herself had said she didn’t think Cas had much more time, and now, looking at the angel with his own eyes, Dean realized with a jolt of pain similar to what a stab to the heart must feel like that she must be right. Cas didn’t look good at all.

He could feel his eyes beginning to sting, but he held any tears that threatened to fall back. He couldn’t allow himself to break, not right now, not when Cas still needed him. There might still be a way to fix this. There was always a way. There _had_ to be a way…

The room was already starting to feel suffocating, even if it wasn’t really small, so Dean left the thermometer on the nightstand and walked back out into the living room, craving to do something before he completely lost it. He just needed to occupy his mind for a while, to force his pained thoughts away from the imminent death of the angel who had basically turned his whole world upside down.

Dean put everything edible he had brought into the house away in the kitchen, filling up the previously empty cabinets and firing up the refrigerator, happy to realize that while the thing was old and rusty, it still worked, so he hurried to stock the packages of ice in the freezer as soon as it was up and running.

What hadn’t made him too happy was that he had to make a run to the Impala to get his duffel and the rest of the groceries, which hadn’t taken over two minutes, but he was already shaking and his teeth were clattering against each other by the time he got back inside.

Another relief was finding out that the cabin actually had a freaking heating system that worked, though it was very noisy. It wasn’t like it would wake Cas up, though, (actually, if it did, Dean would actually be very grateful for it) so Dean hurried to fire it up, because he was pretty sure the temperature would take a nose dive pretty soon. It was already relatively colder inside the house than it had been before, so he knew they were in for a pretty freezing night.

He shed his clothes in the living room when the cabin felt warm enough for it, for some reason feeling too uncomfortable to change in the bedroom. He knew it was silly (Cas had obviously seen him naked before, for crying out loud), but it just didn’t feel right to do it there, especially not with the angel unconscious and unaware of what was happening around him. Dean still had way too many doubts lingering in his head about where exactly they stood now to be comfortable enough for that. Or maybe he was just being paranoid, he couldn’t know.

When he was finally wearing his usual clothes (an old flannel, a pair of worn, faded jeans and heavy boots around his feet), Dean got the cleaning materials out of the shopping bags, deciding it was time to get to work.

The blood stain was a bitch to get out of the carpet, but Dean was insistent. He couldn’t just leave it there. That one would be very hard to explain to Bryan or anyone else who rented this place after Cas. Dean poured all the bottled up anger he was feeling at the situation into his movements as he scrubbed the fabric under his hands, using so much strength in the task the carpet might as well have personally offended him to deserve such a treatment.

When there was no trace of blood in sight on the floor, he went to check on Cas, finding the angel in the exact same situation he had left him earlier. With his heart clenching painfully with worry, Dean exchanged the now warmed up cloth by a clean, room temperature one. Cas felt warmer than he had before, and that only made Dean even more agitated. Worry sat heavy like a stone in his stomach.

The only relief was that the Mark had finally decided to give Dean a break. It was still there, he could feel its presence in his arm, grumbling to itself and overall just angry with everything, pulsating with hatred and whispering things Dean couldn’t entirely understand, but the feeling was dulled, distant, like there was barrier between its toxic influence and Dean’s conscience, which the hunter was very thankful for. Small miracles and all that.

With nothing better to do and mostly because of his angrily groaning stomach, Dean decided that getting busy in the kitchen may do him some good, maybe even calm him down a little. It was very unlikely, but it was worth a shot. Anything to keep him from going mad in this cabin, which he could tell wouldn’t take long at this rate.

He didn’t overdo, just cooked up some burgers; two, actually, one for himself and an extra just in case (more in hope, really) that Cas would wake up and might be hungry. He got some buns out and organized two little piles of buns, burgers and heated up cheese. He even added some tomatoes and lettuce in the end, remembering Sam’s words for a few weeks ago about how Dean should take better care of himself if he wanted to overpower the Mark. Dean could barely eat his own burger, though, even if he could usually take on two in one sitting. His hunger dissipated soon, vanishing after just a few bites, and Dean wasn’t even halfway done with his burger when he began to feel like he might throw up if he ate much more, the unusual nausea kicking in once more.

At least he managed to keep the thing down after he was done eating, so that was a plus. He even managed to eat a slice of pie a few minutes later, which made him feel a little better, if only just barely.

Dean washed everything he had used to make the food and dried it, putting it all back where he had first placed them after returning from town. When he was done, he walked back out into the living room, just lingering on the same spot for a second as he tried to decide what to do.

There was nothing else he could do now but check on Cas again, so he decided to do that before trying to catch a few hours of sleep. He was actually exhausted, he could feel every single bone and muscle aching in his body with every move he made, protesting against the strain as his exhaustion started to make itself known, but he forced his body to respond as he walked into Cas’ room for the fourth time that day.

The angel hadn’t improved or gotten worse, which made Dean feel a mixture of worry and relief washing over him. Cas wasn’t getting better, but he wasn’t getting worse either, and that was good, right?

He changed the damp cloth once more, as well as exchanged the bandage on Cas’ arm for a clean one, before walking back out to the living room. The couch wasn’t a pull-out, so the cushions would obviously be a tight fit for Dean, but he knew he could manage. He couldn’t bring himself to even consider sleeping in the bed with Cas, even if the mattress was easily big enough for the two of them. He knew he would feel better if he spent the night close to the angel to keep an eye on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt _wrong_ , somehow, because what if Cas woke up and thought wrongly of it? What if Cas didn’t even want him in this cabin, let alone sharing a bed with him? Dean couldn’t know what Cas wanted, and he would rather not cross any boundaries the angel might wish to keep up between them.

Falling asleep was a nearly impossible task. The couch was by no means comfortable, lumpy even, and he wasn’t a young buck anymore, he knew he would feel it in the morning, but it was either that or sleeping on the floor. At least the cabin was warm now, so much he only needed a thin spare blanket he'd found in the bedroom closet to keep warm through the night.

For hours, he tossed and turned on the hard cushions, struggling and failing to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. His mind was still racing, so that didn’t help, constantly reminding him that Cas was still knocked out and sick, no matter how many times he told himself that he wouldn’t be able to take care of the angel if he was suffering from sleep deprivation himself. Still, he went to check on Cas two more times before he finally succeeded in settling into a restless sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean was back in Randy’s house, panting and kneeling in the center of a true murder scene. He could feel the trail of blood that had slid down his forehead, just as he was very much aware of just how tightly he was holding on to the knife, so much he knew his knuckles wound be visibly white, had they not been covered in fresh crimson blood. His mind was numb, failing to register what exactly had happened here. He couldn’t process anything over the sound of the Mark chanting, congratulating him, it seemed. It was content, happy that he had just killed a room full of people, by no means innocent people, but helpless humans nonetheless. That’s what it had wanted all along—for him to become a monster, a murderer, to completely lose his humanity, as he had once before. It was happening, he knew that; gradually, sure, but it was happening again. He was slowly becoming a demon again. He could almost feel it, the darkness taking over his insides, growing stronger every day as it carefully made its claim.

Memories from his time as a demon flashed through his mind. Most of them were blurry, but others were clear as crystal in his head, playing before his eyes so vividly he might as well be living that terror again.

Drinking every day, hanging out with Crowley, hooking up with as many people he could find, not even bothering to be discreet if his intended target was a male instead of a female, because he just didn’t _care_ as a demon. He could take what he wanted and do what he wanted and whoever got in his way was easy to get rid of.

He remembered Crowley trying to tell him what to do, just as he remembered pushing the King of Hell to the floor and all but threatening him without a hint of hesitation or fear. He remembered killing Lester, too, just as he remembered beating up Cole Trenton to a pulp and then letting the guy go, just so he would suffer with the knowledge that he had been able to do nothing against the monster that had killed his father. The symmetry of that had been too precious for Dean to ignore it, and he had loved it at the time, found it amusing, brilliantly so.

And then Sam there, standing before him in the Bunker's dungeon, and he was sitting in a chair right in the center of a Devil’s Trap, with his brother trying to cure him. And the things he said that day…

He was walking through the hallways of the Bunker a moment later, looking for Sam with a hammer tightly clasped in his hand, ready to swing at any second. He imagined it, the moment he would get to smash that hammer into Sam’s head, feel the moment when his brother’s skull would give in and break under the powerful hit. Dean had almost been able to feel the blood splattering against his skin at the single thought of it, and to him, in that moment the image of it had been so disgustingly satisfying that it made Dean want to throw up just from remembering it. Because demon-him found joy in the idea of killing his own brother, his own flash and blood, his _family…_

Suddenly he wasn’t in the Bunker anymore, but in a place he didn’t recognize; had never seen anything like it before. It looked like a field of some sort, and he was standing in the middle of it, the clear, cloudless sky watching him from high above. The scene would be beautiful with the bright blue sky above his head and the startling green grass under his feet, it truly would, probably worth of a painting even, if it wasn’t for what he saw when he lowered his gaze.

At his feet, he could see angels. Hundreds, maybe thousands of angels lying motionless on the grass, with scorch marks shaped like wings burned to the ground beside each and every single one of them. He had done that, he knew it, and the guilt from his actions threatened to swallow him whole.

The scene shifted again, this time taking him to a small room decorated in red, blue and white. Suited people walked around, all business-like looking, while a woman whose face starred in most posters inside the place walked around with a phone attached to her ear. He watched himself walking into the place, and it took only a second for the image to change, turning once more into a bloody scene, with all people in sight dead, lying in pools of their own blood. He had done that. He was the cause of all that suffering.

He saw Sam too, lying in a bed in the psychiatric ward of a hospital, when his brother had been struggling with the effects of the crumbled wall in his mind. He had done that too. He had broken Sam’s wall, the one thing protecting him from all the terrible memories of his time in Hell. He was the one to blame for that.

And suddenly he was seeing himself, running and panting with an Angel Blade clutched tightly in his hand. He wasn’t watching the scene _as_ himself, however, but as something following himself through a place he didn’t recognize, a darkened hallway, it seemed.

He was lying on the floor now, begging for his life, his eyes wide and frantic as he looked up at his attacker.

_“No, Cas, please don’t. No!”_

And then there was an Angel Blade being plunged into his chest and he was dead, just a motionless body lying on the floor by his own feet. The place lit up a moment later, allowing him to see what he assumed to be hundreds of copies of himself, all dead, some apparently having been killed more violently than others, most of them lying each in a big pond of dark, crimson blood.

Once more, the scene changed, this time taking him to the crypt where almost two years ago they’d found the Angel Tablet. Yet again, there he was, right before his own eyes, kneeling on the floor as he took punch after punch to his face, the blade he was holding slicing through his other self’s face, cutting the skin and ripping it open, causing blood to flow out of his wounds and down his face. His left eye was closed, hurt and huge from taking so many blows.

_“Cas, please… We’re family…”_

His words were struggled, pained even. It hurt for him to speak, but he needed to get the words out. He needed to say them, to get through the angel.

_“We need you…”_

The three words had been there, at the tip of his tongue, Dean remembered it clearly. But he hadn’t found it in himself to say them out loud. He just couldn’t do it. He settled for something else instead, something that wasn’t the entire truth, but that was as close as he would get to what he had actually wished to say.

_“I need you.”_

And then the angels were falling and he was watching it all from a field as the sky lit up with small, shiny spots of life. He watched motionless, frozen in place as each angel was cast out of Heaven and Fell to Earth. He had done this. He had trusted Metatron. This was his fault.

He was the one to blame for all of it.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean sat up, gasping for air.

He was disoriented at first, not sure where he was or even _who_ exactly he was. All he knew was that he was covered in a thin layer of sweat and his lungs ached, struggling to pull in enough air. His body felt warm, making him uncomfortable as his entire body was filled with pure discomfort. He looked around, registering the room around him but not entirely recognizing it. It had wooden walls, he could tell that much, which were covered in symbols. It was dark, too, and through the window he could see forest. A cabin, then. But why…

Oh, right.

The previous day came rushing into his mind a moment later, washing away his momentary confusion and calming his racing thoughts enough for his breathing to slow down.

His head was still spinning, however. He had been having nightmares regularly now, but they had never been like this, so _vivid_ , and so clearly not entirely _his_. He was reliving memories, he realized that easily enough, but some weren’t his own memories. But whose…

_Cas._

With a jolt, Dean was up, making a run to the hallway, though having trouble to keep his balance as his socked feet slid over the polished floor of the hallway, which wasn’t carpeted as the living room was. He managed to get there in record time still, barging into the room just a second later, his eyes wide with worry as his gaze fell onto the bed as soon as he walked through the doorway.

Cas was panting. His skin gleamed under the moonlight slipping into the darkened room through the window, making it obvious he was sweating. He was also mumbling, his body thrashing on the bed as his head moved frantically from one side to the other on the pillow. He was wheezing, too, clearly having trouble to breathe.

All it took for Dean was a touch to the angel’s forehead to realize what was going on.

Cas’ skin was _burning up_.

His fever must have skyrocketed at some point, getting so high the angel had grown delirious with it.

Dean wasn’t sure just how high an angel’s temperature could get to be harmful, but he knew this couldn’t be good, especially not when Cas was so weak. This was clearly doing something bad to him, so Dean had to get his temperature down, _now_.

He still pushed the thermometer under the angel’s armpit, but ran out of the room only a second later, feeling _so fucking glad_ he had bought all those bags of ice as he got them out of the freezer and ran back into the bedroom heading straight to the bathroom. He hadn’t thought he would need the ice (he had so strongly hoped he wouldn't), but he actually felt like going back in time just to give his past self a bear hug for thinking about this beforehand. Then again, the time Sam’s temperature had skyrocketed during the Trials had been pretty terrifying, and the memory of it had instantly entered his mind the moment he realized Cas had a fever, so he had been bound to feel the need to be prepared for something like this. Also, there was no way Cas would last the almost three hours it might have taken Dean to go back to Absarokee and return to the cabin with some ice. He was pretty sure the store wouldn’t even be _open_ at this time; the sun wasn’t even up yet.

He must have let out the biggest sigh of relief of his entire life when he found an old looking bathtub in the bathroom, since he hadn't paid enough attention to notice it the last time he'd been in here. He turned on both faucets and left them running, cursing at just how fucking slow the tub was filling up. Not patient enough to wait for it to fill up completely, it was only a moment later when the hunter was tearing five freaking ice packages open and spilling it all into the tub.

He left the water running as he raced back into the bedroom, where Cas seemed to have gotten even worse. His mumbling was more frantic now, and it was still incoherent (maybe even more so), the words just leaving his mouth like a waterfall. Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t even speaking English. By the guttural sounds frantically tearing out the angel’s throat and through his lips, Dean guessed it must be Enochian.

The thermometer read 108.2°F.

“Son of a bitch.”

If he had felt any restrains when even considering unclothing Cas before, that was completely gone now. The highest priority in his mind was saving Cas, so Dean didn’t even allow a single thought to slip into his mind as he took off all of Cas' clothes before picking the angel up into his arms and carrying him to the bathroom, where he hoped the tub was already full.

It wasn’t, but there was enough icy water in it to cover Cas’ body, so that would have to do. Carefully, he lowered the angel’s body into the water, hissing lowly at the feeling of the burn from the cool water as his arms were covered by it, but ignoring it completely as he made sure Cas’ body was submerged while being careful to leave the angel’s left arm (where the gauze still was, which had to stay dry) and head out of the water. He was already having trouble with breathing as it was; no need to add almost drowning to the mix.

And for the longest time, Dean waited.

He got the hand that wasn’t holding the angel’s arm above the surface into the water from time to time, rubbing some of the cold liquid against Cas’ forehead and dropping a few handfuls over the top of his head, doing everything he could to try and lower the fever. He did that so many times his fingers were numb in no time, but that didn’t stop him.

At first, Dean thought it wasn’t working. Every time he touched the angel’s skin, he still felt it burning in a way that would probably have killed a human already. But Cas wasn’t human, Dean kept repeating to himself, so that must help, right? It had to. It just did.

Eventually, he felt the change. Cas’ temperature fell pretty much exponentially. It was only a few minutes after Dean had put him in the tub that he had to get the angel out, before his temperature dropped too much.

Dean hissed once more at the coldness of the water as he moved his hand under the surface to pull out the plug keeping the water in so the tub would grow empty, the sound escaping his mouth through his gritted teeth. In the meanwhile, he quickly walked back out into the living room and fetched one of the towels he had bought in town. When he was back, the tub was half-empty, so while the rest of the water went down the drain Dean began to dry off Cas’ hair, head and shoulders. When the tub was empty he could work more easily, getting Cas entirely dry pretty quickly.

Dropping the towel onto the edge of the bathtub (he could worry about that later, honestly), he dove his arms into the tub, snaking them under Cas’ body and lifting the angel as gently as he could, careful not to jolt him too much. When he stood up straight again, he held the angel close to his chest, resting his chin on the top of Cas’ slightly dampened hair as he walked back to the bedroom.

It was a relief to notice how Cas’ body temperature seemed to have gone down quite a lot, but Dean could only hope it wouldn’t go back up after this. At least Cas wasn’t sweating or mumbling anymore, so Dean would take that as a good sign. He would seriously take anything he could get at this point.

Just to ease his mind, he still measured Cas’ temperature once more, receiving a result of 98.4°F with relief.

The clothes Cas had been wearing were soaked with sweat, except for the coat and suit jacket, but those were still badly stained with blood, so Dean realized he would have to either leave Cas naked or find the angel something else to wear. Maybe Dean could find something in his duffel that might fit Cas’ smaller body. Fortunately they weren’t _too_ different in size.

With Cas tucked into bed (though still unclothed), Dean walked to the living room yet again and made a beeline for the couch, next to which his duffel still lay on the floor. He hurried to open it, going through the few items of clothing he saw in there until he found a shirt that was a little too tight on him and a pair of sweats he pretty much never wore, but carried around in case he ever needed them.

Once back in the bedroom, Dean dressed Cas in the shirt and pants, noting just how weird it was to see Cas wearing something that wasn’t a suit and a trench coat. It sent his mind back to when Cas had been human and Dean had kicked him out of the Bunker, which certainly didn’t make him feel any better.

He also changed the gauze around the angel’s cut, grimacing when he realized it hadn’t healed at all; it looked exactly like it had before, when Dean had first seen it. That also didn’t make Dean feel any better.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed when he was done changing the gauze, making sure Cas was comfortable and that the fever was truly gone and didn’t seem to be coming back. He honestly couldn’t find it in him to leave that room now. What if something happened while he wasn’t here? What if he hadn’t woken up when he did? Cas could have _died_ in here and he wouldn’t have even known.

The single thought of it was enough to have Dean make up his mind. Suddenly he didn’t care if Cas wanted him here or not. He wouldn’t let Cas die because he was a stubborn, suicidal bastard. Everything else aside, Cas was _family_ , and that meant Dean would take care of him for as long as he needed to, even against Cas’ will.

“I’m not gonna let you die, okay?” Dean muttered, running his hand through the mess of black hair on the top of Cas’ head, loving the softness of it against the calloused skin of his palm, but wishing those striking blue eyes were open to look up at him right now, “If you don’t want me here when you get better, that’s fine, I’ll go. But until then?” Dean swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and was currently trying to quiet his voice. His eyes were stinging again, but this time he made no effort to stop the tears, soon enough feeling the first one sliding down his cheek and reaching his chin, “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.” His voice trembled at the thought of failing yet another person he cared about. But he couldn’t fail Cas. He wouldn’t let that happen; not again, not this time. “I’ve lost way too many people already. I can’t lose you too, Cas. Not you. I just can’t.”

The rest of the night and part of the following morning were spent by constantly checking on Cas, as well as perking up every single time the angel stirred beside him. But he never woke, which Dean couldn’t decide was bad or good. At least the fever hadn’t come back, and for that Dean was extremely happy. It meant Cas was getting better, a knowledge that seemed to lift an immense weight from his chest and made it easier for Dean to breathe.

Of course, having that much time with almost nothing to do (he didn’t have cell reception _or_ wi-fi in this place) meant that he had a lot of time to think, and that usually ended badly, so it wasn’t a surprise that Dean actually grew even more confused as the minutes passed and he caught himself wondering what the hell had happened in the middle of the night.

He knew what he had seen in his head had been memories. The first one, of Randy and all the other guys dead and bloody around him, was definitely his memory, just as everything he had seen through the eyes of his demon self, sharper memories somehow that didn’t feel like they belonged entirely to him, but that were his nonetheless.

But the rest? He was pretty sure those were Cas’ memories, a realization that was both confusing and startling.  Dean remembered what Cas had told him about devastating Heaven when he had been all power-drunk with souls from Purgatory, just as he recalled that Naomi had made Cas train killing him over and over and even so, Cas had broken the bitch’s mind-control without going through with her sick plan. Dean knew about all of that, had for a while now, but actually _seeing_ all that was a little overwhelming.

He also remembered watching the angels fall from outside that church, and not from a field, so he knew that memory also did not belong to him; it must also be Cas’.

The guilt that followed those scenes (and all the others, including the ones of himself and Sam), he had felt that as his own, and it had been so strong it had soon enough become truly suffocating. Was that what Cas had been dreaming about? Mumbling, too? Was he reliving his worst memories and just beating himself over the ugly stuff he had done in the past?

What really had Dean struggling a little to understand, however, was the fact that he had actually _seen_ all those things in the first place. It was actually freaking him out a little, because how could he be peeking into the angel’s mind like that? Maybe Cas was projecting or something, and he had been close enough to pick up the signal? Did that even make sense? And why would he pick up the signal, anyway? Could a human even do that? And if that was the case, why had Dean been able to see all those other images in his head all the way back in the Bunker, as well as in his motel room in Colorado? How had _that_ happened?

Also, now that he really thought about it, he was pretty sure Cas’ discomfort might have been the reason he had woken up in the first place. Dean _had_ woken up sweating and panting, with difficulty to breathe and feeling pretty warm, just what Cas seemed to have been dealing with when he had gotten to the bedroom to check on the angel. Could Cas have somehow projected that too?

Dean didn’t know if that was even close to what had actually happened, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to figure it out on his own, no matter how hard he tried. He would just have to file all that in the list of things ‘He and Cas really needed to talk about’, which seemed to be getting pretty big really damn fast.

But for that, Cas needed to wake up, and all Dean could do until that happened was wait. So that was what he did, watching over the angel through the night. The thought actually had him smiling a little, even considering the circumstances, because the irony of it was a little amusing. Cas would find it amusing, at least, Dean was pretty sure of that.

The sun had already gone up for a few hours when Dean at last found the will to move, but only because his body had decided to complain that he was hungry and needed food after having spent most of the night awake and worrying about Cas’ well-being like he had. He had gotten about three hours tops of sleep until he woke up to Cas burning up with that terrible fever, and he hadn’t allowed himself to get any shut-eye after that. He was honestly terrified of falling asleep and not being awake if Cas needed him again. He would never forgive himself if Cas died on his watch while he was supposed to be taking care of him.

He still checked Cas’ temperature once more before leaving the room, finding that it hadn’t changed much since the last time he had done it. He also changed the gauze around the angel’s arm just because he felt like he had to do something else, noticing with a wave of relief that the cut was healing now. That was good; it meant Cas was getting better. Dean held strongly onto that thought.

As soon as Dean walked into the kitchen and caught a whiff of the burger he had cooked for Cas the night before, he had to make a run for the bathroom to empty his stomach, even though he was pretty sure there wasn’t much in it for him to throw up to begin with. What the hell was wrong with him lately? His stomach had _never_ acted up like this before, why the hell had it decided to do it now? He could barely eat anything without throwing up these days, and that was getting very, _very_ annoying.

When he was done in the bathroom, he stalked back to the kitchen, steering clear of the burger this time.

He made a quick butter and jelly for himself, glad to realize it didn’t make him nauseous. He also managed to eat another slice of apple pie, which instantly put him in a better mood. Pie always made things better.

Still, he was already feeling the lack of coffee catching up to him, but it wasn’t like he would just buy a freaking coffee maker for the cabin. He would have to live without it for a few days, that was all. He would survive, at least.

He was cleaning up after himself a few minutes later when he actually _felt_ , rather than heard, when Cas woke up.

Dean wasn’t sure how to describe what it felt like, really. It was weird, that was for sure. There was just suddenly this… shift in everything, he guessed, like when you just know something changed but can’t exactly explain how. He just knew it.

He looked over to the bedroom door, almost expecting Cas to be standing there, but he wasn’t. Abandoning the dishes he had been doing and wiping his hands on his jeans to dry them a little, Dean pretty much ran down the path he had already taken so many times since yesterday, feeling his heart speeding up inside his chest in expectation.

Cas was sitting up.

The angel was squinting around the room, as if trying to understand how he had gotten there in the first place, which was probably exactly what he was doing. He glanced down at his clothes and his frown only deepened, his blue eyes growing more alert with every second that passed, especially when his eyes found the clean gauze still wrapped around his arm.

Last night Dean had been sure he would never see that again. Dean let out a breath of relief at the sight of Cas actually fucking _awake_ and _alive_. He even had some color in his skin, having at some point during the night lost most of yesterday’s paleness, which truly was a sight for sore eyes in that moment.

Cas was _fine_.

The sound of Dean’s heavy sigh seemed to finally alert Cas of the hunter’s presence, because the angel snapped his head to the side the second the puff of air was out of Dean’s mouth, his azure eyes widening in clear shock. He really hadn’t expected Dean to find him here, had he?

“Dean.”

Dean managed a small smile at the angel, even when he could already feel himself growing more and more nervous with every passing second. This was the first time he was in the same room with a conscious Cas after they’d had sex and the angel had walked out on him, so of course he would feel nervous. Surprisingly, even with that thought hovering around in the forefront of his mind, he still managed to speak calmly and without struggle, which really was a small victory for him.

“Hey, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys have already figured out that I have a thing for cliffhangers XP
> 
> In my defense, this was originally the chapter where Dean and Cas finally talked, but I got a little carried away :P But, hey, at least they're alone in a secluded cabin, so that's something, right? XD
> 
> So, how do you guys think Cas and Dean's conversation will go? And what exactly does Crowley know? ;)
> 
> For those who, like me, are not used to using the Fahrenheit scale to measure temperature, here are the same temperatures from this chapter converted to Celsius:
> 
> 101.8°F = 38.8°C  
> 108.2°F = 42.3°C  
> 98.4°F = 36.9°C


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys are amazing! :D Thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks and kind comments, your words warm my little Destiel heart<3 :)
> 
> I apologize for the long wait, this chapter took a little longer than I expected. I had to move a lot of stuff around until I was finally happy with it. Honestly, I'm still a little nervous about it. But hopefully some things will finally start to make sense. :)

“Do you really think that was a good idea?” Charlie asked for the twentieth time already, or at least that was Sam’s guess. He’d already lost count by now. “I mean, sending the freaking _King of Hell_ to fetch Dean?”

Sam closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as he tried to ease the clearly oncoming headache. He hesitated to answer, mostly because he didn’t know the answer to that question himself. He wished he knew what the right thing to do was, or at least if calling Crowley had been a mistake. That same question would echo in his mind in an endless loop since he’d spoken to Crowley the day before, but he honestly didn’t know what to expect out of the demon. All he knew was that Crowley didn’t want Dean to be a Knight of Hell again, and that was all he had to bet on right now. It wasn’t like he had a better option. It wasn’t like he had _any other_ option.

He had spent the last two days doing everything he could think of to reach Dean, but his brother simply did not want to be found. Dean had turned off the GPS in all his phones and wouldn’t answer Sam’s calls or texts, so there was no way his brother would be able to reach him. Hannah wasn’t much help either, having left the day before with the announcement that she needed to return to Heaven, apparently having decided that she could not be of assistance in the Bunker anymore now that Dean was no longer present. She had left with the promise that she would try to track down both Dean and Castiel, but Sam hadn’t heard from her ever since she’d left, and honestly, after the whole conversation about how she couldn’t possibly find Cas in time, Sam doubted they would hear from her any time soon, if at all. Dean certainly knew how to hide if he didn’t want to be found, and apparently Cas had been doing a pretty great job of hiding so far. Even Sam could see her chances of finding either of them were not good at all.

And that had been why Sam had caved and decided to use what he knew was the very last resort of a truly desperate man, so he’d called Crowley and told him that Dean was getting worse and had taken off without a trace. And that of course had been enough to send the demon after his brother, considering the last thing Crowley could possibly want was to have Dean running around as a demon he had no means to control again. Sam just hoped Crowley would be able to find Dean before anything happened.

Still, that didn’t mean Sam trusted Crowley. In fact, he didn’t trust the demon at all, but he’d had no other choice but to ask for his help based on the fact that they had a shared interest. Honestly, Sam knew that working with Crowley was _never_ a good idea (he and Dean had a lot of experience in that department), but the clock was ticking and their time was running out, so what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t possibly just sit around and wait for Dean to come back when he knew there was a chance that might not happen. Dean’s life was on the line, hanging by a thin and fragile thread, even if his brother refused to act like it.

“Probably not,” he answered truthfully, letting out a heavy, strained sigh, “But it's really all we can do right now.”

“Thank you for your trust, Moose. I really do appreciate it.”

Both humans jumped at the sound of a third voice in the room, turning on their seats to find Crowley sitting on a chair not five feet away from them, smirking for whatever reason they didn’t know. The next thing Sam noticed was the fact that he couldn’t see Dean anywhere, which instantly had him frowning. Maybe Dean was unconscious and Crowley had left him in his room?

“Dean’s not with me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“What?” Sam stood up from his chair, stepping forward, allowing his body to move on pure instinct so he was in the way between Crowley and Charlie, acting like a barrier even without completely meaning to, “You told me you would find him and bring him here!”

“If I recall correctly, and I can assure you that I do, what I did say was that I would look for your brother,” Crowley spoke calmly, not even flinching as Sam raised his voice. If anything, he actually looked bored. “And I did find him. I just didn’t bring him here.”

Various scenarios of Crowley locking Dean up somewhere so he could have at least some control over the Mark flashed through Sam’s mind at those words, each one of them filling Sam with anger, not only at the demon but at himself for even considering that he could have trusted Crowley with this. If anything happened to Dean, it would be entirely Sam’s fault, since he had been the one to call Crowley in the first place. Damn it, he should have known. He should have seen this coming, but he had been too worried about his brother to think clearly enough for that.

“Where is he Crowley?” Sam barely managed to conceal his anger in, though he wasn’t trying very hard to do so.

“My guess is that he has already arrived at his destination,” Crowley looked down at the fancy and so clearly ridiculously expensive watch he was wearing wrapped around his left wrist, “Dean doesn’t exactly drive under the speed limit, as I’ve noticed, and he might be a little dumb, but I do believe he should have found what he was looking for by now.”

Okay, so Dean was still out there on his own, and not locked up somewhere. Sam felt some of the anger from before melting away, but a good part still remained. If Crowley hadn’t suddenly decided to cross them over, then why was the demon still here and not dragging Dean back to the Bunker?

“Why? You were supposed to bring him here!”

Crowley shrugged, “I simply decided not to.”

For the longest time, Sam and Crowley just stared at each other, tense and unblinking. It was almost like a glaring contest; one both of them seemed intent on winning at any cost, not daring to move as they silently challenged the other to glance away, tried to wordlessly make the other’s resolve crumble.

Surprisingly, it was Crowley who looked away first, but only to roll his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. “Keeping Dean here would only kill him faster, Moose.”

“What are you talking about?”

Crowley didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just leveled Sam with an almost calculating gaze, as if considering what exactly he should say, weighing his words carefully in his mind, as though twisting them around so he could consider every angle, analyzing ever possible outcome.

The silence stretched on for so long it had a feeling of uneasiness settling in Sam’s gut, nervousness slowly creeping up on him and crawling its way under his skin. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this visit. Crowley wasn’t the one to just stop by, and the way he seemed to consider his words even more heavily than usual told Sam he wouldn’t like whatever he would hear. The demon looked almost hesitant, like unsure what to say, which was so out of character for him that Sam couldn’t even bring himself to say anything.

“The Mark is not the only thing affecting your brother, Moose.”

And now Sam was frowning and giving Crowley a look of complete confusion, because no, that couldn’t be true. They couldn’t deal with something else. Their plate wasn’t simply full; it had an actual mountain on it and even a just a tiny little more would make everything crumble around them. “What else could be affecting him, Crowley?”

“His soul,” the demon answered like it was the simplest thing in the world, that same smirk from before tugging at the corner of his lips once more, “It’s claimed.”

***~*~*~*~***

Cas looked confused. He was doing his usual head tilt thing as he stared at Dean, a frown deeply settled in his brows as the angel seemed to consider Dean’s entire existence with only a simple look. Dean had been used to that for a while—it definitely wasn’t the first time he was subjected to that very look over the past few years—but it was different this time. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about that stare that just seemed more… _intense_ than any other look he’d ever received from Cas before _._ He just couldn’t put his finger on what that meant, exactly, all he knew was that it made him uncomfortable in a way he hadn’t felt in Cas’ presence in a while, not since he’d met the angel for the first time over six years ago.

The silence had long since grown unbearable, and since it didn’t look like Cas had any intention to break it, Dean decided to take the matter into his own hands.

“How are you feeling?”

That seemed to snap Cas out of whatever trance he had been on, because he suddenly looked down, shaking his head lightly from one side to the other just subtly, such a weak movement it was barely there at all.

 “Weak,” the angel finally answered. His voice sounded as gravelly as ever, though it lacked the usual strength Dean had grown accustomed to hearing when Cas spoke.

Dean nodded numbly, because that wasn’t exactly an unexpected answer, not when Cas had almost died last night. Dean would find it odd if Cas had told him he was fine, honestly. “I bandaged the cut on your arm. And you had a pretty bad fever last night,” It was the only think he could think to say, the only thing he could manage to speak out loud right now. Explaining what he had done while the angel was unconscious was simple, easy. They could get to the more complicated subjects in a moment. “I had to put you in a bath full of ice to get it to go down, but it did break eventually.”

If possible, Cas’ frown only deepened. “How long have you been here?”

Dean shrugged, “About a day.”

“But how did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I would be, not even Hannah.”

Yeah, Dean knew that already. Hannah not knowing a thing had actually made things pretty complicated for him, but he had managed. Of course, the visions had helped a lot, but he had still pretty much gone in blind when he’d decided to just go with his gut and follow them, considering he hadn’t been sure the images he had seen in his head would lead him to Cas to begin with.

Dean swallowed, struggling with the countless questions pilling up in his head; trying to keep his rushed thoughts clear enough to speak calmly. Keeping his voice low, however, proved to be a pretty hard task. “I saw this place, Cas, in my head. And a bed and breakfast nearby, too, so I just looked it up to find out the address,” That was as simple as Dean could make the story, “Now, would you mind explaining to me how the hell that happened?”

A pained expression took over Cas’ features, a pinch instantly obvious between his brows. The angel tore his gaze away from the hunter as Cas' entire body tensed, and Dean instinctively felt tempted to step forward in case the angel needed any kind of support, not sure if Cas was physically hurting or not. But he held that urge back, still forcing his body to simply linger by the doorway. He wasn’t sure if Cas wanted him close or not, but he was guessing he didn’t, if the way he sat unusually stiff on the bed was anything to go by.

“Why did it not work?” Dean heard Cas mutter, sounding more like he was talking to himself than to the human, but Dean still picked up on the words.

“What, the warding? That supposed to keeps humans out too?”

Cas shook his head, still not looking back up at Dean. “No,” he replied lowly, “The spell.”

Right, the spell Cas had almost died to perform, which apparently hadn’t even worked. Awesome.

Cas didn’t look like he was about to elaborate that, which made Dean’s fists to clench at his sides. The hunter felt a surge of anger washing over his insides at just how little Cas seemed willing to explain to him, even when Dean had only found this place because of freaking images appearing in his head, images he was apparently channeling from Cas’ mind somehow, which by the way, wasn’t freaky or worrying at all, of course not, why would it be? Damn it, didn’t Dean deserve more than that? Didn’t Cas trust him enough to share what the hell was going on here? Didn’t Cas think Dean at least had the right to know?

With that thought in mind, Dean strode over to the bed, only stopping when he was standing right in front of Cas. “Alright, this is enough. I want to know what the hell is going on, Cas, and I want to know now.”

Cas eyes were wide when he finally allowed his gaze to meet Dean’s again, maybe surprised by Dean’s sudden outburst, though there was something else in them that closely resembled panic.

That sight wasn’t enough to make Dean slow down.

“I know something’s up, Cas. I’ve been seeing things, reliving memories that aren’t mine; _your_ memories, Cas! I’m feeling things I can’t even understand, and it’s freaking me out! Even Crowley noticed there was something off about me, so it would be great if you could fucking explain it to me!”

Dean wasn’t sure where all that anger was coming from (maybe from the Mark, he couldn’t be sure), but he just let it all out. He was angry at Cas and the angel needed to know that. Dean just wanted answers, was that too much to ask?

Cas let out what Dean could only define as a defeated sigh. Maybe he had been planning to be cryptic about it, but something in the angel’s eyes seemed to shift at the sound of pure anger pouring into Dean’s words. Dean was panting when he was done speaking, his hands shaking by his sides as he waited for Cas to say something—courtesy of the Mark, he assumed, which seemed very happy with the little anger from the hunter it could get a hold of. It was a sickening thought, but it was the truth. It was burning now, too, though the feeling was dulled, weaker than it had ever been before.

“I am so sorry, Dean,” Cas finally replied, shaking his head lightly as he looked back down. “This is my fault. I…”

There was something in Cas’ tone, such a strong hint of regret in those words that had Dean actually waiting to hear, even if he felt like yelling some more. He held that urge back as best as he could, forcing the Mark to shut the hell up for once. It usually didn’t work, so it was a shock to realize that the Mark did actually back off a little at his request, some of his anger fading with it, the Mark’s mumbling growing duller and more distant within seconds. That had never happened before, and Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it now, though.

“When we were... intimate,” Dean’s entire body tensed, surprised by the unexpected mention of their night together. Cas seemed unfazed by it, however, his voice and face unreadable as he spoke, “I lost control of myself. I allowed something to happen that should not have happened.”

And that, right there, was a punch to the gut, or maybe a stab; the latter seemed a lot more accurate, to be honest. So Cas _did_ regret it. Dean had to actually take a few steps away from the bed and the angel sitting on it to process what he had just heard. The room was suddenly a little too small for his liking, the air a little too heavy and making it hard to breathe. He was such an _idiot_. Why had he allowed it to happen? Cas had seemed willing (very much so, in fact), but maybe Dean had been delusional, so overwhelmed with the desire he had kept locked away for so long he had not been able to think clearly, because apparently the angel hadn’t meant a thing he’d said to Dean that night and Dean hadn’t been able to realize that before.

“Right,” Dean hated how there was no strength in his voice anymore, how it wavered, almost trembling as he spoke. He _hated_ it, but couldn’t stop it. “That’s why you took off, then? You realized what happened and just thought it better not to be there when I woke up?”

“Yes,” The word alone was another stab, this time to his chest, like a blade tearing its way through his heart, or at least that’s what it felt like. His eyes stung a little, but Dean blinked, willing any stray tear away before it could even form. How the hell had he been so _stupid_ to even think that Cas might actually want him? How could he have been so _blind_? He had been completely delusional, he realized that clearly now. And stupid. _So fucking stupid._ “I… needed distance, to try and fix what I had done.”

“Distance?” Dean’s voice rose without his consent, but he didn’t even care anymore. He could feel the Mark perking up again, clearly interested in the way a spark of anger began to light up inside Dean once more, but he made no effort to push it away this time. In fact, he almost welcomed the fuel to his rage. “So what, you thought cutting me off and hiding yourself in a cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere was the answer to everything? That it would just erase everything that happened? That pretending nothing happened between us would solve anything? Does any of that sound right to you, Cas?”

“No, Dean, it was not—”

“Then what? Die here? Because you couldn’t fucking say the words to my face? Because you couldn’t just stick around and _talk_ to me afterwards? Because instead of telling me that you regretted what happened, like normal people do, you thought it would be easier to just hide from the world in a cabin and die on your own?!”

An expression of confusion took over Cas’ face, the frown coming back even more intensely than before. “Dean, wait, I don’t think you understand—”

“No, Cas, I understand,” Dean pretty much spat at him, not even trying to slow down anymore. He was just so fucking _pissed_. His hands were shaking with his effort to keep still, the Mark flaring up in his arm at the feeling of it, egging him on, whispering for him to give in to the anger, to let it all out. His control was quickly crumbling to the ground, fading fast as it slipped through the spaces between his fingers. “I understand that you decided it was easier to act like a fucking coward than to face me, to even talk to me! And I was just so fucking _stupid_ that I actually thought that couldn’t be it. I convinced myself that you actually had a reason to leave. And I didn’t even—”

“Dean, stop!”

Dean paused, surprised at Cas’ sudden outburst. Why did he sound so angry? Dean was the one with a reason to be angry here, not him. But instead of looking sorry or at least something even similar to it, Cas looked almost haunted, panicked even, which Dean couldn’t understand at all. The angel was shaking his head almost frantically now, his eyes wide and pleading, just adding to the pile of things that didn’t make sense in Dean’s head.

“I don’t regret what we did, Dean,” Cas voice shook as he spoke, his breathing a little ragged from the effort his earlier outburst had taken. He wasn’t fine still, and maybe this was argument was putting a strain on him that he really didn’t need after almost dying. _Shit_. Dean felt his head clear up all of a sudden at that realization, like a curtain being pulled off of his mind, or a cloud of smoke vanishing with the wind. Why couldn’t Dean keep his damn mouth shut? He had gone a little overboard; he realized that now as the fog of rage seemed to lift from his mind. It took a lot more effort than it had before, but he managed to push the Mark away again. It snarled angrily at him, but fortunately it backed off again, grumbling to itself like before and making a point to let Dean know it hated basically everything. Again.

It took a moment for Dean to process the words he had just heard. What was Cas playing at here? The angel had literally said the exact opposite of that not a minute ago. “Cas, you said it yourself that you made a mistake and left to fix it.”

“Yes, but the mistake is not what you think.” Cas’ eyes were even more pleading now, two big blue orbs so filled with pure, raw panic that seemed to draw Dean in and settle his slightly racing heart. Even through the remaining anger, Dean hated the look on Cas’ face, hated how _wrong_ it was for the angel. “Dean, what we did… It was the best thing to ever happen to me, in all of my existence. I could never regret it.”

_Oh._

Those words floated inside Dean’s head for very close to a minute until their meaning actually sunk in. He opened his mouth a few times, but closed it soon after, his mind refusing to conjure something to say. What was he supposed to say? He was shocked, words completely failing him and turning his mind into a blank page. He wasn’t sure he could form a coherent sentence after hearing something like _that_.

“What I regret is the fact that I lost control of myself,” Cas continued, apparently not having expecting Dean to say something in response anyway, “I had never felt something even close to that as an angel, Dean, something so strong and… intense, only as a human, and even during my time with April, it had been nothing like that,” Dean would have felt smug if he wasn’t so damn confused right now, “So I had no idea it could happen.”

Finally, after swallowing heavily and forcing his mind to start working properly again, Dean managed to find his voice and ask, “What could happen?”

Cas swallowed thickly, clearly also having trouble with his words, a sight that seemed to be growing more common these days, as startling and foreign as it may be. “I lost control of my Grace.”

Dean frowned as he turned the words around in his head. He wasn’t entirely sure what to understand from that. “Is that why the entire room lit up in light? Was that your Grace pouring out or something?”

Cas nodded lightly, “Not only that, however. It did not simply ‘pour out’,” Dean could actually hear the air quotes in the angel’s voice, “It also poured into you.”

Dean had to do a double take to even begin processing that. For over a minute, he didn’t say anything, just tried to make sense of what he had heard. He remembered feeling like he was burning up from the inside when Cas lit up with Grace, the heat filling every single fiber of his being, so he assumed that was what Cas was talking about here. But what did that even mean, exactly? To have an angel’s Grace actually _pour_ into someone?

“Okay,” Dean nodded slowly, “I’m guessing that did something.”

“It did. It…” Cas looked back down, looking truthfully nervous, which was a very, _very_ weird sight to see. He looked almost _human_ , especially with the whole borrowed t-shirt and sweats combo he was wearing, plus the way his hair was even messier than usual, having dried while the angel had been unconscious during the night. “My Grace touched your soul, Dean. And that formed a… connection, of sorts.”

“A connection?” And now Dean was frowning again, “What kind of connection?”

Cas swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the movement, and Dean could not help but allow his eyes to follow the motion even without his mind’s consent.

“It’s called a soul bond.”

“A soul bond?” Those three words echoed inside Dean’s head for way too many times, but the term didn’t magically begin to make any sense, even after the hundredth time. So their souls were bonded? How did that even work? How did…?

What did that even _mean_?

“I did not mean for it to happen, Dean. It should not have happened. It should be impossible for something like this to happen. I _thought_ it was impossible.”

Dean did everything he could to keep calm, swallowing drily and trying to make some sense out of his racing, confused thoughts. Running a hand over his stubble, he let a breath out through his lips. His soul was bonded to Cas’. What the hell did that even _mean_? Did that mean Cas could read his thoughts? Was that where the visions had come from? Why he had felt Cas’ discomfort with the fever last night? What else could he do now?

“How does that even work, Cas?” Dean finally asked, “I mean, what… what does that even do?”

“It is a connection between your soul and my Grace. It binds us together, allows us to… feel certain things coming from each other, and it also gives us a mental link, to some degree.”

“So you can read my mind?” Well, wasn’t that just great.

Cas shook his head. “Not exactly. I have access to what you allow me to see or hear. In this moment, I cannot feel anything coming from you, although your anger was very evident to me a moment ago, so much it was almost… overwhelming.” Dean looked down at that, swallowing drily. He felt almost bad knowing he had let his anger flood Cas' mind like that, but chose not to comment, “Normally, I can only see what you are willing to share. It works the same way for you. We might be able to communicate through thoughts if we want to, but that would take a lot of practice for you, since you are not used with telepathy.”

Well, that was a relief. Having Cas read every single thought in his head would get pretty creepy and awkward really damn fast. Dean liked his privacy, especially in his own freaking mind, so it was good to find out he could at least filter what Cas heard from him. “Well, that kind of explains the images and stuff.”

“I tried to block the effects of the bond, so you would not feel it, but it is difficult to maintain the bond closed when I am too weak.”

“So that’s why I saw you hurt that night,” Dean guessed, little tiny pieces fitting together in his mind like a puzzle as things finally started to make sense. “Crowley said you killed a few demons, and that you got hurt in the fight. That’s why I saw this place.”

Cas nodded lightly. “Yes, I would assume so. I came across the group of four demons a few towns over. They had slaughtered an entire family, and I decided to end them, but I overestimated my strength, I would say. I was badly wounded in the fight, and my weakened state made it harder for me to maintain the bond closed.”

Well, that kind of made sense. Dean’s first instinct was to reprimand Cas for even going after the demons in the first place, but he held any comment back, swallowing the words before they could jump off his tongue without his consent. This was not the time.

Instead, he let out, “And when you had the fever, it hit you pretty hard. I even woke up because of it.”

“The bond must have been trying to warn you, just as it warned me about your weakened state in Colorado. I was already wounded by then, so I was able to receive images from your mind.” So _that_ was how Cas had known where he was, right down to the number of motel room he had been staying at. He must have gotten glimpses from Dean’s mind through the bond without Dean even being aware of it. “Also, the spell I performed drained my strength, so I would guess you felt that too.”

Damn right he did, Dean had almost passed out again in his bedroom back in the Bunker because of it. “What were you trying to do, anyway?”

Cas paused at that question, opening his mouth and closing it twice before he actually answered the question. His hesitation was an odd, unnerving sight to see, and it instantly had a few warning bells ringing inside Dean’s head, telling him that he wouldn’t like what he would hear next.

“I was trying to break the bond.”

Dean wasn’t sure why that came out as such a shock or why it kind of hurt, but it did. Dean was acutely aware of the fact that Cas had preferred to just run off to a freaking mountain and try to do this without even talking to him first, like he was so eager to get rid of this bond that it just couldn’t wait; that the idea of having his soul bonded to Dean's was so utterly terrible that Cas had needed to break the bond right away.

“That’s what you meant by fixing it, then?” Even Dean could hear the hint of bitterness in his own voice.

Cas nodded slowly. “I tried to simply severe the connection at first. Some of the symbols on the walls serve that purpose, since I was too weak to do it myself after my encounter with those demons, although that did not work perfectly. Our mental link remained partially open. The other symbols are part of the warding.”

Oh, well, that made sense, Dean supposed. Was that why he had felt something shift when he walked inside? Was that why the Mark seemed more active outside? “I felt the change when I came in. The Mark… it’s quieter in here, duller.”

“It is?” Cas sounded genuinely surprised to hear that.

“Yeah, I mean, it was pretty angry outside, but in here, it gets… numb, sort of. I can still feel it, but it’s not as active.” It was like there was a wall between his conscience and the influence of the Mark, though not a solid wall, more like just a thin a barrier. Some sound could still get through, but the contact wasn’t as direct as it had been before, when his conscience and the Mark’s presence tended to mingle so closely that sometimes he could not tell them apart.

“I believed the bond might have the opposite effect on the Mark,” Cas admitted, “I can tell it is angry about the connection to an angel’s Grace, and that it would do something about the bond if it were able to. It has tried to, though I assume my Grace has been attempting to block its effects now that you’re here.”

“Wait, you can feel it?” Dean could literally hear a record screeching inside his head at those words. How could…?

“Some of it,” the angel admitted calmly, sounding as if it wasn’t a big deal at all, “It’s almost like an echo of what you feel and hear from it. I can tell it is angry because of the bond, but mostly at the fact that it can’t break the bond itself.”

_Break… break… make bleed…_

_Break it… Break… It can’t grow if it breaks…_

_Fade… Burn out and go to waste… It has to break...._

Suddenly those words made sense, but the realization made a chill go down Dean’s spine. The hatred in those words was palpable, left a sour taste in his mouth and made his insides freeze. The meaning behind all that was clear now. The Mark hated the bond, and it wanted it to break, wanted it gone.

“Is that why I’ve been having these attacks? When I can’t breathe, cough out blood, everything hurts and I basically feel like I’m dying? Is that the Mark trying to break the bond?” It made sense, to be honest.

Cas nodded. “I believe so. I assume it has been taking advantage of the weakened state of my Grace to attempt to break the soul bond somehow. Did these attacks start sixteen days ago?”

Dean did a quick math in his head, realizing he didn’t remember the exact date when he'd had the first attack in the Bunker's kitchen, but he knew that Cas’ guess was pretty close to it. A little over two weeks? Yeah, that was a pretty good guess. “Yeah, I think so," He nodded lightly, "Let me guess: that’s when you killed the demons?”

Cas’ nod was heavy, slow, like the movement strained the angel somehow. “My strength was drained for days after my encounter with the demons, and the fact that I attempted to block the bond on your end must have made it worse. The Mark must have taken advantage of the chance.”

“Is that why you tried to break it yourself?” Dean guessed, “Because you thought the Mark would only get worse?” It made sense, Dean supposed, though somehow he knew there was more to it.

“Not entirely, but that was part of it, yes.”

Tired of just standing there, Dean decided the air around them had cleared up enough for him to take a seat on the edge of the bed beside Cas. “Then why else?” He needed to know, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. Cas probably didn’t want to have his soul bonded to him, and Dean got that, he really did. Why would Cas want that, anyway? Why would  _anyone_ want that?

And also, having your soul bonded to another being’s soul did sound a little (okay, a lot) scary. He was trying not to think _too_ much about it, because he knew he was very close to freaking out, but he wouldn’t let that show. That wouldn’t help anything, anyway. Cas had already tried to break the bond and failed, so right now, Dean assumed they’d have to just deal with it.

“I was scared, mostly. I… I wasn’t sure how you would react to it, Dean. I thought you would hate me for it.”

“Why would I hate you, Cas?” The idea sounded truly impossible in his head, and it was saddening that Cas did not think about it the same way, even after everything they’d gone through together over the years. How could Cas possibly think Dean could ever hate him?

Cas shook his head, his eyes back to their previous pleading state, which was confusing to say the least. There was an urgency to his voice that had Dean growing quiet, silently waiting for Cas to continue. He wasn’t sure anything he said right now would come out coherently, anyway. “A soul bond is… difficult to explain, Dean. A literal connection that reaches down to your very soul. If anything, what I did, forging such a meaningful bond without your consent, even without meaning it… It was a violation of the deepest degree, one I had no right to do.”

“But you didn’t mean to do it,” Dean was quick to point out.

“No,” Cas shook his head lightly, “And yet, it still happened.”

There was a distance to Cas’ voice that Dean couldn’t quite shake. He frowned, looking into the angel’s eyes and finding a clear hint of doubt in them, a hesitance that was so clearly obvious it would have been impossible for him to miss it. He had a feeling even Cas wasn’t sure how it had happened. And now that he thought about it…

“Why did you say it was impossible earlier?”

Cas looked away this time, glancing back down at his hands to avoid Dean’s eyes, almost like he was ashamed, which Dean honestly couldn’t understand. Briefly, he wondered how to reach out to Cas with his mind and try to read what the angel was feeling through the bond, but he was pretty sure Cas might be blocking him right now, or at least he was just being careful not to project. Dean knew he would be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed. He couldn’t feel anything coming from Cas right now, and he didn’t even know what he was doing anyway, so he wasn’t sure how to reach out in the first place to find out if he was really being blocked. He wondered if he would learn how to do it at some point, or even if he could do that at all.

“A bond between angels is rare, but it does happen. Very few angels were ever chosen to take on a soul mate, and some still declined when chosen, because a mate is essentially a companion for all eternity, while the soul bond itself is the highest proof of trust there is.” Yeah, way to make is sound simple, Cas. It’s not like hearing something like _that_ would make Dean freak out even more. Also, he definitely did not want to think about the fact that Cas had pretty much just implied Dean was his ‘mate’. Nope, not happening at all. “To form a bond like this, a ritual is required, a very intricate spell to join both angels’ Graces. Forming a soul bond without a ritual should be impossible, and I’m guessing that must have been the reason why we were both rendered unconscious the moment it was formed.”

_Both?_

“Wait, I know I was out for three days, but you were out too?” That was certainly news to Dean. To be honest, he hadn’t even thought about that until now. For some reason he'd just assumed he had been the only one of them that had been knocked out, and he honestly hadn't even considered the possibility that Cas might have also lost consciousness, but he now realized that maybe he should have.

“I was unconscious for two days,” Cas admitted, his voice calm, like he might as well be talking about the weather.

Well, _that_  was something Dean hadn't known about. “So, I’m guessing it was the bond that knocked us both out.”

“Yes,” Cas nodded lightly, “The forming of a soul bond uses and releases an unimaginable amount of energy, so much it was overwhelming for both of us. I am assuming that would be the reason why we both lost consciousness.”

Yeah, that kind of made sense. Sort of. But it was still a little freaky.

"I still don't get why you said this was impossible," Dean commented, going over everything in his head and trying to understand where exactly Cas was trying to get right now.

“A bond between an angel and a human is even rarer than a bond between two angels. It is actually forbidden by Heaven.”

So, Dean had done yet another thing Heaven didn't like. That wasn't exactly news, really. Still, he had to ask, “Why is it forbidden?”

Cas’ response wasn’t at all what Dean had expected to hear.

“Do you remember, years ago, when I was too weak to bring you and Sam back from your quest of killing the phoenix in the past to use its ashes to kill Eve, and I had to use the energy of Bobby’s soul to pull you through time and back to the present?”

Dean ignored the painful pull at his heart at the mention of his surrogate father’s name, forcing his mind to focus on the current subject, “Yeah?”

“This would be something similar. If an angel touches a human soul, we can draw power from it, but we have to be careful, for it is dangerous. The procedure is extremely painful for the human, as I am sure you already know, and it can cause the soul to collapse. But with a bond like ours, I am constantly at direct contact with your soul. I can draw power from it at any time and use it as though the power came from my own Grace, and your soul would not be in any danger of reacting dangerously to it.”

“Like a second battery,” Dean nodded slowly, “And I’m guessing the suits upstairs don’t like the idea of that.”

Cas shook his head lightly. “It’s like an angel twice as powerful as they should be. No angel should have that much power at their disposal.”

Dean got it, he really did, and honestly, it was a little freaky to know Cas could draw on his freaking soul whenever he wanted to, but Cas wasn’t a bad guy. Sure, he’d had his moments in the past, but Cas wasn’t evil. He’d always had good intentions, which was often the reason why he had made a mess of things so many times in the past. If Cas was afraid that he could—

Dean’s eyes widened a thought struck him, his head snapping to the side so he could look back at Cas. “Wait, does that mean you can recharge your Grace through me?”

Cas hesitated a little before answering, before finally nodding. “I am fairly certain that is the main reason why I am still alive. I drained my Grace to the last drop of power while performing the spell, Dean, but the soul bond did not break, and my Grace must have held onto it and drawn some power to itself to keep me alive.”

“Well, that’s awesome, then,” Dean hurried to say, barely able to contain his enthusiasm from spilling into his voice. Suddenly there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Cas’ Grace was burning out, sure, but he could just recharge using Dean’s soul now. If this bond could save Cas’ life…

“It is not that simple, Dean.” Cas just always needed to be the buzzkill, didn’t he? Dean had to actually hold back a groan at those words. “Firstly, I have never heard of a case like ours. Forming a bond like this usually requires a ritual, and it takes a lot of power. It makes no sense for a soul bond to be formed on accident like ours was, especially one between an angel and a human. This doesn’t seem right to me.”

Dean opened his mouth ask about how something like that had happened on accident then, but he closed it as another thought crossed his mind, “I still don't get why you tried to break it, though. I mean, Cas, the bond saved your life, and you knew it would help recharge your Grace. Why break it?”

He still didn’t understand the downside of this, except for maybe Heaven throwing a fit about it, though he didn’t really understand the whole thing yet, so maybe Cas would get to that soon enough. Right now, however, the idea of the bond didn’t seem like such a terrible thing like it seemed to be in Cas’ mind, especially not if it was helping keep Cas alive.

“Dean, the bond, if not broken, lasts until the end of time. Even after you die, under normal circumstances, you would still be bound to me.”

“So, what, my soul would be following you around like a ghost?”

“No. If it weren’t for the Mark of Cain, your soul would automatically go to Heaven; that is yet another reason why Heaven does not allow this sort of connection. A human bound to an angel cannot go to Hell, no matter what they do, and their soul can no longer be dealt with. But after death, instead of being bound to your own Heaven, you would be able to pass through the Gates to the portion of Heaven not meant for humans.”

“You mean the angel part of it?”

Cas nodded in response. “Although I’m not sure that would happen while you bear the Mark of Cain, Dean. It is highly improbable the Mark would allow you to pass on to Heaven, as you already know.”

Dean gritted his teeth together at those words, hating just how true they were. The Mark wouldn’t let him go if he died now, just like it hadn’t the last time. Still, there was a bright side to this whole thing, and he didn't understand why Cas seemed unable to see it. “Even with the Mark screwing everything up, Cas, this doesn’t seem so bad, honestly. Sure, Heaven won’t like it, but they don’t have to know about it, and screw those guys, anyway. It numbs the Mark and helps heal your Grace, what else could we ask for?”

Cas, of course, was shaking his head, his expression almost sorrowful, like he couldn’t understand how Dean could have left some details escape his attention. “There’s still one more reason why I attempted to break the bond, Dean.”

Dean actually allowed his groan of annoyance at those words to escape his throat. _Of course_ there was something else. “Okay, shoot.”

“Your soul, it does assist in healing my Grace to a certain extent, so much that right now the Mark’s influence is apparently dulled, but the connection is not enough to heal it completely. My Grace is still fading, Dean, the Mark of Cain is making sure of that, and it will burn out at some point. The process will simply take longer with the connection.”

“Wait, the Mark is doing what?” That was news to Dean, shocking news.

“I can feel its influence through the bond, Dean, and my Grace is instinctively trying to block it out. That must be why you don’t feel it as much in here, but that costs me. The energy provided from your soul tries to balance that loss, but it’s not enough, although my Grace is burning out slower than it was before.”

For the millionth time, Dean cursed the Mark in his head. His hatred for it seemed to grow stronger every day. It wasn’t just affecting him now; it was also trying to kill Cas, and that just seemed so much worse in his mind. Still, Dean failed to see the point Cas was trying to make here. He still didn’t get the bad side of Cas’ Grace taking longer to burn out than it would without the bond. “But Cas, if we’re buying you more time…”

“What do you think happens when my Grace burns out completely, Dean? When I die?”

It took a moment for Dean to get that, but suddenly it made sense. The reason why Cas still didn’t seem to share Dean’s belief that maybe the bond wasn’t a bad thing; suddenly it all made sense in Dean’s mind. Even if the bond was helping shutting up the Mark and healing Cas' Grace, there was still something that screwed it all up. There was _always_ something that screwed it all up.

“I die along with you, don’t I?”

Cas didn’t even need to respond for Dean to know the answer, but he still waited for the heavy nod that followed a moment later for confirmation.

Dean had to get back to his feet at that, pacing around the room as he once more ran his hand over the stubble on his chin and cheek, his mind faintly providing the unhelpful thought that he should shave soon. He tried to think of something to say; of something to make this better, but his mind came up blank. He doubted there was _anything_ he could say in that moment that would dull what Cas had just said somehow; that would make the situation seem less complicated.

“And what happens to you?” Dean found himself asking, feeling dread already pooling in his gut, because he was sure he would definitely not like the answer he would get, but he knew he had to hear it anyway, “If the Mark takes over before your Grace burns out and I become a demon again, what happens to you?”

Cas seemed to consider his words for a moment, weighing his answer in his mind, and it was then that Dean realized he hadn’t even thought about this before. It pained Dean to realize that Cas hadn’t even for a moment worried about what would happen to himself because of this. “I believe that if you die, I will most likely die along with you. And although the Mark would bring you back, I highly doubt that will extend to me.”

Dean had been expecting to hear that, but that didn’t mean the blow of those words was any less painful, that the weight that settled onto his shoulders at the realization that Cas’ life was completely dependent on him was any less heavy.

“What if the Mark takes over and I turn without dying, though? What happens then?" Because that way he wouldn't die, so Cas shouldn't either, right? "I mean, we’ll just still be bonded?”

“It cannot happen,” Cas shook his head lightly, “An angel and a demon cannot be bonded. Angels and demons are complete opposites. A soul connection would be utterly impossible.”

Dean frowned a little, “What exactly are you saying, Cas? That the bond would just be broken if I turned again?”

Cas shook his head, “No. I’m saying that my Grace will not allow you to become a demon, that being the reason why the Mark must end the connection before it can turn you.”

“That’s why it wants to burn out your Grace,” Dean guessed, “Because while I’m bonded to you, I can’t become a Knight of Hell again. It tried to break the bond, and it failed. But if the Mark gets you to waste your Grace, it kills us both. I mean, it kills you and I’m a demon again.” Running his hand through his hair, Dean began pacing again, his thoughts once more racing as he tried to process that new piece of information while struggling to fight the sudden urge to just rip some of his hair off his head in frustration. "Awesome. Just fan-freaking-tastic.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” When Dean looked up, Cas’ eyes had gone back to their apparently constant state of pleading, a sight that made Dean’s heart clench painfully inside his chest. It was just so _unlike_ Cas; such a _wrong_ look on the angel’s face. It actually looked like the angel feared Dean might be angry with him or something, as absurd as that sounded. He really had believed Dean would hate him for this, hadn’t he? “I’m so sorry.”

“Cas, don’t apologize,” Dean hurried to say, pausing his pacing. Maybe Cas had misunderstood his anxiety in some wrong way, Dean wasn’t sure, but he decided to put a stop to it either way. “You didn’t mean to do it, you said it yourself.”

“Regardless, it is still my fault,” Cas voice was slightly strangled now as the angel looked back down at his lap, rubbing his palm over the bandages that still covered part of his arm, “I will never forgive myself if you die because of me, Dean. I…”

“Cas, stop, please,” Cas still wouldn’t look up at him, so Dean decided to be bold, swallowing any hesitation that tried to stop him and sitting back down on the bed. Carefully, he placed his hand under Cas’ chin, but didn’t force him to raise his head, just gave it a little nudge as a silent request. Fortunately, Cas complied, albeit hesitantly. “You can’t blame yourself for this, man. I’m not mad at you, I don’t hate you, and I certainly don’t blame you.”

At the pained look still present in Cas’ eyes, Dean realized that carrying guilt around seemed to be Cas’ thing, even though the angel hadn’t showed it too much over the years, or at least not enough for Dean to have picked up on that particular trait. But Dean had had a sneak peek into the angel’s mind and actually felt Cas’ guilt from all the things the angel had done in the past as his own.

Dean could understand it, he really did, mostly because he could easily relate to bottling shit up like that, but it still hurt to realize just how much Cas still beat himself over the things from the past. Dean really wished he could take it all away, that he could somehow convince Cas that none of that had really been his fault, or for the ones that had, that it was all gone and in the past, that all was forgotten and forgiven, at least to Dean. However, he knew that convincing Cas of all that was pretty much impossible. Maybe he would find the nerve to talk to Cas about it at some point, but right now certainly wasn’t the right time for that, so Dean filed it away for later.

“We’ll deal with it, alright? We’ll find a way, because that’s what we do.” Dean wasn’t sure where all that confidence was coming from, but he allowed it to slip into his voice with no resistance, trying to convince Cas, as well as himself, that there was a way out of this; that they could fix this, whatever the hell that meant.

“I do not know how,” The hint of fear in the angel’s voice making Dean’s heart ache once more, “The spell did not work, Dean. I performed it perfectly, I had all the ingredients necessary, I even—” Cas made a sound that sounded a little too much like choking and abruptly looked down, which had Dean quickly perking up in alarm.

“You even what, Cas?” Dean instantly felt uneasy, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t like whatever he was about to hear, but he knew he needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Cas whispered, still not looking up at Dean for some reason. The angel was shaking his head lightly from one side to the other, such a subtle movement it was almost hard to notice it, “I… I know I should not have done it, but I did not have a choice, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Cas?” Could he just stop being cryptic already?

Finally, Cas raised his head to look at Dean, his eyes filled with regret, so much it was actually a little surprising. “The spell required the blood of the bonded pair, Dean.”

And now Dean was frowning. Suddenly the gash on Cas’ arm made sense, but the rest of it didn’t. “How did you have my blood?” Dean didn’t mean for his words to come out as harsh as they did, but he didn’t exactly try to stop it.

“I extracted some, a small vial of it, while you were unconscious.”

Well, that explained the empty vial Dean had found in the living room. Rubbing a hand over his stubble once again, a nervous habit he now realized he really should work on, Dean found he had to look away from Cas. The idea of Cas getting blood from him to use for the spell didn’t sit right with him at all, although it wasn’t exactly the fact that Cas had used it on the spell itself that bothered him; Dean had used his blood on spell several times before.

No, it all came back to the fact that Cas had freaking _left_ and not given him even a single word of explanation, not even a note, and now Dean knew that he had even gotten some blood from him without Dean even knowing about it, hadn't even thought to stick around and ask for it, to explain to Dean what exactly had happened. It all just felt _wrong_ , leaving a bitter taste in Dean’s mouth. He felt almost betrayed, used, and he hated that feeling.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I should not have—”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t,” Dean almost winced at just how sharp the words sounded, how sour they felt on his tongue. Sure, he wasn’t exactly mad about the blood, but at Cas’ little escapade, but that wasn’t exactly the focus of the conversation right now, so Dean hurried to get back on track. They would talk about the rest later. They had something else that needed their immediate attention right now, so they’d better focus on that. “So, the spell didn’t work. Is that the only way around this?”

Cas was silent for a moment, Dean guessed because he was unsure what to make of the sudden edge on Dean’s voice, or the clear change of subject. He was quiet for so long Dean actually looked back at the angel, only to find Cas was hunched over his own self, as if trying to make himself look smaller as he stared down at his hands where they still rested on his lap. The angel looked so small like that, so vulnerable and overall regretful that Dean’s anger actually faded a little at the sight, his heart growing heavier in his chest. He actually felt a little like a jerk right now, even if maybe he shouldn’t. Cas had really thought he was doing the right thing at the time, and Dean was being nothing but harsh with him. Still, Dean couldn’t find it in himself to apologize, couldn’t form the words for it. He was still mad, still felt betrayed for the way Cas had left him, and he doubted that would fade too soon.

“I cannot think of any other way to break the bond, and attempting to break it again might end up killing both of us,” Cas finally announced.

Well, that was just great. How else would they—

“Maybe we don’t need to break it,” Dean provided carefully, an idea forming in his mind. It was risky to bet on something so uncertain, he knew that, but it was all he could think of. It was a risk he was willing to take, he realized, as startling as that notion might be.

“Dean, the bond might kill you. We cannot—”

“It’s not the bond itself that might kill me, Cas, it’s your Grace. Or rather, your burning out borrowed Grace. The bond is dulling the Mark and healing you, Cas, it’s not doing something bad. The two things working against us here are the Mark and your Grace fading, but maybe we can fix one of those.”

Cas seemed genuinely confused at those words as he finally looked back up at Dean, frowning and tilting his head to the side. “How would we fix them, Dean? We have not found a single mention of a cure for the Mark, and I refuse to have another angel die in my place, so I do not see a way to fix either.”

“No angel has to die,” Dean was shaking his head vigorously now, desperate for Cas to understand that maybe there was a way out of this.

“I do not understand what you’re implying.”

It was clear in Dean’s head now, what they had to do. If they managed to do this, then a big portion of their problem was solved, the only thing remaining would be the Mark.

“What if we find your Grace? Your actual Grace?”

It made perfect sense. The Mark was trying to burn out Cas’ Grace to turn Dean, but his original Grace would not burn out, so the Mark wouldn't be able to take over while they were bonded. They just had to find Cas' Grace.

A parade of different emotions flashed through Cas’ face. Surprise, disbelief, sadness—Dean saw it all, and a bit more. Yet again, Dean wished he could get a hold of what Cas was thinking, to try and understand what the angel was feeling in that moment, because his silent response was heavy and filled Dean with an odd anxiety, a desire to be able to read him somehow.

“Dean, I do not even know if there is any of my Grace left. We cannot rely on that.”

Dean could work with that. He had worked with much less than ‘I don’t knows’ in the past, and he was determined to make this work. He and Sam would find a way. They had been busy with the Mark for months now, so much they hadn’t been at all helpful with the matter of Cas’ Grace, and that realization made Dean feel awful. It was time to change that, he decided.

“What if there is some left, Cas?” Dean asked, hearing his eagerness pouring heavily into his own voice, any of his previous bitterness now completely gone, replaced by hope and excitement, “Would there be any way of tracking it?”

Cas was already shaking his head, even before Dean was done talking, “Only if we had a portion of it, which we don’t. There are no remains of it within this body. Metatron took it all from me.”

Sure, they didn’t have a portion of Cas’ original Grace, but Dean wasn’t going to let the angel’s lack of confidence shoot down his plan. “Like you and Sam did with Gadreel’s Grace, right?” They had told him about that, the whole idea of it making Dean shudder once again, but it was already something, and he was glad to have something to hold onto for a change, a possible plan to follow. It would be nice if Cas could share even just a tiny little bit of his hope, though.

Cas had explained to him about a year ago that a part of an angel’s Grace always stayed behind after they took on a human vessel, but Cas had always worn Jimmy Novak as far as Dean knew. At least that’s what—

“Claire,” Dean breathed out, earning a startled glance from Cas, “You used Claire’s body too that time when we met Jimmy’s family in Illinois. Shouldn’t some of your Grace have stayed in her?” It was completely possible. If they could get the Grace from Claire, then they could use it to track down Cas’ original Grace. If they could get Claire to agree to that, that was, but she didn’t hate Cas anymore like she used to, so maybe she would—

“No.” Cas’ tone was unwavering, his voice suddenly strong and determined, a stark contrast from how tired and pretty much defeated his voice had sounded not one minute ago. Dean knew that tone well, and he immediately knew what Cas was doing. He didn’t want to put Claire through what Sam had gone through when Cas had gotten Gadreel's Grace out of his brother, because apparently the process of removing Angel Grace from a previous vessel was pretty painful and overall a terrible experience to said vessel (Sam had only gone into a little bit of detail after a lot of probing from Dean, and even then he didn’t explain too much), but the other option here was letting Cas _die_ , and Dean wasn’t going to let that happen.

Dean had been about to voice just that, when Cas cut him off. “Cas—”

“It’s been too long, and I only inhabited her body for a very short time. Just as there are no remains of Lucifer’s Grace in Sam today, there should be nothing left of my Grace in Claire Novak.”

Dean actually froze at that, previous words forgotten as his eyebrows rose in shock. Did Cas mean to say that for some time, there _had_ been some of Lucifer’s Grace in Sam?

Whatever he had been thinking must have shown on his face, or maybe Cas was just really good at reading him, because the angel hurried to add, “Yes, some of Lucifer’s Grace remained in Sam for some time after I raised him from the Cage, but it has long since faded, Dean, I can assure you that. When I removed Gadreel’s Grace from him, there were no remains of it within his body.”

Dean actually let out a sigh of relief at those words. “But Claire…?”

Cas shook his head slowly at that. “Lucifer is an archangel, Dean. He used Sam as a vessel for far longer than I did with Claire, and I took Claire over a year before. If Lucifer’s Grace is gone from Sam’s body, I cannot imagine it would be any different with Claire.”

Dean nodded numbly at that, accepting Cas was actually being truthful about that. It really did make sense when Cas put it that way. “Okay, then we find another way.”

Cas frowned at Dean once more. “Dean, I don’t—”

“Cas, don’t,” Dean snapped, not even caring that the words came out a little too harsh, “What other option do we have? And even if we do break the soul bond, what happens next, huh? You will still die, because your Grace will still burn out eventually. You fucking _die_ , Cas! That’s what happens!”

Cas looked away, gazing down at his hands once more. “Perhaps that would be best.”

Dean was too shocked to respond immediately. He actually had to go through those words a few times in his head to actually process their meaning, and even then, he couldn’t accept what he had just heard, couldn't believe Cas had actually said them. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered the bowl he had found in the living room when he’d first found this cabin, as well as the form of Cas slumped down on the floor after ‘draining his Grace to the last drop of power’ with the spell he had tried to perform. So Cas _had_ tried to kill himself with that spell?

“You knew you would die, didn’t you?” Dean asked, his voice strained, even to his own ears, just a broken, pained whisper. He wasn’t trying to hide his shock or anger, he didn't want to hide it, because Cas had to hear it, “When you tried to break the bond, you knew it would drain you. You fucking _knew_.” It wasn’t a question.

Cas still refused to look up at Dean as he answered, with a voice so low Dean could barely hear it, “Yes.”

Dean didn’t even realize he was moving until he had already reached out and grabbed Cas’ head, forcing the angel to turn it to the side and look up to meet his eyes. He didn’t remove them after that, allowing them to linger each on one of Cas’ cheeks, holding the angel’s face in his direction in case Cas tried to turn away again and making the angel stare into his eyes as he spoke.

“Don’t you ever dare to try something like that again, Cas,” Dean bit out, his voice trembling again, shaking with anger and disbelief, but for a whole difference reason than before. How the hell could Cas even… Why did he… How _could_ he… “Cas, do you hear me?” Because he needed Cas to get it; he _needed_ to make Cas see it.

Cas’ eyes were wide with surprise. He clearly hadn’t been expecting a reaction like that out of Dean, and he seemed unsure of how to respond. He just stared instead of speaking, those wide blue eyes looking almost fearful as they stared into Dean’s angered, almost panicked green ones.

“I can’t…” Dean’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his throat clogged, his voice too weak and low, so he swallowed once, though it barely helped, “I can’t lose you, Cas.”

Cas’ eyes softened at that, and he let out a small, shaky breath. “I thought you would hate me,” Cas whispered, “I was afraid to face you, and I thought maybe…”

Dean knew that wasn’t the entire thing; he knew Cas was hiding a part of it. The angel might have been afraid to face Dean, but that hadn’t been the sole reason why he would be okay with dying. Dean had seen his memories; he knew all the guilt Cas kept bottle up inside of himself for all these years.

But Dean knew this wasn’t the time for that conversation. He, too, had a bunch of crap stashed away in his mind that he would rather not talk about, so he knew what that felt like, and if Cas didn’t want to talk about it, Dean would respect that. Maybe eventually they would talk about it, but definitely not now.

No, right now he had to convince Cas to not ever do something like that again. _Ever._

“Cas, I could never hate you.” Dean was being completely honest, even though the actual truth in those words was scary for him. Even today, after all these years, it was almost worrying just how much he cared for Cas, and just how much he was willing to forgive the angel simply for being _Cas._ “You should have talked to me, Cas. You shouldn’t have left. I was so freaked out when I realized you were gone.”

Cas swallowed visibly at that, moving his gaze down once more, which made Dean pull back his hands slowly, letting them fall onto the soft mattress at his side. “I apologize for that. I did not know what to do. I guess you could say I was not thinking clearly.”

“Yeah, well, but you could at least have picked up your phone,” Dean couldn’t help but allow a hint of bitterness to slip into his voice. He had worried and wondered about Cas for weeks without hearing a single word from the angel, so he assumed he had the right to do that. “I had no idea where you were or why you left, Cas, _none._ Do you have any idea what that felt like? I thought you regretted it, Cas. I thought you…” He couldn’t find it in himself to finish that, instead allowing his voice to trail off until it faded at the last word, leaving his unfinished sentence hanging in the air.

“I’m sorry,” Cas’ voice was so broken it was actually a shock. He had never seen Cas like this, so open and emotional. Dean wasn’t used to this side of Cas, and it pained him to hear the struggle in the angel’s voice, “I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I…” The angel’s voice sounded strangled, so he swallowed once more as he shook his head. He looked up a second later, his blue eyes so pained and raw with regret that Dean was actually rendered speechless. “You have no idea how much I regret leaving you, Dean. I regretted it the moment I drove out of that town. But I forced myself to continue, even if all I wanted was to turn back and return to you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Dean heard his voice break, but he honestly didn’t care. He didn’t care that in that moment he was raw and open for Cas to see, the most he had ever been in his entire life in front of someone else other than his brother, and even then it had been different, it had never been like this. And that was exactly the point, because it was _Cas_ that made him feel that way, comfortable enough to show so much emotion.

“I was too scared to. But now I wish I had.”

Dean was still mad at Cas for leaving, he had to admit that, because Cas could have made things so much easier. Cas had almost died because of his stupid idea that leaving would be better. Dean had gone into a spiral of worrying and wondering that had almost driven him mad because Cas had left without a trail. But now they were here, and Cas was alive, and was it really worth it to keep stressing over it now, after everything that Dean now knew? After almost _losing_ Cas?

“Just, never do that again, alright? I don’t really feel like hunting you down to a freaking mountain again anytime soon.” Dean smiled lightly, and he knew it probably looked a little forced and weak, a futile attempt at humor, but it was all he could manage at that moment.

It was a relief to hear Cas chuckle lightly in response, the sound instantly draining some of the tension Dean could still so clearly feel in his muscles.

And in that moment, with the sunlight from late morning slipping into the room and shining over Cas’ face, making the blue in his eyes looked even clearer than usual, with the angel’s hair even messier than it normally was and a very serious stubble covering his jaw, with the angel wearing his clothes and staring at him with such intense eyes, Dean found himself deciding it definitely wasn’t worth it to be angry anymore. He didn’t _want_ to be angry, and for the first time in his life, he actually listened to the voice in the back of his head telling him just that.

Something shifted in Cas’ eyes, as if the angel knew exactly what he was thinking, and maybe he did, with the soul bond and all. Or maybe he was just good at reading Dean, which was also very much true; he had made that very much clear over the years. However, there was a hint of hesitation in the angel’s gaze, maybe even sadness or regret, as the angel glanced down to Dean’s mouth. He hastily looked away only a second later, as if he wasn’t allowed to do it.

The message was clear, Cas might as well have written it down for Dean to read. Cas thought Dean was still mad at him and would push him away. He couldn’t be more wrong about that, however, because the single thought that Cas actually wanted this, wanted _him_ , was already enough to have Dean’s stomach fluttering, as girly and cheesy as that might sound.

But of course, because he was Dean freaking Winchester, he just had to ask. He had to make sure, because it was still too hard for him to believe Cas might actually want him this way; the idea was still surreal in his mind, even after everything they had already done, and the fact that Cas had walked out on him after their night together wasn’t helping at all.

“Did you really mean that? Everything you said that night?” Because he had to know. After Cas bailing on him and this whole soul bond thing, Dean had to know where they stood, because it was all just so unclear in his head right now.

“Of course I did, Dean,” Cas actually sounded offended, his eyes making his surprise at the question evident, “I meant each and every word I said.” Those words sounded too surreal to Dean's ears, but the angel sounded so truthful, so pleading as he said them without even the barest hint of hesitation, that Dean knew, without a doubt, that Cas was being completely honest.

It was Dean’s turn to look away now. He cleared his throat before speaking again this time, because he just knew his voice would fail him the next time he tried to talk. “Well, where does that leave us, then?”

Dean was prepared for anything at this point, though he knew what he really wanted. He wanted Cas; he wanted to hear the angel tell him that he still wanted him, like he had claimed to in Omaha. He wanted to be the luckiest bastard in the world to actually be able to call Cas his. But if Cas didn’t want him, if them being involved made this bond thing even more complicated than it already was, Dean would have to respect that. He had kept his feelings for Cas buried deep and hidden away from years, so he knew he could do that again, as much as he knew that would hurt. It was different this time, though, he was aware of that. They'd had sex, and that kind of made things harder, but Dean would do it for Cas, he would lock away his feelings and go back to ignoring them the same way he had done for so long, if that was what the angel truly wanted.

A hand appeared in his vision without a warning, resting against his cheek and making his head turn to the side as Cas mirrored his actions from earlier, a wordless request for Dean to look up and meet his gaze, which Dean did with a brief moment of hesitation.

“I want this, Dean,” Cas' tone was so strong and confident he might as well be giving out a speech. There was a hint of pleading to it as well, like he feared Dean might not believe him. “I want this, _you_ , more than anything.”

That was really all Dean had wished to hear for years now, but that he'd so strongly believed he never would. And yet here Cas was, saying those words like he believed them completely, without a single hint of doubt in his voice. Dean's stomach flipped around as he let out a breath of what he could only define as pure relief at those words, for a second not really sure how to process them, their meaning failing to sink in at first. He could barely believe it, but that wasn't exactly a surprise. It was still too unreal for him, the thought that Cas could actually want him.

While his mind failed to completely catch up to what was happening, however, his body was already responding, moving forward so he could touch Cas’ lips with his own.

It was a short, shy kiss, so different from what they had done before in Omaha, just a gentle brush of lips, but it was still enough to cause a smile to spread over Dean’s lips.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, then.” Dean wasn't sure how he managed the words, how he was able to actually let out something completely coherent in that moment, but somehow he did.

Cas smiled genuinely in response, such a beautiful sight that had Dean searching for his lips once more, this time starting a longer kiss. His lips danced over Cas’, mapping out the angel’s chapped lips as their stubble rubbed against each other’s, tickling a little as their mouths moved. Dean sighed at the feeling he had pretty much craved over the course of the past few weeks, the taste he couldn’t quite get enough of, the same one he’d recalled in his mind more times than he’d allow himself to admit during the time they’d spent apart after Omaha, wondering how the hell he’d gone so long without it before.

It was still a slow kiss, just a careful slide of mouths and eventual brush of tongues. Dean did not let it go further than that, still feeling like maybe they had rushed a little bit too much last time and no matter how good this might feel, they should probably slow down for now. Cas apparently agreed with him, because he didn’t try to push to anything, just followed Dean’s lead as they kissed, his hand coming up to cup Dean’s cheek and caress the skin with his thumb in such a tender, gentle way only Cas seemed able to manage, but never deepening the kiss, never allowing it to develop into something more.

When they pulled away, Dean realized that at some point Cas had scooted closer to him, which allowed the angel to lower his head to bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, his arms coming up behind the hunter to hold him in place. Dean actually smiled a little at that, wrapping his own arms around the smaller form of the angel as he kissed the top of Cas’ head, feeling the angel’s unruly hair tickling his nose as he did, before he began to run his fingers through the soft, wild locks. In response, Cas brushed his lips against the skin of Dean's neck. It was not at all sexual, the touch nothing but light and brief, but still enough to make Dean's skin tingle, a content sigh escaping his lips. 

For the minutes that followed, Dean just held Cas, feeling the way the angel gripped him tightly, as if afraid he might push him away or maybe disappear in the thin air somehow. It was in that moment that Dean realized that while he had been having a bad time with this, he hadn’t even thought about how Cas had been feeling. Sure, Cas had been the one that bailed on him back in Omaha, but it looked like Cas hadn’t had it easy since then. Well, he had almost died, so maybe he was entitled to.

They only broke apart when the sound of a stomach that wasn’t Dean’s growling echoed through the air of the room.

“You hungry?” Dean asked as he pulled away so he could get a good look at Cas’ face while he spoke.

The angel gave him an almost sheepish look as he nodded. “It would appear so.”

Dean swallowed drily at the thought that if Cas was sleeping and eating, then the bond really wasn’t enough to heal his Grace completely, but he pushed that thought away as quickly as it came. At least now there was color in Cas’ cheeks and he was awake, without a fever, so Dean would hold onto that for the time being. They would find a way to fix this, but for now, he should probably feed Cas. That he could do right now.

“Well, I went into town yesterday and got some stuff. You up for some late breakfast?”

The smile that broke out on Cas’ lips at those words instantly made Dean feel better. He really wished to see that more often.

At the angel's nod, Dean got to his feet, pulling Cas along with him as the pair left the room, headed for the kitchen.

Cas was still smiling when they got there, just a tiny little tug at the angel’s lips, but that was enough to have Dean respond with a smile of his own.

***~*~*~*~***

_Claimed._

_Dean’s soul was claimed._

Everything around them seemed to stop at those words, because Sam knew _exactly_ what they meant. A soul claim was something both Dean and Sam understood all too well, just as what its presence actually meant. They were pretty much experts on the subject by now, after everything they’d been through over the years. Sam’s hands curled into fists in anger at hisi sides, shaking with the force of his rage, because he just knew Crowley must be the one behind this. Even if they did manage to cure Dean of the Mark, Crowley still wanted to have Dean in Hell. The _bastard…_

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself, Moose,” Crowley lifted his hands, standing up from his chair. It must have been obvious that Sam was about to pounce on him at any second, even if the hunter might not be able to do much damage to the demon with his bare hands, not even with a gun. But he would find a way, he always did, and Crowley knew that way too well. “It’s not what you think.”

“How can it not be what I think, Crowley?” Sam stepped closer to Crowley, not even bothering to lower his voice and letting all anger he was feeling inside himself to slip into his words, “Because to me it sounds like you did something to get my brother in Hell, _again_!” Sam was seeing red, which gave him the boldness he needed to feel into his coat and pull out the Angel Blade he always kept there.

“As if,” Crowley shook his head, his calm demeanor wavering just slightly as he spoke. It was just a tiny, barely there change, a hint of something that might not even be enough to be considered nervousness, but it was still there, and Sam was glad to hear it. “I had nothing to do with it, Sam, because that claim surely was not made from a deal or anything of the sort.”

Maybe it was the use of his actual name and not hearing the word ‘Moose’, or maybe it was the last part, perhaps even the actually nervousness that had suddenly become clear in Crowley's voice and that by the end of his speech grew a lot closer to fear than Sam would have ever thought possible to hear from the demon. Whatever it was, Sam found himself stopping and actually waiting to listen before he tried to stab Crowley right then and there. Still, the Angel Blade was still tightly gripped in his hand, ready for use if he felt the need to.

“Then how is it there?”

Crowley actually let out a sigh at that, but this time he did not look at all annoyed. No, the demon actually looked tired, which was so unlike him that Sam actually did a double take, briefly wondering if his eyes could somehow be deceiving him. He had a feeling not even Crowley was happy with this new development, whatever it was, and that said a lot. Or maybe there was something else, Sam couldn’t know. Maybe he was having problems in Hell; that certainly wouldn’t be news to him.

“I can feel when a soul is out of my reach, Moose. Yours isn’t, just as the pretty little redhead’s over there isn’t as well.” From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Charlie tensing up at the acknowledgement of her presence by the demon. It was just then that he realized he wasn't standing between them anymore, so he stepped to the side to correct that. “But Dean’s? I couldn’t touch his soul even if I tried. No demon can.”

“What does that even mean?” Couldn’t Crowley just stop being cryptic for once? Sam allowed his hold to tighten around the blade, honestly considering stabbing the demon just for being awfully annoying now.

“The claim is not demonic, Samantha,” Sam frowned in confusion at those words, his mind not quite catching up to Crowley’s words, “It’s angelic.”

Instantly, Sam’s mind went back a few years to the time when Balthazar had actually bought the soul of a little boy, Aaron Birch, in exchange for a piece of the Staff of Moses. That had been the first time they had ever heard of an angel actually claiming a human soul in any way. Although unheard of, that incident had proven it possible, but fortunately, the idea hadn't become popular somehow. They hadn’t heard anything like it again after that. At least not until now…

“So you’re saying that an angel claimed Dean’s soul?” Sam’s mind was already going through all the angels they knew that were still alive, but he couldn’t think of one specific angel that would do something of that sort, except for maybe Metraton, but that particular douchebag was stuck in Heaven’s prison for eternity and couldn’t possibly be behind this, so it had to be someone else. But who?

“It’s not that simple. To be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it before, though I have heard about it. It’s not simply just a claim.” Crowley walked over to the session of the library where all the books were on display on their shelves, now apparently convinced that Sam wouldn’t just attack him with the blade and apparently feeling confident enough about it to turn his back at the hunter. Of course, Sam knew that did not in any way mean that Crowley’s guard was down.

The demon scanned the titles of the books with squinted eyes, his expression of almost disdain as he read over a few of the names. “It’s a soul bond.”

That was actually enough to make Sam freeze, a frown of confusion taking over his brows. “A soul bond? What does that even mean?”

Crowley, much to Sam’s annoyance, shrugged, like it really was no big deal when every single word he said showed the exact opposite of that. The bastard didn’t even look away from the books, just threw the words over his shoulder, like he wasn’t all that interested in the current conversation, or maybe was just pretending not to be. Considering his presence here, Sam believed the case to be the latter.

“It’s kind of complicated. It’s an angel thing, really, so not my department at all. You’re going to have to ask Squirrel or that giraffe of an angel about it.”

“Well, Cas is pretty much out of reach right now, and Dean is still in the wind, thanks to you.”

If possible, Crowley’s smirk got even wider at that. “Well, a little birdie tells me that they might be in the same location.”

 _Oh._ So was that why Dean had taken off? Had he gone after Cas? Now that Sam thought about it, maybe Hannah’s comments about Cas’ condition might have been the reason why Dean had simply left without a word. But why go on his own? Why couldn't he have just told Sam about wanting to go look for Cas, so that Sam could go with him? Why make a run for it in the middle of night? “So Dean found Cas?”

“I guess you can thank the soul bond for that.”

And that, right there, had Sam’s eyebrows going up to his forehead as he finally put the pieces together in his head. “Dean's soul is bonded to _Cas'_?”

Apparently that was enough to get Crowley to actually look away from the books and straightened back up, a glint clear in his eyes, as if this whole thing was actually hilarious to him, when Sam couldn’t find anything funny about it at all. The sight made Sam feel uneasy, like there was something he was missing here, a detail he might have overlooked somehow.

“Congratulations, Moose, you finally figured it out. Well, part of it, anyway.”

 _Part of it_ , Sam's mind repeated, only confirming what Sam had already guessed on his own. He didn't know everything.

He had to think about this rationally. So Cas had put a _claim_ in Dean’s soul? They were _bonded_ now? Sam couldn’t understand what that meant, couldn’t even begin to process it, but he still managed to ask, “But how could something like that even happen?” He tried to think of any scenario that could bring something like that on, but he honestly couldn’t think of any, mostly because his mind failed to provide him a good explanation of what a soul bond truly was. His thoughts were racing and he couldn’t even begin to make any sense out of them.

The expression on the demon’s face told Sam that he really was missing something. Crowley looked highly amused, that annoying smirk insistently lingering on his lips as he studied Sam, like he was waiting for him to realize something that might as well be written on his face, and the fact that Sam didn’t know what he was implying seemed completely hilarious to him.

“It was accidental, as far as I can tell,” Crowley finally explained, the glint in his eyes still very much present and obvious. What was he hiding here? What was so damn hilarious that Crowley looked like a freaking kid on Christmas morning? What was Sam missing here?

Sam wanted to demand answers from him, but he knew beforehand just how badly that would turn out. The only way to get answers out of Crowley was if the demon was willing to give them, or at least negotiate a trade if they had him cuffed to a chair and stuck inside a Devil's Trap in the Bunker’s dungeon with no other choice but to listen to their terms. But neither one of those scenarios was true right now.

“Don’t worry that big, hairy head of yours, Moose. You’ll know the rest of the story soon enough, trust me. All you need to know for now is that the Mark doesn’t like the soul bond, and it’s… fighting it, currently. _That_ is your problem.”

And with that, he was gone.

Sam cursed as soon as the demon vanished, trying to even his breathing. A soul bond? Between Dean and Cas? Crowley said it was accidental, but how had it happened in the first place? And _when_? Cas hadn’t been talking to them for weeks now. He couldn’t come up with a time when something like that could have happened.

Sam had never even heard of a soul bond or anything like it before, let alone of something of that sort happening accidentally. And the Mark… was it making Dean’s condition worse because of it? Was that the reason behind the attacks Dean had been having during the last couple of days? Dean _had_ mentioned the Mark had been more active lately… Was this the reason for it?

Could the Mark be killing him faster, somehow? It sounded like it, from what Crowley had said. And did Dean know about it? And how could this bond have helped Dean find Cas? How did something like that even work? Sam’s head was spinning with so many unanswered questions, but the more the thought about them, the more questions popped up, doubts piling up in his head with every passing second.

“Sam?”

Sam was actually surprised at the sound of Charlie’s voice, startled to realize that she was still in the room. He had been so lost in his own head that he had pretty much forgotten she was there at all. It was the first time in a long time she had talked, though, so maybe he had a reason to be startled. She had gone silent the moment Crowley showed up, and she had been completely right to do that. Honestly, Sam had once hoped Charlie and Crowley would never meet, but this was their life, and nothing went according to plan. It would be weird if it did at this point.

“Are you okay?” Charlie’s voice was tentative, almost like she was stepping on eggs around Sam, like she felt she should tread carefully, and that made Sam realize that maybe he was being a little scary. But maybe he was entitled to, anyway. He _was_ freaking out a little over here.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. He shook his head, trying to clear up his thoughts, although that didn't help at all. He had to do something, had to somehow figure out what exactly they were dealing with here. Looking over to the table, he came to a conclusion. He had no idea what any of this meant—a soul bond between Dean and Cas, the Mark’s reaction to it, all of it. But he knew of one way to try and understand all of this, if only just partially: research. “I really need to read through a few books for this.”

There was something to Charlie’s expression that hadn’t been there before; a shadow that just looked… wrong on her usually chipper and cheery self. Sam filed it away under feeling weird after meeting the King of Hell for the first time, but somehow he knew there was something else to it. It was almost like she was considering something, calculating even, but Sam had no idea what that could be about. He was probably reading too much into it, anyway. Charlie knew just about as much as he did about this whole thing, and maybe she was also going through her own doubts in her head. This whole story was just a lot to take in at once.

“I’ll help,” she finally announced. Her smile was weak and maybe a little forced, but Sam knew that was all he would get from her right now.

Still, as they both sat in silence in the Bunker's library later on, Charlie furiously typing away at her computer and Sam scanning all the shelves for any books that might have something on angelic claims or soul bonds of any sort, Sam couldn’t push away the nagging feeling in the back of his mind telling him that there was something more to the way a shadow had taken over Charlie’s features, to how her eyes had grown deeply worried after Crowley had stopped by, to how quickly and heavily her demeanor had changed. The feeling he’d gotten when Crowley had been here, the one so insistently telling him that there was something he was not being told, was back with full force, and although he really wanted to just call it paranoia, a part of him for some reason just couldn’t ignore it.

There was something he didn’t know, something he was failing horribly to see.

What was he missing here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Sam, you have no idea...
> 
> So, Dean and Cas *finally* talked! Isn't that a miracle? XD They still have a lot to talk about, though, and there might be things even Castiel doesn't know or cannot for some reason realize... ;) And is that really all he knows, anyway? ;P
> 
> Also, I'm a little worried that some things in this chapter weren't clear enough. I did everything I could not to let it get too confusing, but this chapter just presents a lot of information, and I'm afraid that maybe something wasn't explained well enough. Please, feel free to ask questions if you find anything confusing. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I come bearing gifts! ;D
> 
> So, this is the longest chapter so far. Over 19k words. Even I don't know how that happened. XD
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! :)

“So, was that all of them?” Dean asked from where he stood with a damp rag in his hand, eyeing the living room around him, looking for any other symbols he didn’t recognize and that he thought might not belong to the warding.

Cas’ eyes were careful as he eyed the room, examining each one of the remaining symbols on the wall with a concetrated frown on his brows for almost a full minute before finally announcing, “Yes.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief at the word, happy that the work was done for now. He had been working on this for the past three hours, getting rid of all the symbols that had been painted on the walls to block the effects of the soul bond outside of the cabin, since there was no need for them anymore, now that Dean knew everything.

Cas had explained that he had tried to numb the effects of the bond on Dean’s side on his own at first, but that had become too much for him after the encounter with the demons, so he had painted some Enochian symbols on the cabin walls to do it for him, but that idea apparently hadn’t worked perfectly. Of course, Dean hadn’t been able to properly feel the bond until he got to this cabin—or at least not as strongly and clearly as he could now—but he had still gotten a few glimpses inside Cas’ head, even all the way in Lebanon.

But there was no need for numbing it now, so Dean had gotten to work as soon as Cas had gotten some food in his system.

He had been adamant about not letting Cas help with erasing the symbols, because the angel had almost died and still needed to rest, even if he insisted he was fine. Cas had actually put up a bit of a fight about how he was perfectly fine to help, but Dean had won in the end and managed to get Cas to sit on the couch while the angel watched him work to scrub the walls free of white paint.

Many symbols remained, though, and Dean knew they would have to get rid of them eventually, when they left this place. But for now, while they were still using the cabin, the wards should stay in place, just for safety. Cas had mentioned the soul bond wouldn’t make Heaven happy at all, so the symbols that hid them from angels should really stay for the time being. Dean really didn't want to take any risks.

“So,” Dean dumped the rag into the bucket of dirty water a few steps to the side, making a mental note to take care of that later and eyeing the angel carefully, trying to notice if there was anything that might give away any hints about the angel’s current state, “How are you feeling?”

“I am… better,” Cas responded calmly, not sounding entirely sure, more like he was testing the word out on his tongue, deciding if it was appropriate, “When I woke up, I still felt weak, but I am certainly stronger than I was earlier.”

Well, that was truly a relief, although Dean knew Cas was probably not entirely fine, not after almost dying last night. He chose not to point that out, though, asking instead, “Is it because of the bond?”

Cas nodded lightly, “I would imagine so.”

Dean swallowed, choosing not to reply, because Cas didn't seem too relieved to acknowledge the fact that the bond was helping him. He still felt guilty about forming the bond in the first place; that much was very clear. Dean knew Cas was still considering breaking this bond because of his still burning out Grace and the Mark doing everything it could to make the situation even more complicated, and Dean would let him do that for now, but he couldn’t deny the fact that he was thankful for the help the bond was providing in the matter of healing Cas’ Grace, even if just partially. It was keeping Cas alive, and that was definitely good in Dean’s book. Plus, it was making the Mark easier to control, so that was also something pretty convenient.

“What else is it doing, though?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. They hadn’t yet talked this through, he realized now that he thought about it. The surprise of finding out about the soul bond in the first place had all but clouded Dean’s thoughts a little, but now his mind was clearer and he could process things better, so he assumed it was time they discussed this better. “I mean, I know it’s recharging your Grace, projecting moods and stuff and giving us glimpses of each other's minds, but… is that it?”

Cas looked down at that, which was enough of an answer for Dean. So there was more to it, then. “I do not know much about a bond like ours, Dean, we were never told much more than the fact that it was forbidden,” Well, that certainly wasn’t a surprise, “But I do know a few things.”

Well, that was a start. “What things?”

“Firstly, I believe I should tell you that the bond will not allow you to age.”

Dean swallowed drily at those words, though he wasn’t too surprised. He hadn’t been aging since he’d taken on the Mark of Cain a year ago, so this wasn’t too much for him just yet. It was still a little scary, though, but he forced himself to swallow the feeling down for now. He could worry about that later on, when they didn't have so many other issues demanding their immediate attention. He nodded lightly, forcing the words out, “Alright, what else?”

“You will also heal faster, and from wounds that would easily kill a human. My Grace will do anything it can to protect you.”

“So, supernatural healing, basically.” Well, that would come in handy, Dean was sure of that.

"Something of that sort, yes," Cas nodded in response. “That is all I know about the effects the bond will have on you, apart from what I have already told you concerning Heaven and the mental link. However, there might be more. Our bond is not like any other I am aware of. I'm convinced nothing of this sort has ever happened before, at least not like this, and perhaps my Grace is too weak now to allow any other possible change to manifest.”

“But there have been others?” Dean remembered Cas saying it was impossible before, but now he was making it sound like their bond was not the first one of its kind.

“There have, although under circumstances so different from ours that there is not much to compare.”

Well, way to be cryptic, Cas. “How different?”

“Well, most importantly, those bonds were forced onto the humans that were bound. They required a ritual to be formed, a very complicated one. And even then, the bond would be almost… precarious. The connection was weak, fragile and easily broken. Ours is much stronger, so much the spell was not able to break it.”

“So I’m assuming ours could have consequences the others didn’t.” It wasn’t exactly a question.

Cas still nodded, though, “Exactly.”

Well, the doubt of it was a little unsettling, but overall, everything Cas had told him so far didn’t seem like too much, nor was it as terrible as Cas seemed to be making this. “What about the effects on you?” Dean asked, having noticed how Cas had so far only mentioned effects the bond would have on him, and not on the angel.

“I know less about what the bond will do to me than to you, Dean. I actually knew almost nothing about it before we bonded. All I was aware of was that I could channel from your soul. Everything else I know right now is what I noticed that changed in myself.”

Dean nodded again, although more slowly this time, “Okay. What did you notice?”

“For starters, I can eat again.” There was this tiny hint of a smile on Cas’ lips that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean.

Dean frowned, though, because he had seen Cas eat before. Dean wasn’t aware he couldn’t eat; he had always just assumed he didn't need to, but could if he wanted, like the time the angel had devoured hundreds of burgers because of Famine. “Couldn’t you eat before?”

“I could,” Cas replied calmly, “What I mean is that I can taste food again.”

And Dean was still frowning. "Still not following, Cas."

"Angels cannot taste food as a whole, or at least not normally. Usually, if I attempted to eat anything, I would be able to feel every single molecule that made part of its structure, but I could never actually taste it. I was able to truly taste food in certain situations, however, like when I was cut off from the Host during the Apocalypse and when I was human." He smiled once again, a tiny little thing that had Dean doing the same thing in response, "And now."

"Does that mean the bond makes you more human somehow?" Because that's what it sounded like to Dean, and honestly, he wasn't sure what exactly he felt about it if that was the case.

Cas paused, like considering the words for the very first time. He didn't seem startled or worried, though, just intrigued, like that idea hadn't yet occurred to him, and by the looks of it, Dean was pretty sure it hadn't. “Perhaps. Everything feels… different, I would say.”

Dean frowned at the vagueness of the statement. “Different how?” he asked.

Cas shook his head lightly, his shoulders raising briefly in a weak shrug, for a moment looking unsure of how to voice whatever it was he was thinking. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I just feel different, somehow. Everything is… sharper than it’s ever been, more intense, much like when I was human, although not quite the same.”

“Huh,” Dean looked down at those words, unsure what to make of that. He wasn’t sure if Cas thought the change was good or bad, but he also couldn’t find it in himself to ask, so instead he decided to just change the subject to something that had been looming inside his head for a few hours now. “How can… I mean, how can the bond work, though? I mean, you don’t have _your_ Grace, right? How can I be bonded to you and not…?” _Whatever angel Crowley stole the Grace you’re using from,_ Dean wanted to say, but didn’t manage to get the words out.

Cas fortunately didn’t need Dean to elaborate that to understand what the hunter meant. “Every Grace I… absorb,” The pause was noticeable, as was the hesitation in the angel's voice, like he was ashamed to say the word out loud, “It mutates into a mirror of my own Grace, or else it would not be able to merge with my soul.”

“So you do have a soul,” Dean could not stop the words from flying out of his mouth, and then instantly realized just how wrong they sounded, so he hurried to add, almost stumbling over the words as he talked, “I mean, you said you didn’t have one, a few years ago.”

Cas swallowed, looking down. Damn it, Winchester. “Angels do have souls," Cas finally replied, "Although they work differently than human souls because of our Grace. The difference is so clear, however, that Heaven believed it convenient to teach us we had no souls, considering a soul is what allows humans to feel, so we would not feel compelled to try it. I started to question that notion once I started to feel, years ago, before the Apocalypse. Firstly, when I met Anna as a human, for I had not been aware of what exactly happened to an angel when we Fell, other than the fact that it was strictly forbidden. She wasn't completely human, however, so I could not be entirely sure what to understand from her condition. Soon, however, I started to Fall myself after being cut off from the Host, and I started to question that notion again, when I became something very close to a human. But I only realized I had been completely misguided when Metatron took my Grace, not leaving behind a single drop of it. Without Grace, we are completely human, that’s really the only difference. And once I had Grace again, instead of going away, the ability to feel remained as strong as it had been before. I did not believe it possible for thousands of years, but now I know I was taught wrongly. I do have a soul.”

Dean nodded lightly, accepting the explanation, as well as feeling a little bit like a jerk for asking the question in the first place. But Cas didn’t seem offended or anything, so maybe there was no reason for him to feel like that. The angel actually smiled a little as he talked, like he was relieved that he had been wrong about it all along, and honestly, Dean could easily understand why. “So, the Grace you have now is mutated to act like yours?”

The angel nodded once more. “Yes. Adina’s Grace barely resembles her original Grace now, it is much more like a… faded copy of my old Grace, you could say. Although the copy is not perfect, it could never be, and that fact makes it impossible for the Grace to recharge through my own soul like my original Grace would.”

Well, that did make sense, Dean supposed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck. “And I’m guessing the copy is also not perfect enough to use it to locate your old Grace?” Dean already knew the answer to the question, but he just had to ask.

Cas shook his head lightly, almost grimly, “It would not work.”

A heavy silence settled over them after that, and Dean found himself itching to say something about yet another subject that had been nagging at his mind since he’d found Cas in this cabin, though he couldn’t find a good way to approach the topic. It took him very close to ten minutes to actually get a few words out, during which he just stood there, pretending to concentrate on the symbols that still surrounded them on the walls.

Finally, Dean found it in him to break the silence. “Hey, Cas,” Dean began tentatively as he walked over to the couch, carefully taking a seat beside the angel.

Cas turned his head to the side to glance at Dean once more, snapping his attention back to the hunter as the angel seemed to come back from whatever place he had gone to inside his head, giving the human a look that clearly told him to go on, even though he didn’t say anything.

“Do you have anywhere to go in mind after this cabin?” Dean couldn’t find it in himself to go straight to the point, instead choosing to hope Cas would take the hint on his own.

But of course that wasn’t going to happen, because this was _Cas,_ oblivious as ever. “No,” the angel replied, frowning lightly in confusion, “I still have this cabin for over a week, and I could rent it again.”

Dean groaned lowly, earning a startled look from Castiel. Really, Cas? Was he really going to make Dean say it? It certainly looked that way. “Well, Cas, I was hoping you wouldn’t rent it again…” Was that enough of a hint? How exactly did you hint something like that to an extremely oblivious angel?

Cas’ confused frown got even more intense, and the sight would be adorable if it wasn’t just a tiny bit annoying at the moment. “Where would I stay, then?”

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. Yeah, he was going to have to spell it out, he had realized that by now. “I don’t know, Cas,” Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously as he leaned forward on his seat, though he did his best to avoid the angel’s inquiring gaze. Why the hell was this so hard? He felt like a freaking teenager asking out a girl all over again.  “Maybe… the Bunker?”

Dean winced at the silence that followed, soon enough growing sure that the angel would answer negatively. Maybe he didn’t want to go to the Bunker with Dean, because that was pretty much an equivalent of moving in together (it was, right?), and maybe Cas didn’t want that. Dean didn’t even know what exactly they were to each other (could Dean even call Cas his boyfriend? For some reason, that term didn’t sound right to him, although it might be the most accurate at the moment. Or was it? Dean had no idea, and that was actually freaking him out a little, to be honest), so was this taking it a step too far? Maybe a few dozen steps too far? Dean couldn’t know, and he couldn’t help but think maybe he had already screwed this up. Damn it, why couldn’t he just—

A pair of hands was suddenly lifting his head and turning it to the side, a movement that seemed to be growing rather common for them, Dean quickly noted. It was almost startling, just how easy this was for them, how natural it was for Dean to just lean into the angel's touch.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, a hint of a smile tugging the corner of the angel’s lips upwards, “I would love that, I truly would. But are you sure you’re okay with it?” Cas’ eyes softened a little, “Sam will be there.”

Because Cas just had to ask that. It was startling just how well Cas knew him, how easily he could tell exactly what he was thinking. Briefly, Dean wondered if he was projecting through the bond right now, but he had no idea how to stop it if he was, or to even know if he was at all.

Dean looked down, pulling away from the angel’s hands, and Cas let him. This was a complicated subject, and Cas must know that, something Dean was extremely glad for. Going back to the Bunker meant going back to where Sam was, and Sam would need some sort of explanation, not only for the soul bond, but for everything else that had happened in the last month, and Dean would have to give it to him, or else that would mean sneaking around with Cas behind his brother’s back. The thought of telling Sam about him and Cas was actually pretty much terrifying, and no matter how many times Dean thought about all the things Charlie had said to him the day he’d left the Bunker, Dean still couldn’t make himself believe them.

At least he didn’t need to explain that to Cas.

“Sam loves you, Dean, just as much as you love him, and I doubt something like this could ever put a strain on such a strong feeling. You have no reason to fear that.”

It wasn’t hard to understand how Cas had assumed Sam didn’t know about him being bi, or that he was into guys too, at least. Maybe it was an angel thing, or maybe just years of observation, but Cas had somehow reached the right conclusion on his own.

What he found hard to do was completely believe what Cas was saying, even though those words were an almost perfect echo of what Charlie had said to Dean—that Sam would listen, and that Sam wouldn’t resent him for who he was, that he shouldn't be this worried. But it wasn’t easy to accept that; it wasn’t easy to not be _afraid_ of what Sam might think of him once he knew the truth.

“How can you be so sure of that?” He didn’t get Cas’ confidence. Yes, this was the 21st century and Sam was pretty okay with Charlie being a lesbian, but Dean was his brother, and people tended to react differently to this sort of thing when it happened in their own homes. What if Sam wasn’t okay with it? What then?

“I simply am,” Cas replied, sounding no less confident and sure of what he was saying than before, “Although I do not ask for you to do something you do not feel comfortable with doing, Dean.”

Dean shook his head at that, because Cas got it all wrong, but Dean knew he was probably giving off the wrong impression here, so that was his own fault. “That’s not what I mean, Cas.” He looked up at Cas, meeting the angel’s gaze and hoping Cas would see it in his eyes that he was being completely honest. “I want to do it, Cas, I really do. I don’t want to hide you or to have to sneak around because I’m afraid of coming out to my brother.”

Cas squinted his eyes, frowning in confusion. “Coming out of where?”

Dean chuckled, smiling at the angel, amused even in his current situation, considering the conversation they were having. “It’s an expression, Cas. ‘Coming out of the closet’ means to, you know, tell people you’re not exactly straight, that you’re gay, or bisexual, in my case.” Dean knew that was a very simple way to put it, but he really didn’t want to have to explain all the various branches of sexuality to Cas right now. He had done a lot of research throughout the years, and it had been a surprise to find out gay and straight weren’t the only types of sexuality out there, like he had believed for so many years, thanks to his extremely narrow-minded father. He had read through a lot of sites, coming across various terms, like pansexual, demisexual and asexual, and it had taken him a long time until he finally figured out that he was actually bisexual.

But explaining all that to Cas? It would probably take a while, and Dean didn’t want to have that conversation right now.

Fortunately, Cas didn’t ask for further information on the subject. He just nodded, his face lighting up in understanding as the angel probably filed that information away in his mind. “I think I might have heard that expression before.” He didn't say anything else, instead waiting for Dean to say something.

Dean looked down, letting the silence calm him down a little, soothe him somehow. It didn’t really work. “I’m not saying I’m not scared, Cas, I’m terrified of telling Sam. But I want to tell him. I can’t hide this from him. I _don’t want_ to hide this from him.” And it was the truth, as scary as that might seem in his head, and even more when he said it out loud like that.

Dean wasn’t sure if his conversation with Charlie had possibly made him more open to this, and maybe it had, but he felt like he could do this; that he wanted to open up to Sam and finally, after all the years of hiding himself and sneaking around whenever he hooked up with a guy, that he could finally be honest with his brother.

But more importantly, he didn’t want to hide Cas. It wouldn’t be fair to the angel, Dean knew that, just as it wouldn’t be fair to Sam. Cas wasn’t just a fling to Dean, not just a nightstand he would walk away from the next morning, far from it, and he couldn’t even consider lying to his brother about this, sneaking around and basically refusing everything he had wished for throughout the past few years just so he could keep his sexuality secret.

That didn’t mean Dean wasn’t scared, he truly was, but he assumed he still had a few days until they went back to the Bunker to work up his courage, and that would have to be enough.

“Very well,” Cas replied lowly, and the smile the angel flashed at Dean made it all seem worth it in his head.

***~*~*~*~***

_It is believed that a human soul can be claimed by a demon, most commonly through a deal, which will damn the soul to Hell after death. Less commonly, a claim can also be made by an angel, though the fate of the soul in question is uncertain, for it is the angel’s choice what happens to it after the claim is laid. The claim from an angel is rare, and hasn’t been heard of in centuries._

Sam closed the book with a loud, defeated sigh. The book started going on about demons and hellhounds and a bunch of things Sam already knew about, which was definitely not what he was looking for.

He looked over to the side, where Charlie was sitting on a chair, reading something on the screen of her laptop, frowning lightly as she read through what Sam assumed what yet another text as she looked for something on either the Mark of Cain, fading Angel Grace, looking for pointers on Cas’ Grace or, the most recent one, soul bonds between humans and angels, although judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t having much more success on her research than Sam was.

Still, Sam had to ask, “Find anything?”

Charlie’s eyes snapped away from the screen quickly at the sound of the younger Winchester’s voice, snapping her out from whatever trance she seemed to have been on while reading. “Not much,” she shook her head lightly, pursing her lips at the screen, “Just a bunch of stuff on demon deals and some stuff on angels that definitely doesn’t help and is probably wrong, anyway.”

Sam huffed, because that was pretty much what he’d found so far as well. Standing up from his chair and wincing at how his entire spine cracked as he stretched his muscles a little, Sam began walking toward the hallway, intending to go over to the kitchen to get them both something to eat. He wasn’t a particularly skilled cook like he’d discovered Dean to be since they’d taken permanent residence in the Men of Letters headquarters (he wasn’t sure where Dean had learned to cook like he did, but Sam was extremely grateful for all the meals his older brother was just eager to prepare for the both of them now that they had a proper kitchen and everything), but he was pretty sure he could throw something simple together that wouldn’t kill them. Hopefully. Charlie had been cooking for two days now whenever one of them didn’t go out to buy takeout, and Sam actually felt bad about it. She was the guest here, after all.

Before he could reach the hallway, however, the sound of Charlie’s voice made him stop walking.

“Hey, Sam, can I talk to you for a second?”

Sam paused, turning back around to give the redhead a mildly confused look. There was a clear hint of hesitation to her voice that he couldn’t quite understand, and that a frown forming in his brows. “Sure. What is it?”

Charlie bit her lip a little, glancing at the screen of her laptop for only a second before fixing her gaze back on the hunter. Her shoulders were tense, her posture slightly stiff, which all led Sam to believe there was something wrong, and that instantly had Sam wondering about her weird behavior since Crowley had showed up once more. “Well, it’s…” The girl shrugged as she apparently looked for the right words to finish that with, “I think you could use a break, Sam.”

Well, that was definitely not what Sam had been expecting to hear. “What are you talking about?”

“Sam, you’re not okay. You’re… you’re obsessing, or something, I don’t know, but it’s not healthy.”

Sam frowned, honestly surprised to hear those words. What was Charlie talking about? He wasn’t obsessed, he was _worried_ about his brother, because that’s what they did, they worried and cared for each other. It had always been like that, and Charlie should know that by now. “Charlie, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Sam’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected bite in the girl’s tone. Charlie seemed surprised with herself as well, pausing and taking in a deep breath before speaking again, as if finding the need to force herself to calm down. “Sam, you’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating, you’re only standing up right now because you drank a liter of coffee earlier and you’ve gone through every book in this library at least twice!”

Sam huffed, annoyed, because Charlie just didn’t seem to _get_ it. His brother was dying, so he had to make a few sacrifices to make sure Dean would make it to the other side of this whole Mark of Cain situation. The damage Sam was doing to himself could not compare to what would happen if he failed to save his brother yet again. He had already failed Dean on this once, and then he'd held his brother while he died. Sam would die himself before he let it happen again, and then he would come back and make sure Dean would be fine.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” Sam breathed out, letting his shoulders sag in defeat just a little, feeling the tiredness settling into his muscles and making his body ache, “It’s Dean, Charlie, my _brother_. I can’t just let him die.”  _I can't go through that again,_ he wanted to add, but his mouth couldn't form the words.

“I know that, Sam.” Charlie let her own shoulders fall, letting out a sigh of what Sam could only understand as sadness, or maybe sympathy, he couldn’t be sure. It was just then that Sam realized she looked pretty tired herself. “I’m worried too, Sam. You and Dean are like brothers to me, you know that, but… I don’t want to have to watch one of you die to save the other. What good will it do to Dean if you kill yourself trying to save him?”

Sam opened his mouth to respond, to tell her that wasn’t what would happen, even though he _would_ die for Dean in an instant, but deep down he knew she was right. He knew he was reading himself to the ground, and to make it even worse, he felt like he was chasing his own tail on this, had felt that way for months now, just reading book after book without actually finding anything that could save his brother. And now with this whole soul bond situation, things just seemed more complicated than they had ever been, mainly because he had absolutely _no_ idea what that changed where the Mark of Cain was concerned.

“I’m desperate, Charlie,” Sam shook his head, letting out a heavy breath in midst of his words, “I don’t know what to do. The Mark gets closer to killing my brother every day, and now with this soul bond between Dean and Cas, which I still have no idea how to understand, everything is just…”

“Falling apart right before your eyes?” Charlie guessed.

Sam nodded tightly at the words, because they pretty much explained what he felt on the inside, with everything crumbling to pieces around him, though he was helpless against all of it. He just felt like tearing around and screaming in frustration most of the time.

“Listen, Sam,” There was a shift in Charlie’s tone from before. She didn’t sound irritated anymore, like she had when talking about how Sam was pretty much killing himself with all the research he was doing. She sounded sadder, weaker, like her own resolve was fading. Her tone had grown almost pleading, like her strength was also fading, but somehow she still had it in her to try and save Sam, “I know you want to help Dean, I do too, but this isn’t helping him at all. Tell me, what other person in this world would you trust Dean’s life to?”

“Cas,” Sam replied without thinking, without a single doubt in his head. Cas was the only other living being on this Earth who would do absolutely anything for Dean.

“And who is Dean with right now?”

Sam swallowed, looking down, because he knew exactly where she was going with this, and yet he still replied, “Cas.”

“See? Sam, Dean’s as safe as he can be right now. Cas is not going to let anything happen to Dean, you have to know that. And besides,” Sam looked up to see Charlie opening her laptop once again, “We have no idea what this bond means or what it can do, so worrying ourselves sick won’t help.”

“And what am I supposed to do then, Charlie?” Sam asked, hearing the plea in his own voice, “I can’t just sit around all day doing nothing. I can’t do that.”

“Well,” Charlie typed something into her computer, glancing at the screen for just a second before looking back over at Sam, “You could try to take your mind off of it.” She turned the laptop on the table a little, just so the screen would be turned to Sam.

Sam frowned at her, confused, but he still lowered his body enough to glance at the screen, realizing he was staring at a news article. “What is this?” he asked, even though he already knew what answer he would get.

“A case,” Charlie replied calmly, “A man disappeared in the parking lot of a bar in Pendleton, Oregon.”

“And?” Sam shook his head at the redhead. This didn’t sound like a case, and even if it did turn out to be a hunt, he still wouldn’t want to go. He had so much to deal with right now; he couldn’t even imagine himself working a job. “It doesn’t even sound like our kind of thing.”

“Oh, it does,” Charlie smiled, looking pretty proud of herself, “Because the man, according to the only eye witness, disappeared in this bright flash of light, leaving behind only his clothes.”

Well, Charlie did have a point, it surely sounded like a case to Sam. Still, he really didn’t feel like working a job. “Charlie, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can, and you will.” Charlie closed her laptop once more, this time rising from her chair. “Sam, you need to get out of this Bunker. You need to do something other than research or you’ll drive yourself mad. And I know Dean needs help, I do, but you can’t help him right now. He’s not here, so you can either sit around all day doing nothing but reading through a bunch of books that aren't getting you anywhere or get out of this cave and kick some monster ass. And just so you know, if you don’t want to go, I’m going out there on my own.”

Sam opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He was shocked; he certainly hadn’t been expecting such an outburst from Charlie. Also, deep down he knew she had a point. He had no idea what else he could do to help Dean, since research didn’t seem to be getting them anywhere and all Sam knew from the soul bond had come from Crowley, which wasn’t much at all.

Also, Sam knew Charlie was serious about going on the job on her own, and he should definitely not let that happen. It wasn’t like he thought Charlie couldn’t work a job on her own. He knew she could handle it; she had told them she had worked a few cases on her own before. But working solo was risky even to experienced hunters, he knew that way too well, and Charlie didn’t have that much experience in the field. He would feel much better if he was there with her in case she needed help.

Sam let out a sigh of defeat, feeling the fight slowly drain from his body. He couldn’t think of another reason to stay in the Bunker, of another excuse, and maybe that didn’t matter because he knew Charlie wouldn’t agree with anything he said to try and convince her not to go on that hunt, so he found himself agreeing weakly, “Fine.”

Charlie smiled brightly at him, clapping her hands together in clear excitement, her entire demeanor doing a complete one-eighty without a warning. “Alright, I’ll go pack! We leave in the morning!”

And with that, she grabbed her laptop, sprinting out of the room in a flash and disappearing into the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Sam watched her go without a word, unsure of what to do after she was gone. He had a feeling he would regret going on this hunt, but he hoped with everything he had that he was wrong.

With a tired sigh, Sam focused his mind back on getting some food ready, exiting the Men of Letters library and slowly heading to the kitchen.

Once he got there, he pulled out his phone for the hundredth time since Dean had taken off, pressing one on his speed dial and bringing the phone up to his ear. But just like the last few times he had called his brother, a recorded voice informed him that the number dialed was out of their coverage zone and could not be reached.

With a defeated sigh, Sam ended the call. _Damn it, Dean. Where the hell are you?_

***~*~*~*~***

Dean squinted, feeling the brightness of sunlight hitting his face even through his closed eyelids. Opening one eye, he mentally cursed as he realized that yep, his face was turned toward the freaking window and sunlight from the clearly rising sun was shining into the room. Awesome. That was why he loved the Bunker; _no freaking windows._

Groaning, Dean tried to roll over, but found that he couldn’t. There was something heavy on his chest, something warm and firm that apparently wouldn’t let him move, because it just wouldn’t budge.

Opening both eyes this time, Dean tried to look down at his body, though he had to wait a few seconds with his eyes squinted until he could finally stop blinking and his eyes stopped watering because of the light. His vision went into focus after a while, and when he finally did get a look of what exactly was not allowing him to move, a smile instantly formed on his lips, his annoyance fading instantly.

Cas looked adorable when he was asleep; not that Dean would ever say that out loud. He had a frown going on that made him look kind of grumpy, but that Dean actually found pretty cute. He had his head resting on Dean’s chest, and arm wrapped around the human’s torso, keeping him in place. Under the covers, Dean shifted a little and felt the angel’s leg thrown over his own, tangling with his so Cas could lay this close and use him as a pillow.

Dean remembered they hadn’t gone to sleep like this last night; there had been a few inches between them on the bed, but at some point they had shifted into a position that could definitely be considered as cuddling. Usually Dean would try to run if this happened with a one night stand he for some reason ended up literally _spending the night_ with (which was already a pretty rare occurrence on its own), because Dean Winchester definitely didn’t cuddle. Until now, the only two exceptions to that had been Cassie and Lisa, but even with them it hadn't felt quite like this. Somehow, this felt much more intimate than anything he'd ever done before, even if they were both properly clothed and hadn't done anything in that bed the night before apart from sleeping.

Lying in bed with Cas wrapped around him like that felt… nice, for lack of a better word. Cas felt warm and solid against his side, the periodic rise and fall of the angel’s chest as he breathed almost comforting, just as was the constant feeling of his heartbeat against Dean’s ribcage, because it meant that Cas was safe and alive, and that was all Dean could ask for after almost losing him. 

There was something else about it, though. There was just this… warmness, this weird feeling that had Dean feeling a little lightheaded, but that made him feel good nonetheless, feeling content for no reason at all, which the hunter assumed must come from the soul bond. It felt more evident when he was so close to Cas, stronger and much more intense, especially now that the angel’s life wasn’t hanging by a thread. Overall, it just felt really good.

It was surreal, Dean had to admit that. For years he had believed this would _never_ happen, but here was, lying on a bed with Cas all but spread over him. Sure, the whole soul bond thing added to the Mark of Cain and Cas’ fading Grace did make things a little complicated, and he still had no idea where exactly they stood other than the fact that they could kiss and cuddle, but only for a moment, Dean wanted to enjoy this moment, right there and now, without thinking about the things they still had to deal with, ignoring all his doubts and insecurities to instead simply bask in the moment.

Gently, afraid to wake the angel, Dean lifted his arm, bending his elbow enough so he could carefully card his fingers through Cas’ hair, something he for some reason couldn’t get tired of doing. Cas’ hair was soft under his palm, the feeling of running his fingers through the messy dark locks even better than he had ever imagined it to be.

For what felt like over an hour, Dean just laid there, watching as the sunlight streaming through the window washed over the room and thinking about the day that would follow.

Yesterday, Dean had allowed himself to just enjoy this. He and Cas had spent the rest of the previous day just doing nothing apart from eating and watching some terrible daytime TV (the fact that the old television in the living room actually worked was a true miracle; Dean was actually shocked when the ugly, rusty thing turned on), most of which with Cas commenting on everything he did not agree with or failed to understand, while making sure Dean was made aware of every single reference he did understand, and even though Dean pretended to be annoyed at that sometimes, he couldn’t help but smile every time.

They hadn’t gotten physical, though, except for a few short, completely tame kisses. There was just too much tension between them, Dean supposed, with everything that had happened after Omaha, or maybe it was something else entirely, he wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was that he had a feeling they should hold back for now, and apparently Cas agreed with him, though neither of them had said a thing about it yet, no matter how much Dean wanted to.

Still, it had been easy to forget about the world outside of the cabin the day before; to just ignore everything and enjoy being in this place alone with Cas, away from the world and from anyone.

But today, he knew they couldn’t do that anymore.

Dean still had the Mark of Cain on his arm, Cas’ Grace was still fading and Sam was probably going to get hoarse yelling at him the next time they talked, probably even hit him a little bit for just taking off in the middle of the night like he had and then basically ignoring all his calls and messages. Not that Dean was receiving any of them in this place thanks to the terrible cell reception on this mountain, but he remembered hearing his phone vibrating on silent on his entire way from Lebanon to Absarokee and then for a while into his ride to this cabin until he reached the point where there was no signal anymore. He hadn't touched his phone since he'd left the Bunker, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly what he would find waiting for him in it when he did.

He knew Sam was probably pretty mad at him, and he had every single right to be. Looking back now, maybe leaving like that hadn’t been the best idea he'd ever had, but Dean still couldn’t imagine any other way he might have been able to convince Sam to let him go on a trip like this alone. Sam would chain him to his bed if he had to.

And if Dean hadn’t come looking for Cas, both of them would most likely be dead by now, thanks to Cas trying to break the soul bond and draining himself to the very last drop of his Grace’s power. Cas hadn’t meant for the spell to fail, Dean knew that, but it hadn’t broken the bond, so if Cas had died here (which, considering what Dean had seen when he'd first gotten to this cabin, would have happened pretty soon), Dean would have died along with him.

But Sam didn’t know that, which meant that his little brother was probably pretty pissed.

That thought didn’t make Dean feel any better about the perspective of telling Sam about him and Cas. It actually made him feel even more nervous, to be honest. Maybe he should call Sam beforehand to tell him about the bond and test the waters a little bit? Try to calm him down a little, so he wasn’t as explosive when they got to the Batcave? Get part of the conversation out of the way so all Dean really had to worry about was the whole ‘coming out to his brother’ part of it? Yeah, that might work. Dean should do that.

But of course, that meant driving to town, where he could get cell reception to make the call. Well, Dean still had some clothes to take to the Laundromat, including Cas’ trench coat, suit and shirt, and few of his own clothes as well. Dean’s heart had almost broken when he’d seen the way Cas had looked at the damn coat the day before, an actual pout forming on his lips as he took in the way it was completely covered in dry blood and in no state to be worn, but the angel had hurried to cover it up as soon as he realized Dean was watching.

By the time he made up his mind that he would drive to town, Dean realized Cas wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, which meant he would have to find a way to get up without jolting the angel awake. Cas needed rest, as much as he tried to convince Dean that he was fine now. Of course, the angel was clearly better than he had been when Dean had found him unconscious in this cabin, so much Dean had actually been able to remove the bandage from the angel's arm the night before, since the cut was completely healed now, but Cas certainly wasn’t fine, far from it, and Dean would do everything he could to make sure Cas was okay. And right now, that meant letting the angel sleep through morning.

It took a lot of slow and careful maneuvering, especially since Cas just didn’t seem willing to let go of Dean, because every time the hunter moved the angel tightened his arms around him, trying to keep his heat source from moving away from him. Cas actually _whimpered_ once in his sleep, but eventually Dean did manage to get out of the angel’s grip and stand up on his two feet before the bed. Cas grumbled in his sleep, burying his face into the pillow and almost hiding from sight under the thick comforter, rolling into the place where Dean had been lying to probably chase the warmth there. Dean smiled fondly at the scene.

After taking a quick shower, he put on some clean clothes and threw together some breakfast for him and Cas. He also ate another slice of apple pie, of course. How could he not?

It was a true miracle Dean didn’t throw up after he ate breakfast. It seemed like his stomach felt a little more cooperative today.

After he was done eating, he checked the cabinets in the kitchen and the fridge to make sure they had more food left, because they weren't planning to leave this place so soon. They had decided to stay here for a couple of days and then drive both the Impala and the Pimpmobile to Lebanon, even though Dean didn’t feel too happy about the idea of Cas driving that monstrosity of car so far and for so long, to which Cas stubbornly replied that he was perfectly capable of making the trip and that Dean was being ridiculous.

Cas was still asleep when he was done with breakfast and ready to leave, which wasn’t much of a surprise, so Dean left Cas’ food on the kitchen table along with a small note telling the angel he had gone into town and would be back in a few hours.

It was close to ten in the morning by the time Dean reached Absarokee, and he didn’t have to look for long until he found a place to get all the clothes washed. He took up three machines on his own (he couldn’t possibly wash his flannels with Cas’ clothes. If he came back to the cabin with a pink trench coat Cas might actually smite him on the spot. Dean almost felt jealous of the damn thing), but fortunately the entire process of washing and drying everything did not take too long.

The Impala was parked in the shared parking lot of the Laundromat, a small market, a diner and a bar, from which Dean did not immediately drive off after getting into the car. He just sat there behind the wheel for a while, watching as people walked by over at the sidewalk a few feet away, laughed along with their companions as they ate breakfast and drank coffee at the diner and entered the bar and market alone or accompanied. For a small town, this place wasn’t as deserted as Dean would have expected it to be.

It took him a while to work out the courage to do it, but eventually he did pull his phone out of his jacket pocket, glancing down at the screen for the first time in days, only to find out that yeah, he had a bunch of notifications glaring at him from the screen. More specifically, thirty-two missed calls from Sammy, eight missed calls from Charlie and eleven new text messages.

Dean opened the texts first.

From Charlie, he had seven unread texts waiting for him.

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 6:38 AM - Dude, where the hell are you? Sam’s freaking out**

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 6:39 AM - Did you go after Cas?**

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 6:47 AM - I know I told you not to give up on him, but you didn't have to run away like that**

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 8:12 PM - Dean, where did you go?**

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 11:27 PM - Sam’s scaring me, Dean, please answer your cell, I’m getting worried about him**

**Received Feb 24, 2015, 10:35 AM - I’m so going to punch you when you come back, just so you know**

**Received Feb 24, 2015, 1:04 PM - So… you might want to pick up your cell. Crowley stopped by and said a few things and now Sam’s freaking out**

Dean actually cursed lowly to himself at the last message, which had been sent to him yesterday afternoon. Damn it, he should have known Crowley would have said something. But what did he say exactly? Dean just hoped Crowley hadn’t told his brother about him and Cas, but something told him Sam probably already knew about the soul bond at this point.

Shaking his head, Dean opened up Sam’s messages.

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 5:34 AM - Dean, pick up your phone, damn it**

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 3:56 PM - Dean, where are you?**

**Received Feb 23, 2015, 10:17 PM - You know you can’t be alone right now, Dean, please, come back**

**Received Feb 24, 2015, 11:12 AM - Dean, we need to talk**

That last text didn’t sound good at all, and Dean felt the cold tendrils of dread spreading over his insides. If Crowley had told Sam…

Before he could change his mind, Dean dialed one on speed dial, pressing his phone to his ear while holding it with a little more strength than normal.

Sam picked up after the second ring.

_“Dean.”_

The sound of Sam’s voice, breathy and so clearly relieved to have received this call made Dean feel even more awful about taking off than he had before. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, not one bit, even though he hated what his little stunt might have done to this brother.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean did everything he could to sound natural, though he couldn’t help but sound a little sheepish. He knew Sam was seconds away from bursting into a yelling parade, he knew his brother well enough that he was already wincing in expectation.

He wasn’t wrong.

_“Dean, where the hell are you? Couldn’t you have picked up your damn phone? Couldn’t you have told me where you were going, or left a goddamn note? I had to find out through **Crowley** that you were going after Cas! I didn’t even know if you were still alive until he showed up yesterday. I thought you were **dead**!”_

Dean flinched more than once through his brother’s outburst, but waited silently until Sam was done, because he knew interrupting Sam was definitely not a good idea right now. When Sam did finish, though, his brother was very close to panting, as his voice seemed to have grown desperate with every word. God, Dean had really done a number on him, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Sam,” That was really all Dean could find to say in that moment. What else was he supposed to say? He had to get Sam to calm down enough so they could talk, because he couldn’t afford to have Sam being this way when he and Cas got to the Bunker. “I just had to do this. And I knew you wouldn’t have let me leave.”

_“Of course I wouldn’t have, Dean, because you shouldn’t have left in the first place! What if the Mark had started to act up again?”_

Dean let out a heavy breath at those words. Well, here goes nothing…

“Sam, I would have died if I had stayed at the Bunker.” The words ‘And I would be a demon again’ almost jumped from his tongue, but Dean kept them in his mouth. Sam would get it anyway, and it was still hard for Dean to talk about that particular subject. He actually doubted talking about it would ever get any easier, to be honest.

The anger from before seemed to dim a little from Sam’s voice as he asked, _“What?”_ It was just a subtle change, but Dean still caught it. Okay, that was progress. He could work with that.

But before he said anything, he needed to know what exactly Sam knew. “What did Crowley tell you?” He didn’t want to overshare over the phone. And it would also be good to know just exactly what he would be walking into once he and Cas got to the Batcave. He had to know just how much Sam knew beforehand so he could figure out how exactly he was going to tell his brother the rest of the story. "I just want to know we’re on the same page,” he added, hoping Sam would buy the explanation without questioning it.

_“He told us about the soul bond, Dean.”_

Dean still had to be sure. “And?” he asked.

_“And what? Is there something else I should know about?”_

Dean recovered quickly from that little slip, barely registering the relief that washed over his entire being as he realized that Sam didn’t know about him and Cas before he was speaking again, “No, I mean, did Crowley explain anything about it to you? What did he say?”

_“No, he didn’t explain anything. He just showed up, dropped that on me and Charlie and left! Now, Dean, could you please explain to me what the hell that is about? Your soul is bonded to Cas’?”_

Dean glanced around in his seat, looking out the partially rolled down windows of the car to make sure that no one was close enough to where he was parked to hear what he was saying before he answered that. Someone overhearing anything he said would be more than a little inconvenient. “Pretty much, yeah, but it’s… a little more complicated than just that.”

_“Crowley said the Mark wasn’t happy about it, too, and that the bond must have helped you find Cas.”_

“Well, for once, he wasn’t lying,” Dean sighed. He could hear Sam’s anger melting away in his voice, but there was still a sharp edge to his brother’s tone that meant Dean wasn’t off the hook just yet. “Cas was dying when I found him, Sam. He was holed up in a cabin in the middle of the woods to die. If I hadn’t found him…” Even now, when he knew Cas was safe and alive in the cabin, sleeping through the morning so he could heal up a bit more, or maybe eating breakfast (would Dean feel him waking up this far away? Dean was pretty sure he wouldn’t), it was still pretty hard to even _think_ about what would have happened if he hadn’t found Cas in time.

_“You said you wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t left. Was that…?”_

Dean swallowed drily at the question, although he did feel glad that Sam had caught up so quickly. Still, he could already hear it in Sam’s voice, the guilt starting to sink in, the heaviness of the fact that Dean could be a demon right now settling heavily with his words. But Sam hadn’t _known_ , and if he had kept Dean locked up in his room, it wouldn’t be Sam’s fault, whatever had happened. Sam shouldn’t blame himself for this.

Dean closed his eyes, letting out a heavy a heavy breath, somehow forcing the words out of his mouth, “The soul bond would have killed me along with him.”

 _“Jesus, Dean,”_ Dean could hear the exasperation in his brother’s voice, _“How did a bond like that even happen? Crowley said it was an accident, but was it really? I mean, what did Cas say?”_

“Trust me, Sam, it was an accident, I was there.” Dean wasn’t going to share details, though. Nope. Not happening.

_“Wait, you knew about it?”_

“No, I mean, now I know when it happened, I just didn’t know _what_ was happening when it happened, but now I do.”

_“And when was that exactly, Dean? Because last I checked, Cas hasn’t been around all that much lately.”_

Dean let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out a way to explain how he and Cas ended up bonded in the first place, but how the hell could he keep the most crucial part of the story out? How could he explain something like this to Sam without giving away something he shouldn’t right now?

“It happened in Omaha, Sam, while you out in the hospital. It was an accident, trust me, I saw it.”

There was a pause on the other end, during which Dean assumed Sam was mulling this new piece of information over in his head. It took so long for Sam to say something that Dean had already gotten pretty worked up when it finally happened, suddenly paranoid that he had given too much away and that Sam had somehow figured it out. Or maybe Crowley _had_ told Sam something and his brother hadn’t mentioned it as a test, to see if Dean would tell him about it or not. That was possible too. It was, right?

_“But how did it happen, Dean? Was he healing you or something?”_

“Yes!” Dean realized his answer had been a little too intense, so he hurried to lower the volume of his voice. But how the hell hadn’t he thought about that sooner? It was the perfect cover up. Well, not perfect, but Dean was pretty sure Sam would buy it for the time being, and that was definitely good enough for now. All he needed was for Sam to wait a little longer, just a little more time. He wasn’t planning on hiding this forever, anyway. “I mean, it’s a little more complicated than that, but… Yeah, that’s basically it.” Dean wasn’t exactly lying; Cas _had_ healed him before they slept together. He was just leaving basically everything important out for the time being. It wasn’t like he could tell Sam about this over the phone.

 _“Yeah, I figured it must have been something like that.”_ Sam's voice was careful, like he was still considering Dean's answer, and while that made Dean a little nervous, he still found himself holding in the sigh of pure relief that threatened to tear out of his lips at those words. He did allow his eyes to fall closed as he relaxed in the car seat, though. For a second, he had been sure Sam _knew_.  _“Still, this whole story just doesn’t sound right to me, Dean. I mean, Cas healed you a bunch of times before; he's healed both of us, actually. Why did he screw it up now?”_

This time Dean did let out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t tell his brother over the phone, he just couldn’t. Sam would have to wait, even though it sounded like that was the last thing his brother wanted to do right now. “I know, Sam, I know, but this isn’t something to talk over the phone. I’ll tell you once I get back, alright?”

_“And when exactly is that?”_

Well, that one was a question Dean could answer, at least. “We’ll leave in a few days. Cas can’t make the trip right now.”

Another pause from Sam, though this one was harder to read. The silence was heavy somehow, and that was all there was for a while, but Dean knew he shouldn't break it, so instead he waited for his brother to ask whatever question hovering over his head.

It didn't take long.

 _“How is Cas?”_ Sam’s voice a lower, more tentative now, and Dean wasn’t sure what to understand from that. His brother sounded almost hesitant for some reason, but Dean couldn’t know why.

“He’s better now. He says he would be fine to drive to the Bunker today, but I’d rather wait a little more, just to be sure. I mean, the guy almost died, he should rest for a few days.”

Sam simply hummed on the other end, which had Dean panicking all over again. Had he said too much? Damn it, he had to be more careful…

A sigh echoed on the other end of the line. _“Dean, I already have a bad feeling about this. I mean, you said that if Cas died, you’d die with him, and his Grace **is** fading…”_

Dean closed his eyes once more, because he certainly didn’t need to be reminded of _that_. The fact that Cas was still dying loomed over his head like a dark cloud, along with the constant presence of the Mark of Cain and the knowledge that if Cas died, he would die along with him and become a Knight of Hell again. Why did his life have to be so screwed up? He just never managed to catch a break. He just felt like he always had to be either dealing with the end of the world or imminent death. It was always one, the other or both. Usually both.

“I know, Sam, I know,” He spoke through a tired sigh, “Can we talk about this when I get back, please? There’s still a bunch of stuff you don’t know.”

Yet another heavy sigh came from the other end, although this one sounded more tired, defeated, but definitely not enough, like his brother was still struggling on whether or not he should press more, demand answers, ask more questions. Sam was reluctant to just let the subject go for the time being, Dean understood that, because he would do the same thing were the roles reversed here. But they weren’t, and Dean really needed the time he would get between now and when he got to the Bunker to figure some things out in his head, like how he would tell Sam about him and Cas in the first place.

 _“Alright,”_ Sam finally said, to Dean’s relief, _“Where are you, anyway?”_

“Absarokee, Montana,” Dean replied, glancing around once more, realizing the parking lot had filled a lot more while he had been on the phone and he hadn't even noticed it until now, “A small town in the middle of nowhere with a terrible cell reception.”

 _“Yeah, I noticed,”_ It was hard not to notice the hint of bitterness in Sam’s voice, but Dean chose not to comment on it, _“And how are you feeling? I mean, has the Mark…?”_

‘Been acting up lately?’ Dean could pretty much hear those words in his head, even if Sam didn’t say them out loud. “I’m actually fine, Sam. The soul bond kind of helps quieting down the Mark a little.”

“Really?” Dean could hear the shock in his brother’s clearly, “Oh, that’s great. I mean, it’s… How is it doing it?”

“I’ll tell you when I get back, Sammy. It’s kind of a pretty complicated thing.” And Dean really didn’t feel like having such a lengthy conversation over the phone right now. “I’ll call you when Cas and I decide to leave, alright?”

_“Yeah, okay, I’m leaving the Bunker now. I won’t be here for the next few days, but I will be back soon.”_

That had Dean’s mind screeching to a halt. “Where are you going?” he asked, frowning.

_“Charlie is dragging me along to this case she found.”_

“Oh,” Well, that hadn’t been the answer Dean had been expecting, but okay, “Where is it?”

_“Pendleton, Oregon. I still don’t know what it is, though, just some random disappearance in a bar's parking lot in a flash of white light.”_

“Yeah, nothing I’ve heard before,” Dean agreed, “Angels, maybe?”

_“No idea, but it could be.”_

Dean didn't have anything else to add concerning the case, so all he ended up saying was, “You two be careful, alright?”

Sam let out a something close to a cross between a huff and a chuckle, a sound that was practically music to Dean’s ears right now. _“Sure. Keep me updated, okay?”_

Dean actually managed a small smile at that, “Sure thing, Sammy.”

After the call was done, Dean lingered in the parking lot for a little while, still not finding it in himself to start up Baby’s engine and drive back to the cabin. His eyes focused on the bar a few meters away, the faded letters on the front and the bright ‘Open’ sign by the door.

He had been fighting it for a while. He had not drunk a single drop of alcohol since Omaha, but holding back the urge was getting harder and harder every day. And now, with his upcoming conversation with Sam about him and Cas still hovering over his head and with the whole soul bond situation, Dean realized he _really_ needed a drink.

It was pretty early for drinking, but he had started earlier several times before, so it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle it. With that thought in mind, Dean slipped out of the Impala and walked over to the door of the bar.

The place was pretty empty, but that had been expected. Still, there were some people drinking inside, even at this time of the day, though most looked like they might kill the next person who talked to them, clearly attempting to drink their problems away, so Dean made sure not to make eye contact with them for too long. The last thing he needed right now was to get in a bar fight.

He took a seat at the bar, which was deserted, save from a black-haired man hunched in on himself a few stools to the right, drinking a colorful (it was fucking _pink_ , for Christ’s sake) drink that had a freaking flowery umbrella and a colorful straw. The guy was very much focused on his drink, not even glancing at Dean as he drank slowly from his glass, looking like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Weirdo.

The bartender walked over to where Dean was as soon as he sat down on his stool. “What can I get ya?” he asked, eyeing Dean up and down for a moment. Dean was used to it already, though, so it didn't bother him. People in small towns usually could instantly tell he wasn't from around there, and this clearly was the case here.

Dean glanced up at all the bottles behind the man on display on the shelves, making up his mind that if he was really going to drink, he wasn’t just going to ask for a beer. “Bourbon,” he said finally.

The bartender nodded in approval at his choice, resting a shot glass on the counter onto a napkin and pouring the drink into it. He put the bottle away after that, lingering for a moment more as he surveyed the bar with careful eyes before walking through the door on the side, which Dean assumed led to the kitchen, probably to do something productive in there, considering that business was slow at this time of the day.

Dean stared at his glass, trying to swallow down the feeling that he shouldn’t be doing this. He had been on a dry spell because of the Mark, and he hadn't drunk in a month after what had happened in Omaha, but what was the point of it now? He could feel the Mark still, but it was weaker now, its voice too low and distant for Dean to make out the words. It was like a low grumble now, angry and filled with hatred, but mostly incoherent, even with Cas not by his side.

And anyway, all Dean wanted was to just stop _thinking_ for a while, was that too much to ask?

“You know, it’s a little early for that, don’t you think?”

Dean’s head snapped to the side, finding the source of the sound had been the weird man with the girly drink. He was half-turned on his stool now, facing Dean, which allowed the hunter to get a clear view of the dude's face. Green eyes, dark spiky hair and a pointy nose. He was wearing a brown leather jacket over a black shirt, dark jeans and boots. Overall, he looked pretty normal, but he wasn’t anyone Dean recognized from his past trips to this town, which meant he was just some random dude who had decided to start conversation and for some reason had the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck rising in alarm.

“Yeah, well, what’s it to you?”

The man lifted his hands in a signal of surrender, shrugging lightly. “Well, it’s your liver, pal.” He turned back around on the stool, focusing his attention back on his pink drink (was that fucking _yogurt?_ It sure as hell looked like it) and finishing it with a few big gulps.

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man get to his feet, because there was just something… _off_ about the guy, even though Dean couldn’t explain what it was exactly. It was just a bad feeling, something that to a hunter usually meant something bad. As Dean stared with narrowed eyes, the guy pulled a wallet out from his jacket pocket, throwing a small wad of cash onto the counter, which was clearly a lot more than how much his pink drink must have cost him.

Much to Dean’s surprise, the next thing the guy did was offer him a smile. It wasn’t a very friendly smile; it was kind of mocking, somehow, almost like a smirk. There was an odd glint in his eyes, too, which had even more alarms going off in Dean’s head.

“On me,” He gestured with his head to Dean’s glass, “Although I still think you _really_ shouldn’t be drinking.”

Dean frowned in confusion at that, but was too startled to answer as the guy walked past him and began making his way to the exit, but paused to greet a big bearded man sitting by the window a few steps away, asking the him about his son and saying something about football.

 _Well, that was weird._ Dean shook his head, turning back to his drink. Well, at least he got a free drink out of this. Shrugging and deciding that maybe the guy was just weird and he was being a little paranoid, Dean picked the glass up in his hand and lifted it to his mouth before he could think too much about it and change his mind about drinking.

_What the fuck?_

He coughed when the liquid was tossed into his mouth, pulling the still half-filled glass away from his lips in shock and staring at it like it had just tried to kill him, because what had just entered his mouth definitely wasn’t whiskey. No, it was a lot thicker than that, sweet, and it tasted like fucking strawberries.

From the glass, a pink, thick, opaque liquid stared at him innocently, like it had been there all along.

It was fucking _yogurt._

And it looked just like what the weird guy had been drinking.

Dean spun around in his stool, looking for the weird guy from before, but he wasn’t lingering by a table talking like he had been before, talking to the other dude. No, the yogurt guy had reached the door now, by which he was still standing. He was staring at Dean, an actual freaking _smirk_ playing on his lips as he watched the scene, looking like he was finding the entire thing absolutely hilarious.

The guy fucking _winked_ at him a second later, before slipping outside without a word.

Dean was up to his feet in a moment, pretty much running over to the entrance of the bar and earning a few confused stares, but he didn’t care. He had to get to the guy and punch him to next Sunday.

Dean knew he should have trusted his instincts about the guy.

As soon as Dean burst outside, though, he couldn’t see the guy anywhere. There was just no fucking way the guy could have walked away so fast, at least not if he was human. He had apparently just vanished in the thin air, and _that_ was certainly a sign the man was something not human. Not that the whole turning whiskey into yogurt thing wasn’t enough of a sign for Dean.

“Son of a bitch.”

***~*~*~*~***

Castiel woke up slowly.

He felt warm, tucked under a thick comforter, which covered his entire body, from his head to his toes. His face was pressed against the softness of a pillow, which rested on his arms as he hugged it close to his body and against his chest.

He was alone, he could tell that instantly. He reached for the bond instinctively, trying to find Dean, whom he remembered had been in this very bed with him the night before. But Dean wasn’t close. He could feel Dean’s soul, but not as strongly as he would be able to feel the human were he close. Judging by just how distant and weak the connection felt, Dean was not in the cabin anymore.

That thought alone was enough to jolt Castiel awake. He sat up on the bed, despising the feeling of stiffness that impregnated his muscles as his body complained at the sudden movement, wordlessly requesting that he returned to the bed, where he would be more comfortable and could once more give in to the peacefulness of slumber. His strained Grace whined, begging for more rest.

Castiel ignored the feeling, as strong and tempting as the urge to lie back down on the bed was.

His bare feet felt cold against the wooden floor of the hallway as he walked out of the bedroom, but found relief once he stepped onto the furry surface of the carpet in the living room. He would not have felt such discomfort had his Grace been at full power, but that was not his current situation. His Grace still faded every day, and with every bit of it that burned out, lost forever as it morphed into nothingness, he grew more human, and in consequence, more prone to suffer under the vulnerabilities that came with such a title.

He could smell food, so he wandered slowly to the kitchen, where he found a small pile of what he quickly identified as pancakes sitting on a plate, which had been carefully placed at the center of the table, and next to which sat a small rectangular piece of yellow paper.

He picked up the piece of paper before doing anything else, finding words written on it in Dean’s handwriting, marked on the surface with black pen ink.

**_Went to town to get some things done. Will be back in a few hours. Made you breakfast._ **

**_Dean._ **

Castiel felt the corner of his lips being pulled upwards as a smile formed on his lips. To most people, those words might sound normal, even rushed and just plainly objective, but he knew Dean well enough to tell they were anything but.

It still felt unreal, to know Dean would come back to him. Everything that had happened in this cabin still felt like a dream to him; like merely yet another fantasy created by his wishful imagination. For weeks, he had been sure he would never see Dean again, but somehow Dean had found him here, against all odds.

To be honest, Castiel still found everything that had happened during the last month rather difficult to process.

The day he had healed Sam in Omaha, Castiel had been sure he would die soon. The notion of it, the awareness that his death was once more approaching had dawned on him in that hospital room while Dean struggled to help him stand. His strength was slipping through his fingers, fading away and making the room around him swirl dangerously, ridding him of his balance and making it hard to stay conscious. He was weaker than he had been in a long time after healing Sam, perhaps since Crowley had all but forced Adina’s Grace down his throat a few months before, and he had realized in that moment that maybe saving Sam’s life would be the last thing he would do.

Somehow, he had not felt bad about it, or even saddened. He knew he deserved it; had for a long time now. He had been revived four times now, three times by his Father, and he still did not know why; could not fathom how he could have deserved each ressurection. He'd deserved to die, every single time.

And yet, he still wished he could do more, that he could remain on Earth for longer, as selfish as that might be, because there were still things to be done here. He had Claire to look after, even if the girl seemed to push him away every time he as much as attempted to help her, but he had indeed made progress with her, when she'd agreed to a phone call from time to time. And of course, he needed to help Dean and Sam deal with the Mark of Cain.

But if he wished to assist with that issue, he would have to slaughter another one of his kind, and that was something he refused to do. Enough of his kin had perished by the blow of his own blade and under the touch of his hand.

Castiel did not remember much after the hospital. He recalled Dean guiding him through the hospital hallways and settling him into the Impala, but after that, the memories became hazy and unfocused, like he was looking at the scene through dirty glass. He must have lost consciousness at some point, too, because the next thing that came to his mind as he attempted to remember more was Dean grumbling to himself and so obviously drunk lying on top of Castiel on a motel bed.

He had taken the poisonous effect of alcohol away from Dean’s body, also using Dean’s momentary lack of awareness of what was happening to assist to the hunter’s wounds, realizing that Dean’s injuries were far worse than he had originally thought. Sleeping had provided the rest he had needed to build up enough strength to heal Dean, and for that he had been glad.

Castiel had been very much aware of their proximity in that moment, but he had found no will to pull away. It was not the first time he had done so, that he had lingered too close into what Dean had often referred to as his 'personal space', but it felt different this time. Maybe it was his current closeness to humanity, for his desires felt stronger and harder to control with his Grace fading, though he knew that part of the blame for his acting so boldly could also be put on the fact that was just so _tired_ of denying what he wanted, not only to himself, but to Dean as well.

Castiel had been aware of Dean’s attraction since it had first begun so many years ago, though at the time, he had not been sure how to understand it, or what to do about it. Confused and unsure, he had decided simply ignoring its existence would be the wisest route to be taken. He could still feel it, the longing coming from Dean almost constantly, even when Castiel had been all but Fallen during the Apocalypse. Even at his weakened state, with his Grace cut off from the Host, he had been able to feel the tendrils of want and desire that seemed to emanate from Dean almost constantly.

He had been on Earth for a little over a year when he had at last started to truly question what those feelings meant, growing intrigued by them and how they did not seem to lessen over time, but all the knowledge he had available in his mind about human interaction had come from either Jimmy Novak’s memories or what little information he had managed to pick up from observing humanity throughout the years he had been assigned to watch it, so he had not been able to reach any conclusions on his own. There had been so much he could not understand, so many aspects that still confused him, that it took him months to actually grasp what exactly all the different emotions he could pick up from Dean might mean.

Still, Castiel would never address it.

Sometimes he felt similar things to those emotions from other people whenever he allowed his Grace to wander, his conscious to spread and brush against other beings’. He had felt it strongly at the brothel, from the prostitute Dean had insisted Castiel spent time with, though it had not been quite the same. The feeling from that girl was raw, nothing more than pure hunger and desire of the flesh, while everything that came from Dean felt much more potent and complex, with layer over layer of different emotions Castiel could not even begin to comprehend, even with his few millennia worth of knowledge stored in his mind.

Meg’s attraction had also been unmistakable, so much stronger and insistent than what he’d caught from the prostitute, though not even close to what Castiel felt coming from Dean. Again, the feeling from Meg was raw, almost pulsating with nothing but physical desire, lust in its barest form, and he assumed the fact that she had been a demon was to blame as to why it had felt so intense. Still, it lacked all the different layers Dean would project, the different emotions Castiel could not even hope to fully understand one day.

He would often compare the signals he received from Dean to what he could feel from Sam. The difference was unmistakable. Whenever Sam prayed to him, asked and wished for the angel’s presence, the feeling was not quite so strong; the _need_ for Castiel to answer was not desperate and pleading, such strong longing it was almost physically painful for Cas to ignore a call, like it happened whenever Dean reached out to him.

The prayers from Claire had been desperate as well, indeed, but for a whole different reason. They were pained, begging, coming from a child who still had hope to see her father again. There was no warmth to her words, however, no hint of the friendliness that came with the Winchesters’ prayers. Anger coated her every syllable, slowly turning into hatred as the girl grew older and realized that Castiel would not bring Jimmy back to her. The prayers had stopped after a few years, unsurprisingly.

Dean had always been different, for reasons Castiel had not been able to explain for years. He had liked him at first, as Uriel had pointed out at the time, admired the human even, and that had led Castiel being violently reprimanded in Heaven for beginning to express human emotion. Angels were not allowed to _feel_ , and Castiel had been aware of that. But if he was honest, he had not realized it had been happening until he had been called to Heaven and all but shouted at and threatened by his superiors, ‘shown his place and made sure he knew where his loyalty laid’, as they would have called it.

Castiel hadn’t understood what it was about Dean at the time that awed him so much. Perhaps it was the human’s soul, so bright and pure, much more than the one of all humans around him. The beauty and power of it, even so deep down in Hell, had been surprising. Dean’s soul had looked like a beacon in the darkness, so full of light it and so clearly not tainted, even after spending so many years amongst nothing but pure pain, torture and despair. It had called out to Castiel, making him act like a fly attracted to a light bulb, its light alluring and inviting, for reasons the angel had for years failed to understand.

He soon learned it was more than that, however, that had made him admire the human. Dean was selfless, loving, caring, he would put the life of a complete stranger before his own if the situation presented itself without a second of hesitation. He was a true hero, in every sense of the word, even if the hunter himself might not agree.

His admiration for the hunter grew with every day at a startling rate. He would often catch himself worrying for Dean, sometimes merely wondering what Dean might be doing, what kind of hunt he and his brother might be working on, and he often wished to join them.

The longing did not stop when Castiel returned to Heaven after the Apocalypse had been averted. If anything, the constant flow of emotions that seemed to daily flood his mind, a clear, loud echo of Dean’s desire for his presence, grew stronger than before, more insistent. Dean did not pray to him during that time, however, but Castiel did not need a formal prayer to know the hunter requested his presence.

By that time, he already knew he and Dean shared some sort of profound bond, one he did not share with Sam, even if he had raised both brothers from Hell and known the two humans for similar periods of time. His connection to Dean had always been stronger; Dean had always been different to him.

Castiel could not risk visiting Dean during his time in Heaven. If Raphael had ever found out about how much he had grown to care for Dean, the Archangel would have used the human against him, and that was something Castiel had done everything in his power to avoid at all costs, even if that meant not once allowing himself to see Dean.

The only time he had allowed himself to fly to the house where Dean had been residing with the human woman and child (a knowledge that made him feel things he could not understand, like a feeling of hostility towards the woman, Lisa Braeden, even without ever formally meeting her), Crowley had appeared before he could ask Dean for his help. At the time, his deal with the demon had seemed like the right thing to do, especially since it kept Dean out of harm’s way. The hunter would not have to be involved in the war against Raphael, which had been what Castiel had wished for all along. He would remain living with Lisa and Ben, and he would finally have the normality Castiel had so strongly wished Dean could have, after having it ripped out of him when merely a child. Dean deserved that, and Castiel wanted him to have it; to have at least one shot at happiness, at a long, safe life without hunting and all the life threatening dangers that came with it.

But that hadn't last long, and soon enough Dean had found out about Sam being free from the Cage, which had tossed Dean right back into the battlefield.

Things had spiraled out of control once Dean discovered the deal. Castiel could still see it all too clearly—the look of betrayal on Dean’s face once Castiel confirmed that he had indeed been the one to raise Sam from the Cage without a soul (even if he had not been aware of Sam's situation at the time), that he had been working with Crowley throughout the past few months, as well as the despair and anger that had been focused on him from Dean after he'd broken Sam’s wall. Castiel had truly hated himself for it, but everything had spun out of control once the old, powerful souls caged inside of him had started taking over his vessel, so he hadn’t had time to fix it before he was walking into that lake, fading away under the power of the Leviathan.

During his time with Daphne, living as a faith healer called Emmanuel, Castiel had still been able to feel the longing coming from Dean, but it had been distant, like an echo that somehow reached him through a thick wall. The signal was weak, damaged, and he had never understood what I meant. How could he know, anyway? In his mind, he had been human. Gifted, indeed, but still nothing but human.

The time between transferring Sam’s insanity to himself and the death of Dick Roman resided in his mind in blurry, confused memories, most likely due to his mental instability at the time.

But he did remember Purgatory very clearly.

Purgatory had been the first occasion in a long time in which Castiel had felt completely clear headed. All the time he had spent in that awful place had allowed him to think, to consider every single detail he had throughout the previous years failed to see or comprehend.

It was during his time in Purgatory that he had come to realize that what Dean must feel for him was not simply physical attraction, and most definitely not simply some sort of brotherly friendship, like Dean had for years attempted to make him believe. The hunter’s prayers were laced with so much despair, so strongly confident that he would find Castiel in that land of monsters and would take him home, practically begging for Castiel to give him a sign that he was still alive—all of it, along with the years of memories of all the signals he'd received from the human, helped Castiel put together the puzzle he had been struggling with for years.

And it scared him, because he knew the feelings Dean so clearly had for him were not exactly one-sided.

Angels were not allowed to feel human emotions, and for thousands of years, Castiel had believed it not possible. However, he had learned it was in fact possible once he met Dean, although he would constantly remind himself it was forbidden for him to _feel_ those emotions in the first place, so he'd always ignore them, bury them in a dark, secluded corner of his mind. But that had never been enough to make them stop; it actually turned out to be completely fruitless. But why was he different? Why could he  _feel_ , when no other angel was able to? What was wrong with him?

He had convinced himself he was not worthy of returning to Earth in Purgatory, not only because of the massacre of so many of his own kin in Heaven, but also for being an anomaly, a poor example of an angel that did not deserve such a title. He did not understand why his Father had saved him once more, and yet again he could not fathom what that meant. He did not deserve to be alive, not after everything he had done. He was certain of it.

But Dean had been insistent, and he had somehow found Castiel in that endless forest, even with Castiel attempting every day to keep a distance between them, to keep the hunter safe from the Leviathan and any other threat the magnetic presence of a seraph might bring upon him in a land of monsters.

Lying to Dean had been awfully hard. It had been almost physically painful to allow the hunter to believe Castiel would return to Earth with him while Castiel knew he could never do that. Letting go of Dean’s hand at the mouth of the portal to Earth had been even harder, but Castiel had managed, staying back in the land of bloodthirsty creatures, monsters in every sense of the word, which was where he belonged.

He did not remain in Purgatory for too long after that. He had been returned to Earth by an unknown force a few weeks after Dean had left, for reasons he could not even begin to comprehend. He knew he had been rescued, but he could not understand why, nor did he have any idea who could have done it.

And once he was back on Earth, it had been easy to find Dean, although reaching out to the human had turned out to be extremely difficult while not being at full power.

The longing, the desire, the pure despair coming from Dean was almost suffocating, so impregnated with guilt sometimes Castiel wished he could shut it out while he looked for the hunter; while he did everything he could to reach him. He could feel Dean’s pain, his guilt, his mourning, all of it in his head as if it were his own, and it was so painful to endure it Castiel could barely manage a coherent thought during that time.

He had finally made sense of his own feelings by the time he reached Dean, though he was fearful of what that might mean; of allowing anything to happen between them. Naomi had been of not help, as she had looked into his mind and discovered his emotions, deeming them rotten and inferior, claiming that he was incapable of acting like an actual angel, but that she had a way to fix him.

Naomi had toyed with his mind, attempted to control him and erase any trace of humanity she could find right down to his very core. She had even forced him to kill dozens upon dozens of copies of Dean, training him like an attack dog, mindless and obedient.

Fortunately, her plan had failed.

It had been in the crypt, holding his blade up and staring down at Dean’s beaten down, sliced up face, that Castiel came to the scariest realization of his entire existence.

He loved Dean Winchester.

Perhaps he had been aware of it, though he had never acknowledged it until that moment. But as he felt his grip on his own mind slipping through his fingers as he fought to regain control of his vessel, Castiel found himself holding onto that notion, of everything he had felt for Dean throughout all those years, focusing on how much it hurt to see Dean in pain before him, how much despair he felt at the thought of losing him, especially by the action of his own hands.

That avalanche of emotion had been enough to break the connection to Naomi, freeing Castiel from her mind control for enough time for him to touch the Angel Tablet and severe the connection permanently.

Castiel regretted fleeing that night now that he considered how things might have turned out differently if he had stayed. He would not have lost the Angel Tablet, which might have somehow prevented the Angel Fall that followed a few weeks later, but he had been disoriented and scared, and the time he had spent on the run with the Tablet had allowed him to actually organize his thoughts and consider the consequences of his feelings for Dean.

It had been after the Fall, when he was human and lost, wandering through dirty streets and shelters, his body (which had never felt so much like his own as it did then) demanding nutrition, hydration, relief of the unwanted products of his endless ingestion of food and water and of course, the constant need for the rest that came with sleep, that Castiel allowed his mind to conjure up images, scenarios of what might happen if he and Dean ever got involved. He wanted it, he truly did, the desire for it stronger than it had ever been before, and the thought of having Dean like that was his main driving force as he tore his way through the country, headed to the Men of Letters bunker.

As a human, everything had been much more intense, and Castiel had not been sure how to handle it at all. It was all so overwhelming he had given in to the temptation April had brought onto him, the carnal relief their encounter had brought truly exhilarating.

But when he was finally in the Bunker, Dean told him he couldn’t stay.

It had been a surprise to Castiel. He had yearned for it, almost constantly dreamed about it—the safeness provided by the underground fortress for weeks, many times fearing he might not make it there, but somehow finding the will to continue as the promise of a safe place to rest had given him the strength to continue. Hearing Dean, the one soul he had been aching to see and hold, telling him he was not welcome there had been a complete shock to him.

For months, he had felt hurt, betrayed even, giving up on his foolish and naïve idea of telling Dean how he felt, of opening up to the hunter in ways Castiel had been too afraid to do so until now. Dean did not want him, as Castiel had previously thought he did. Castiel had been wrong. The ache in his chest that notion had brought to him was so real he had for a long time believed he might have actually developed a cardiac problem.

When he had barbarically stolen Theo’s Grace, Castiel had believed his restored status as an angel would dull the unwanted desires he had developed as a human. His emotions had felt so much stronger, so much more intense as a human, as had the carnal desires he had once thought impossible for him to ever have. He had imagined they would be dulled once he had Angelic Grace coursing through the veins of his vessel again, that they would be gone and everything would be back as it had once been.

He had been wrong. The desire, the worry, the love—everything he had felt so strongly as a human had remained, even if he was once more an angel.

Of course, he had soon learned that Dean had only asked him to leave the Bunker at Gadreel’s request to save Sam’s life, and Castiel understood it, he truly did. But he had already changed his mind on the matter of opening up to Dean about his own feelings. The idea had seemed so obvious in his human mind, though he had been confused at the time, disoriented and overwhelmed by humanity. As an angel, however, his mind had been clearer, and he had soon judged it as wiser that in the tensed situation between them, the mutual care and want should not be pursued, for both their sakes.

Throughout the entire year that followed, Castiel had resisted. As hard as the temptation to pull Dean into his arms had been every time he could see the hunter was struggling, to tell him he was loved when the hunter so clearly lost faith in himself, to hold him and try to make him understand that he was not alone, to tell him how bright and beautiful his soul was and that something so pure could never be tainted, not even by the influence of the Mark of Cain, Castiel did not allow any of it to happen.

That was, until Omaha.

To be honest, Castiel had been tired. Dean was _there_ , and he wasn’t pushing him away, and it had just been so easy for Castiel to pull him in and kiss the hunter’s forehead. He had never felt an urge so strong; a temptation so hard to fight as he found his lips lowering to touch Dean’s.

That night had been much more than the fantasies his mind had managed to conjured up over the years, in the rare times he'd allowed his thoughts to wander. It had been nothing like his time with April, when he’d been driven by nothing more than pure desire and curiosity. No, his night with Dean had been much more than that. To have Dean so close to him, so open and touching him everywhere, to have him allow Castiel to see him at his most vulnerable state; Castiel had no words to describe what that had felt like.

The sensations were overwhelming, the heat and tingle of skin touching, the shiver that ran through his body every time Dean touched him, the gasps and sound that he could not control as they escaped his parted lips, resonating with the ones that reached his ears, coming from the human below him. Everything had been so intense and new it was no surprise he had lost control of his Grace and bonded with Dean.

What he could not understand, however, was how the bond had been formed in the first place.

The touch of an angel’s Grace and a human soul should not be enough to form a soul bond, just as the touch of two angel Graces was not enough to form a mated pair. But his Grace had grasped Dean’s soul so tightly, wrapped itself around it with such eagerness, that it had happened. And Dean’s soul had _welcomed_ the connection, allowing Castiel’s Grace to claim it as a part of itself. No human soul should be able to handle a connection like that so easily, but Dean’s soul was just as bright and strong as it had been before the bond, although still influenced by the Mark of Cain.

Dean’s soul had welcomed the bond in a way that had seemed impossible in Castiel’s head. The ritual he had read about to bond a human soul to an angel’s Grace was usually painful to the human, just as it was exhausting, a way to force the soul to allow the connection to be formed. But Dean’s soul had done it on its own, and Castiel could not understand how. It should be impossible, and yet, it had happened.

Castiel could not bring himself to regret it. There had been times when he had wondered what could happen if a connection like that between him and Dean could be possible, although he had always known it could never happen. He had been told throughout countless centuries that a mating bond between an angel and a human could never happen, and that one should never attempt it.

Of course, by the time he'd met Dean, he knew it had happened before. Stories of the time when a few angels had discovered what would happen if a bond between a human soul and an angel’s Grace was formed were told until this day in a form of teaching and warning angels of what could happen were something like that to ever be repeated.

It had happened a few millennia ago. A few angels had gone rogue after Lucifer was cast out, which had been a moment of disorientation to Heaven as a whole. Castiel remembered the commotion well.

Just as Gabriel had done, some angels had fled Heaven, although unlike the Archangel, those angels did not simply hide on Earth. They had mingled with humanity in ways no angel ever had before, doing things that had been strictly forbidden at the time, and that had led to a very dark time in Angel History, for it had been those angels’ actions that had led to the creation of the Nephilim.

Half-human, half-angel—a nephilim was considered to be an abomination. They were powerful, though twisted in ways Heaven saw as nothing but dangerous. They were not as powerful as an angel, but were enough to be threatening, for an angelic creature prone to human emotions was to be considered an anomaly that had to be destroyed.

Castiel did not entirely believe that. He still felt guilty for killing the only nephilim in existence while believing he was completing the Trials to close the Gates of Heaven, following Metatron’s plan without knowing the other angel's true intentions. He had been told nephilims were monsters throughout his entire existence, but he had not seen anything worth of such title in the girl he had killed. She had not been a threat to him, not a first, and yet, he had erased her at Metatron’s request.

Nephilim were not dark creatures by nature. Castiel could not see how blame could be placed by the single matter of existing, although the creation of a nephilim would come at the cost of the human life who had conceived it, for the ritual to create the nephilim would drain the human soul to the very last drop of energy. Most humans would slip into a state that resembled a coma while they carried the nephilim, while the ones that didn’t would be extremely compromised. In all cases, however, with no known exception, the human would not survive the birth.

After born, the nephilim would be cared for by the angel who had created it. Being rogue angels, the intentions behind such actions had been dark and filled with hatred, so it was understandable why the angels responsible for the Nephilim had been put down, along with their offspring. What Castiel did not understand was the fact that the nephilims were considered to be of fault somehow. He did not understand how a creature could be considered guilty of simply existing.

Letting out a sigh, Castiel snapped out of his reverie as his stomach growled in complaint, loudly requesting nutrition. The sight of the pile of pancakes on the table was inviting and its smell was mouthwatering, drawing him in.

So Castiel sat down to eat, deciding he should stop thinking about such sad, dark times. The Nephilim had been born a long time ago, so long it was not worth it for him to think so thoroughly on the subject in the present. The nephilim he had murdered for Metatron had been the last of its kind, and there was no need to insist on a subject that was now long since gone.

He had much more urgent matters to care about at the moment.

Castiel was almost done with eating his third pancake when the angel felt the bond flaring up, warning him that his mate was getting closer. Dean must be returning to the cabin. He smiled at that thought, no matter how guilty and ashamed he still felt about the forming of the bond itself. He had lost control and not been careful enough, and now the bond might end up killing Dean in the end, all of it because Castiel had lost control for a mere moment.

What made him feel worse, however, was the fact that even knowing he should not, he did not wish to break the bond. He wanted to have Dean as his mate, his companion, as a part of his own self, merged with the very essence of his being for all of eternity. He had never wanted something so strongly in his entire existence. He longed to be able to call Dean _his_ without the fear of being the reason for his mate’s death and the knowledge that the bond could not remain.

Dean had seemed intent on finding a way to fix their current situation without breaking the bond by achieving the impossible task of tracking his lost Grace. It made Castiel feel so happy, realizing that Dean might also wish to keep the bond, even though the human did not fully understand it yet, did not entirely comprehend the implications of it. Dean did not know just how much it meant to be bonded on a soul level to another being, but he seemed to have embraced the situation in a way Castiel had not expected him to.

The mere thought of breaking this bond made Castiel’s chest ache, but he knew they had no other choice, no matter how confident Dean seemed to be that they could find Castiel’s original Grace. Castiel doubted there was much of it left, if any at all. Dean’s plan would not work, no matter just how much Castiel wished it would.

But for now, while Castiel did not find another spell that could break this bond without putting Dean in danger, since the previous one had failed terribly, the bond would stay, and Castiel would enjoy the little time he would have while mated to Dean Winchester. That single thought was enough to bring the smile back to his features, selfish as the emotion might be.

Oddly enough, Castiel was not too worried about Heaven’s reaction to the bond, though he would try not to drive any attention to himself for the time being. It would only make things even more complicated if Heaven knew.

He wondered what his past self would have thought of this situation. He would most likely be revolted, unwilling to believe himself even capable of half the things he'd done throughout the past few years. Oh, how the times had changed.

When Dean finally arrived at the cabin, however, Castiel instantly felt a wave of agitation that did not belong to himself wash over his being. Dean was projecting through the bond again, which tended to happen with strong emotions, like the human had done with his anger the day before. This felt different, however; Dean did not feel angry, just… worried, Castiel guessed. There was something else, though, another emotion the angel could not entirely grasp.

The door was pushed open soon after Castiel heard the sound of the Impala's engine growing quiet, and just as expected, Dean did not look calm at all. He still flashed a genuine smile at Cas once he was inside the cabin, though.

“Hey,” the human greeted him as he walked over to the kitchen, where the angel was just finishing his last pancake, “Enjoying breakfast?” He was carrying two thermal cups, from which the delicious smell of coffee emanated.

Castiel managed a small smile at that, although his insides were filled with worry; his own this time. There was something wrong, he could tell that much, and now Dean could not exactly hide it from him anymore, like he used to. The bond would not allow it. “Yes. These pancakes are delicious.”

Dean’s smile widened a little, while a blush spread over his neck to his cheeks. He shrugged lightly, the gesture almost shy, “Yeah, well, I tried.”

Castiel knew he was being modest, though he also knew that part of that response could be explained by the fact that Dean still seemed to find it hard to admit to being good at something like cooking, a trait that seemed to have been engraved into his mind throughout the years, mainly by his father, John Winchester. It was saddening, and while it was something Castiel wished he could change, he doubted he would ever be able to.

Dean walked over to the table, holding one of the cups toward Cas in a silent offering. “I haven’t had one of these in a few days,” Dean smiled at the angel, who for a moment got lost in the almost intoxicating smell of the hot beverage being handled to him, reaching the angel’s nostrils with more intensity now that it was this close, “Black, two packets of sugar, right?”

Castiel nodded, smiling at Dean in spite of his current preoccupations. He could certainly drink coffee at this moment; it usually helped him a lot. “Thank you.” He took the cup from Dean and raised it to his lips, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid. He had grown accustomed to drinking coffee even as an angel, a habit he had developed while human, but that had lingered, even after he’d regained his angel status.

The beverage was not enough to drive his thoughts away from his current worry, however, and after swallowing his second mouthful of coffee, now feeling much more awake than before, Castiel decided to address a matter he believed to be more urgent at the moment.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean shrugged once more, taking a small sip from his own coffee as he leaned against the edge of the small kitchen isle behind him. “I’m fine, Cas. Why?”

“You seem agitated,” Castiel commented, knowing fully well that would not be enough to get Dean to open up. At that thought, he added, “I can feel it through the bond, Dean. You are worried about something.”

Dean frowned at that, apparently surprised, or maybe displeased to know he had been projecting his emotions to Castiel, as it often seemed to be the case. However, whatever the reason for his worry was, Castiel could not read it. Apart from the agitation, there was no other emotion strong enough to spill through the bond for the angel to examine at the moment.

“What is it?” Castiel probed, speaking much more gently this time, treading with care and patience, just as he had learned to do around Dean. It seemed to be the best way to get Dean to talk when the hunter so clearly did not want to.

It still took a short moment of silence, but Dean finally gave in at one point. He let out a heavy breath, his stance relaxing just a little bit, though the tension that was so obvious in his muscles remained almost completely.

The hunter did not respond right away. Instead, he set his coffee onto the table before he inserting his hand into the inside of his jacket, pulling it out a moment later to hold up an object for Castiel to see.

It was a folded newspaper, Castiel could instantly tell, although he could not understand the reason why Dean was showing that to him, or what sort of information that piece of paper could hold that would be enough to get the hunter so agitated.

It was only after Dean unfolded the newspaper and dropped it onto the kitchen table in front of Castiel, allowing the angel to read the headline of one of the news articles printed out on the front page, that he understood.

“I think I found a case here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have a few comments to make on this chapter.
> 
> 1\. If anyone did not recognize it, the hunt Sam and Charlie are going on is the same one from 10x12, "About a Boy".
> 
> 2\. So, the whole thing about the Nephilim sounds a bit dark and everything, but I need a solid explanation as to why Heaven doesn't want them to exist, and why even now the angels might not be happy with another one being born. That particular subject will be addressed again and explained a lot better later, when the right time comes. ;)
> 
> 3\. The thing about the comatose state and the human not surviving the birth sounds a bit bad and might be a little worrying, I know, but I'd like to point out that a certain pair of angel and human just tends to be the exception to every rule in the book. I wonder why, though? ;)
> 
> 4\. What a friendly guy, paying for Dean's drink and looking out for him. Don't you all agree? ;)
> 
> 5\. Am I the only one who imagined a grumpy Cas wearing a pink trench coat and found it hilarious? XD


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you guys know what I learned? Coming up with weird cases is kind of hard. It actually took me a while, and this is the second version of the case, because I changed my mind halfway through writing the first one and I had to literally start over from the beginning. But, well, I'm actually happy with this one, it turned out just the right amount of weird I was looking for. :P
> 
> Also, I realized that in the last chapter I had Charlie say that the man in the case she found had disappeared leaving behind only his shoes, when in fact it was supposed to be his clothes. I already fixed it, and I apologize for the mistake.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains non-graphic description of animal attack wounds, child trauma and implied homophobia.

**'Man is attacked by wild animal inside his own house. Daughter blames her stuffed cat.'**

Dean watched as a frown took over Cas’ features while the angel read through the article, his eyes dancing over the page like he wasn't sure what to make of it exactly. It was a pretty weird story, after all, weird enough to be their kind of thing, but a little too weird to be a normal case. Dean had read the article a few times already, but the story still did not make much sense to him.

Still, it really did seem like their kind of thing. A man, Ronald Freeman, had been attacked by some unidentified animal inside his own house. There were no signs of entry or any sort of damage to any of doors and windows in the house, which had all been properly locked. That in itself was already definitely weird, but to make it even worse, the man’s daughter, Cynthia, had apparently seen the attack and claimed that her stuffed cat had been the one to do it.

He and Sam had looked into less, honestly, and anyway, there was just no way this was a coincidence. The attack had happened last night, and Dean had met the weird yogurt guy at a bar _this morning_. There was just no freaking way the two things weren't connected in some way.

“So, this man’s daughter actually believes her father was almost killed by a child’s stuffed animal?” Cas inquired, looking up from the newspaper once he was done reading. His frown had deepened gradually as the angel read through the words in the article, now having morphed into full blown confusion mode.

“Apparently, yeah, she insists she saw the whole thing.” Dean pulled back the chair beside Cas at the table so he could take a seat beside the angel. “She could be making it up, true, but that usually is not the case with kids. She must have really seen something.” Dean had worked cases with kids before, and usually people wrote whatever they said as kids letting their creativity added to trauma run wild after having seen something bad happen. But Dean had learned better than that over the years. It wouldn’t be smart to just ignore what the little girl said, no matter how crazy it sounded.

Cas nodded, apparently agreeing with Dean. “Do you think it was really the toy?”

Now that part was a little tricky, because he had never even heard of anything like that before, but honestly, after everything he’d seen over the years, he couldn’t just rule it out. “It’s a little too crazy for a normal case, but honestly, I wouldn’t just discard the idea.”

Once again, Cas nodded. “Have you ever worked a case like this?”

“Not really.” At least not weird to this extent. He had seen plenty of crazy, though. “Sam and I met an actual talking, giant, depressed stuffed bear that had come to life because of an antique magical coin thrown into a wishing well once. And there was this case with killer mannequins that had been possessed by a vengeful ghost.” Again, they couldn’t really rule out killer stuffed cat. “But whatever happened, the attack was pretty brutal. And I’m pretty sure I know who did it.”

If possible, Cas’ frown got even more intense. He was even tilting his head to the side now. It was cute. Not that Dean would say that out loud. “Who?” the angel asked.

“While I was in town, I went to a bar.” Dean winced internally, waiting for some reaction out of Cas; a scolding look, a reprimanding comment or at least something of the sort for almost going back to drinking when he had been trying so hard not to. Nothing came, though, much to Dean’s relief, not even a change in Cas’ expression. “I ordered some whiskey, but then some guy drinking yogurt on the side started talking about how I shouldn’t be drinking so early and crap. I asked him what he had to do with it, and he didn’t say anything. He just paid for my drink and walked away.”

Castiel was still frowning. “I do not understand the relevance of this story to the little girl who believes her stuffed cat attempted to murder a man.”

“I’ll get to that part,” Dean gestured with his hands a little with urgency, and Cas fell silent once more, “So, I turn back to the drink after watching the guy a little, because he just gives me this… weird feeling, you know? There was just something off about him. And when I lifted the glass to drink my whiskey, the glass was filled with freaking yogurt and my whiskey was gone!”

Cas nodded slowly in response, growing silent for a moment as he probably thought it all over in his head. “That does seem very suspicions, and judging by the low odds of both events happening in the same town a few hours apart while being unrelated, I would be inclined to assume the man from the bar would be our culprit.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dean took yet another sip from his coffee, “Problem is: I can’t find the bastard anywhere. He just vanished in the thin air or something outside the bar when I tried to go after him, and no one who was at the bar even remembers him ever being there, not even this guy he was talking to before leaving or the bartender, who, by the way, thought I was insane because _of course_ they don't sell freaking yogurt there." Dean shook his head in frustration. "It’s like he wasn’t even real.”

Cas seemed to mull it all over in his head for a moment. “Did you visit to the scene where the man was attacked?”

Dean shook his head in response. He had called the sheriff as soon as he'd found the article on the newspaper and asked about the case, only to find out that Ronald had woken up this morning, so he’d gone talk to the guy first. “No, I’m going there later. I talked to Ronald, though. Guy swears a mountain lion broke into his house and attacked him in his living room.” Dean had actually felt pretty bad for the guy. His face and most of his body were ruined, completely covered in claw marks. He’d have a lot of scars, but at least he was alive; he was very lucky for that.

Dean knew maybe he should have gone to the guy’s house to investigate, but he’d wanted to check on Cas, and he had said he would be back soon on the note. He just didn’t like the thought of Cas here in this cabin all by himself, not after what had happened the last time. Dean knew Cas wasn’t exactly vulnerable, but Dean still felt this protectiveness he couldn’t quite shake; this need to know Cas was fine, since he knew the angel wasn’t exactly up to full health right now.

Of course, that was also one of the reasons why finding a case in this town was honestly the last thing he needed right now. He wanted to make sure Cas was safe, and he couldn’t focus on both things at the same time.

“Then I will go with you,” Cas announced calmly.

It took a moment for the angel’s words to actually sink in. Dean blinked in surprise at them, before shaking his head almost vigorously. Cas had almost _died_ not two days ago, he needed to rest, not to work on a case and try to take on a monster, just like Dean knew Cas would want to do. The angel wasn’t ready for this, and he probably wouldn’t be until they found his actual Grace. For now, if it depended on Dean, Cas would stay away from _anything_ that even resembled trouble, and that obviously included cases.

Because if Cas tried to help and he got hurt; if something happened to him, and under Dean’s watch, no less…

No. No way. Nope. Not happening. “Cas, no, you can’t—”

“Dean, don’t.” Dean closed his mouth at the strong tone of Cas’ voice, eyebrows rising in surprise. The angel's voice lost the edge when he spoke again, though, growing softer as he said, “I am more than capable of accompanying you on a case, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, looking at Cas almost apologetically. “I’m not saying you’re not capable, Cas, of course you are, I know that.” He didn’t think the angel was incapable of going along on a case, of course not. Sure, he knew from experience that Cas wasn’t exactly good at talking to people, but the angel was extremely helpful, nonetheless. But right now, Cas wasn’t fine enough physically for a hunt. Dean just didn’t want him to get hurt, that was all. Was that too much to ask? “I’m just saying that I would feel better if you stayed here.” It wasn’t the whole truth, and Dean knew that, but that was the best he could manage at the moment. The idea of Cas alone in this cabin did not, in any way, set Dean’s mind at ease, not with some crazy magic psycho killer out there, but it was better than having the angel in harm’s way.

“Dean, I know you are worried, but you have no reason to be.” Cas shook his head lightly, his eyes almost sad as he looked at Dean, disappointed even. Dean hated it. “I am not by any means helpless, Dean. I can be of use in the hunt, you know that.”

The hunter could see it in Cas’ face, hear it in his voice, that the angel would not back down easily, so he decided to just blurt it all out. “Cas, you almost died.” As if Cas needed a reminder of _that_ , honestly, but Dean said it anyway. He had to get through the angel somehow. “You can’t just go around doing jobs after something like that and pretend you’re perfectly fine, not with your Grace burning out.”

Instead of agreeing with him and giving in, like Dean had so intensely hoped he would, the angel shook his head once more, a determined look on his face. Cas could be a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be. The look only lasted for a moment, however, before determination Dean had so clearly seen in the angel’s eyes faded away without a single warning, being instead replaced by a much softer look; the corner his lips tugged upward just barely to form a small, subtle smile. The change had been so abrupt Dean barely had time to process it, let alone figure out what I meant.

“Dean,” Cas’ hand came up to rest on his cheek, and Dean leaned into the angel’s touch without thinking, loving just how _natural_ this felt, having Cas touch him like this, like they had been doing this for years, which they kind of had, if he really thought about it, “Have you not stopped to think I, too, would worry for your safety, working alone on the case? Have you not considered I am not the only one whose life is at risk at the moment?”

Dean felt the urge to look down, barely able to hold Cas’ gaze due to the intensity he found in the angel’s blue eyes. There was so much in them, so many distinct emotions that Dean could not even begin to read them all, to try and understand them, process them and wrap his head around their meanings. It was overwhelming to say the least, and if he was honest, maybe a little scary, but not in a bad way.

“I would also feel very much better to have you stashed away somewhere, Dean, away from any and everything that could bring you harm, but I know I could never do that. You would never accept something like that, and neither will I. So, please, let me go with you.”

Dean knew Cas had a point. No matter what anyone said, Dean knew he could never stop hunting, could never walk away from the job. There was always something out there to be killed, and someone had to do it, or else who would? He could never just sit around and ignore the people that were dying out there, because if he did those deaths would be on his shoulders, the blood would be on his hands. He could never stay away from hunting, even if he tried.

Also, if he really thought about it, maybe having Cas by his side would help ease his nerves a little. He had felt anxious every single time he had left this cabin to go to town until now, worrying about Cas and fearing something might happen to the angel while he wasn’t there to help him, and that would be worse now with this case. He would have no way of knowing if something happened to Cas out here, if the killer found Cas here, and even if he did, Dean wouldn't be able to get to this cabin in time to do anything. Having Cas with him would take that worry away, at least, and that way Dean could keep an eye on him.

Dean didn’t like the idea of Cas being in the line of fire in his current state (he didn’t like that _at all_ ), and he definitely wasn't happy about this, but this was the best option he had here. And if Dean was still hoping he could still keep Cas out of the main fight somehow, well, he wasn’t going to mention it right now.

“Fine,” he breathed out a heavy sigh. It wasn’t like they could just leave and ignore the case like they hadn’t read anything on the paper, so Dean would just have to deal the situation the best way he could.

Castiel seemed pleased with the answer, smiling lightly and nodding, before raising his cup to his lips and taking a sip from his coffee. He made a face, frowning down at what Dean assume to be lukewarm coffee by now like it had offended him somehow, but for some reason didn’t stop drinking it.

Dean glanced down at his own cup, wondering just how much cooler the coffee was by now. He took a small sip, and then grimaced at the taste of barely warm coffee as it reached his tongue and descended his throat, leaving a terrible aftertaste in his mouth. “Ugh, cold coffee.” He set the cup back on the table, clicking his tongue a few times to try and get rid of the taste, to no avail. He hated cold coffee.

Castiel gave him an amused look, but did not comment.

The next few minutes were spent with Dean watching Cas eat the rest of his pancakes with this glint in his eyes that had Dean smiling softly. He made a mental note to make pancakes more often; Cas really did look like a kid on Christmas morning while eating it. Briefly, he wondered if Cas would like waffles, and added that to the list of things he should make at some point. Dean hadn’t thought too much of it when Cas had mentioned the day before that he could eat again, but now that Dean was actually watching how happy Cas was to be able to simply eat a meal, he felt a little warmer inside at the sight. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it, but that was yet another reason for them not to try and break this bond again.

However, what really had Cas smiling happened later on, when Dean told him he’d taken Cas’ clothes with him and gotten them cleaned in town. Again, Dean was jealous of the freaking trench coat.

When Cas was done eating and drinking both his own and Dean’s lukewarm coffee ( _“How the hell can you drink that, man? It’s gross.” “I actually enjoy it, Dean. It does not taste too bad after you get used to it.” “You’re a weird angel, you know that, right?”_ ), Cas went to take a shower while Dean began to change.

Dean shed his clothes in the bedroom to the sound of the shower running in the adjacent room, his monkey suit already waiting for him on the bed, all clean and neat, the sight of it almost mocking. He hated wearing a suit, he always had, and even though he had done it for years now, he still couldn’t get comfortable in that penguin vest. It was just tight and constricting in all the wrong places.

He already had his socks, shoes, pants, belt and white shirt on when he heard the shower stopping in the bathroom. He began looking for his tie, which he was sure he had put back in his duffel, but he couldn’t find it there, his back turned at the bathroom door as he rummaged through the contents of the bag, cursing under his breath because he couldn’t find the damn thing.

When he heard the door of the bathroom opening, Dean spun around, “Hey, Cas, did you see my tie any—”

_Oh._

Dean wasn’t sure why it surprised him so much when Cas walked out of the bathroom, a wall of steam from his apparently very hot shower following him into the room, completely naked.

 _Completely_ naked. No towel. Nope. Not a thing. Nothing. Nada.

Well, except for the one towel Cas was using to dry his hair, but that wasn’t covering anything, so yeah.

Dean’s eyebrows rose to his forehead at the sight of so much of the angel’s bare body, still glistering with the dampness of the shower, a few drops sliding almost lazily over his skin, and Dean could not help but follow the movement with his eyes, unconsciously licking his lips. He just wanted to taste that skin again, because it just had been so long; to lick and kiss and bite all over it, to feel it move under his palms…

He felt his dick twitch in his suit pants, immediately interested.

Sure, Dean had already seen Cas naked (twice now), but he had never stopped to actually appreciate what a marvelous sight that was. During the first time, he just had been too eager and blissed out and still not sure how to process what was happening to actually _look_ at Cas’ body, to savor every detail with his eyes like it deserved, to drink it all in. The second time, however, was a much scarier memory. He had been so freaked out and afraid that Cas might actually die when the fever had hit that he hadn’t even paid Cas’ nudity much attention when he’d laid the angel inside the ice-filled bathtub; he hadn’t even thought about it at all, to be honest. What kind of person would he be if he had, anyway? You don’t check out a dying friend; you just don’t.

But now? Dean could just stare away, no rush, no inhibitions, no fear that Cas might notice it and not like it, none of that.

And man, did Dean like what he saw.

Cas did not notice Dean’s staring right away. The angel had been too busy trying to dry his soaked hair with a towel and just making a bigger mess of it than it already was to notice it. He was already a few steps into the room when he finally met Dean’s gaze, freezing on his spot, small droplets of water dripping onto the floor and pooling at his feet. He paused where he stood, a shift clear in his eyes as soon as he seemed to notice what was happening.

“Does this make you uncomfortable?” The bastard was freaking _smirking_ , like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Dean right now. Was he testing Dean somehow? What exactly did it mean if he was? Dean had no idea.

“Uh, uncomfortable wouldn’t be the word I would use, Cas,” Dean chuckled a little, his eyes still glued to Cas’ exposed body as he spoke, taking it all in, even without his mind's consent. He felt like a hormonal teenager all over again whenever Cas was involved; it was actually kind of worrying just how little control he seemed to have over himself around the angel. He really needed to get a grip on himself if he still hoped to stick with the whole ‘taking things slow’ deal.

Cas’ smirk remained on his lips as the angel said, “I saw your tie in the living room last night.” Without another word, the angel walked past Dean and over to the bed, where his own (now clean) shirt and suit were, spread over the sheets along with his trench coat. That, of course, meant that Cas was giving Dean quite the view of his naked ass.

Honestly, all Dean wanted to do in that moment was throw Cas onto that bed and send all care to the wind. He knew they were supposed to be taking this slow, but that just got pretty damn hard when Cas put on a show like this.

But they couldn’t do anything right now, because if they didn’t leave soon, they wouldn’t get to town at a reasonable hour to ask around about the case.

And Cas just _had_ to lean over the bed like that, didn’t he?

Yep, and now Dean had a boner.

Before Dean lost his head and freaking _pounced_ on Cas, he walked out the room in search for his lost tie. He found it lying on the couch, where he had apparently left it the day before, but lingered in the living room for a few moments, both trying to wait for his erection to go down and for Cas to put on some clothes, because holy fucking hell he really didn't know if he could hold himself back if he had stayed in that bedroom for even a second longer. It was only after over five minutes at least that he walked back into the bedroom so he could put his tie on properly using the mirror, his dick finally having realized what a terrible timing it had.

Inside the room, he fortunately found Cas already dressed in his suit and coat, but with his back turned to the door, facing the mirror that hung on the inside of the closet.

“What do you think?” Cas turned around once he noticed Dean walking in, sounding as calm as ever, like absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened in that room a few minutes ago and allowing the human to see the striped blue and silver tie that was now wrapped around the angel’s neck. Dean didn’t even know he had it, giving it a surprised look. “Claire mentioned I looked better wearing it rather than without it.”

Dean examined the tie carefully, happy to have something else to focus his mind on other than, well, the image of a naked Cas parading in front of him, which was still very much fresh in his mind and didn't seem all too willing to go away. The tie was different than the one Cas had before, which had been entirely blue, and a darker shade too. This one’s tone of blue was… softer, lighter, but the biggest difference was the fact that it had diagonal silver stripes that covered its entire length. It looked different, sure, but it didn’t look bad; it actually made Cas look more serious. Claire did have a point here, Dean had to admit, and it actually sold the whole 'special agent' thing better too.

“I like it,” Dean answered truthfully, nodding lightly, “It looks good. Claire was right.”

Cas smiled widely at that, looking a little proud, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back.

An idea suddenly occurred to Dean, and he just couldn’t resist it, though he knew he should probably blame the fact that his brain was still not working properly since seeing Cas naked earlier for it. “Also,” He took a few steps toward the angel, enough to close the distance between them, smirking a little, “I get to do _this._ ” He grabbed the tie, pulling it forward so Cas would have to lean forward while leaning his head down himself so he could deliver a short, light kiss to Cas’ lips.

Cas didn’t let him pull away, though. A hand gripped the back of Dean’s head without warning and pulled him forward again when he began to lean back, and then Cas’ lips were moving against his, as if trying to mold themselves into their shape, sliding perfectly against Dean’s more than eager mouth.

Dean was surprised at Cas' eargerness, but he still tilted his head to the side to gain better access. He licked into Cas’ mouth, groaning when he felt the angel’s tongue shooting forward to meet his and causing them to tangle together. Cas groaned too, the sound reverberating through his throat and into his mouth, which went straight south and dove right into Dean’s pants.

Dean’s hands were sliding around Cas’ waist a moment later, wrapping the angel in his arms and pulling him against him, the warmth of the angel’s body emanating through his clothes as he was pressed flush against the hunter’s. One of Cas’ hands rested on Dean’s hip, tightening and squeezing the flesh under it while his other hand still held the human’s head in place by the back of his neck, dancing over the hair there and sending chills down Dean’s spine at the movements.

There was something else, though. A sense of warmness and heat that spread through Dean’s insides, like a strong wave of arousal, but much more potent than anything he'd ever felt before. It made his heart beat faster and his body shiver as it ran through his body. It made his entire being tremble with desire as his skin felt like it was on fire. All he wanted was to touch Cas’ skin; to feel the way the angel’s muscles moved beneath his hand; to throw him on the bed and ravish him, taste every single inch of his body with his tongue…

Dean actually _whined_ when Cas pulled away, searching for the lips that should be pressed to his mouth, and not moving away from him and forming words.

“If we don’t stop now,” Cas’ breath was labored, his voice heavy and even lower than normal, like a low rumble that seemed to echo in his chest and somehow crawl its way up his throat to leave his mouth, and the sound of it really shouldn't be so arousing, but damn it, it was, “I fear we will not leave this cabin today.”

Dean actually freaking shivered at what Cas was implying, panting with his eyes closed as he tried to calm down his racing heart before he had a heart attack or something. He had been on edge around Cas since he’d gotten here, but had been pretty successful at keeping a distance. Now all his work to keep things tame and slow was being thrown out the window. He almost, _almost_ said, ‘fuck the case,’ right then and there, if it meant he could kiss Cas some more; if it meant they would finally use the bed for something other than sleeping.

But he knew they couldn’t do that.

There was a case out there, and they really needed to get to Absarokee and see the attack scene while the sun was still up. They wouldn’t get anything done today if they didn’t, and the faster they were done with this case, the sooner they could go back to the Bunker. Also, he doubted anything his body wanted to do right now could fit into the category of ‘taking things slow’.

But if Cas had made that comment in the first place, didn’t that mean that maybe he didn’t want to take things slow?

Dean was just _so_ confused, and the apparent lack of blood in his brain definitely wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean muttered when he was feeling somewhat clear headed again, although his second erection in a span of fifteen minutes (again, he wasn't a hormonal teenager anymore, damn it) remained very insistent, showing proudly through his pants and making a tent through the dark fabric. At least the drive to town would take about an hour, which was more than enough time for his boner to go away. Or at least Dean hoped it was; with Cas around, he just never knew.

Cas nodded, the movement tight as the angel closed his eyes. Dean took a chance and looked down, realizing that yep, Cas also had a boner. That thought made Dean’s dick twitch in his pants happily, demanding attention, which was so not what Dean needed right now. His dick wanted to do the very opposite of leaving the cabin to work the case, and it was being pretty stubborn about it.

“I will…” Cas’ voice was still pretty wrecked, but there was more control in his words than before, his breath no longer coming out in labored puffs, “I will be waiting in the car.”

Dean nodded numbly in response, not finding his voice to say anything.

And without another word, Cas gave Dean a heavy, meaningful look with darkened eyes when he leaned away, before walking past the hunter and exiting the room.

Dean let out a breath, closing his eyes. It really didn’t feel like his erection was going away any time soon. And the look in Cas’ eyes just told him the angel knew _exactly_ what he was doing to him. Cas didn’t seem to be in a much different situation than Dean was, anyway.

For the hundredth time since Cas had woken up, Dean found himself wondering what exactly they were doing here. They had slept together once a month ago and kissed a few times since he’d gotten to this cabin, and also cuddled a little bit, but that had been it, and Cas had not made a single move to change that, except for maybe now. Dean wasn’t sure if he should initiate anything or wait for Cas to do it, but what if the angel was thinking the same thing as he was? What then? Someone had to make the first move here.

Shaking his head, Dean decided that was a train of thought for later. Right now, they had a case to solve, and that would need his complete and undivided attention for a few hours.

Keeping that thought in mind, Dean looked down at the floor, just then realizing that he had at some point dropped his tie on the floor. He hadn’t even realized he had done it, he just had been so distracted by Cas he hadn’t even felt it slip from his hand.

Bending down, he picked the garment up, running his hands over the fabric to make sure it was still presentable and clean enough to be worn, before turning back to the mirror to put it on.

When he was happy with his tie, Dean put on his suit jacket, adjusting it carefully. He still stood in front of the mirror for a while after he was fully clothed, trying to calm himself down a little by taking a few deep breaths. It took him a while until he finally forced his feet to move, walking out of the bedroom and over to the open front door of the cabin so he could leave. His dick was still not soft, though, and Dean was very much aware of it as he walked over to the Impala, inside which Cas was already sitting, looking out the window of the passenger seat and into the woods around the cabin with a calm, distant look in his eyes.

_Well, this is going to be an interesting hunt._

***~*~*~*~***

“So, I talked to Sam earlier,” Dean began as they drove into town, deciding that he was finally clear headed enough to have this conversation now that his boner had gone away for the time being and the silence inside the car had stretched on for a little too long.

Cas turned his head to look at Dean, tearing his eyes from the passing scenery to focus them on the hunter as a frown formed on his brows. He did not respond, but the wordless question for Dean to continue was clear in the angel’s eyes.

“He knew about the bond already. Crowley stopped by the Bunker and told him.” Honestly, Dean was still a little annoyed about that, though he supposed he should be glad that had been all Crowley had shared. Still, he would have preferred that he and Cas could have been the ones to tell Sam about everything, including the soul bond _._  “He knows I found you, and that we're in here in Montana, but that’s it. I didn’t…” Dean paused as he made a right turn, looking for the address he had been given on the Freemans and using it as an excuse to make a pause to formulate his words better in his head, “I didn’t tell him anything else, though. About, you know... us. I said I would tell him everything when we get back.”

Castiel nodded lightly at that, his eyes moving to focus on the road ahead once again, a thoughtful look taking over his sharp features. The angel was silent for close to a minute before he finally spoke again, and Dean had already assumed he just wouldn't say anything at all.

“I assume he did not react positively to the soul bond.”

Well, Cas wasn’t wrong about that. Sam hadn’t sounded happy about the whole soul bond thing at all, but he didn’t know the whole story, so it was kind of understandable. Dean knew his own reaction wouldn’t be good if the roles had been reversed and he had just learned that his brother's soul was bonded to someone else's from _Crowley_ , of all people.

“He doesn’t get it, Cas, and he kind of has a reason to. I barely told him anything over the phone.”

Cas nodded lightly once more, but really didn’t comment this time, instead allowing the slightly uncomfortable silence to take over the car once more. It was driving Dean mad, but he couldn’t find a way to break it, instead having no other choice but to let it last until they finally reached the Freemans’ residence a few minutes later.

The house was pretty normal looking, nothing out of the ordinary and exactly what you might expect to find in a small town. Well, except for the fact that there were police tapes around the perimeter of it to stop any curious passersby from trespassing, plus all the cars parked in front of it and the handful of police officers standing by the tapes, telling the curious people lingering around that they couldn't enter the scene. They paid no mind to Dean and Cas as the two approached the tapes, and Dean instantly ducked under one of the tapes, holding it up by his side for Cas to do the same.

“Agent Rogers!” The sheriff, whom Dean had already talked to earlier that day, hurried to walk over to the two of them the moment he spotted them entering the front lawn, nodding his head at Dean and giving Cas an inquiring look, clearly waiting for an introduction.

“Sheriff Parker,” Dean nodded at the older man, before gesturing to Cas with his head, “This is my partner, special agent Novak.” Cas had assured Dean that the only people whom he had had contact with in this town had been Bryan, from the cabin rental, and the guy who had seen him outside of Zoe’s Haven a few nights ago, and Cas had gone by Jimmy's name to rent the cabin, so Dean wasn’t taking any chances. Sure, the odds of anyone recognizing Cas here were very slim, but Dean really didn’t want to take any risks, so he’d suggested Cas should go by Jimmy’s name while they were working the case to avoid any suspicion.

They had even worked a whole cover story about how ‘agent Novak’ had been working the murder case from a few towns over from some time now, had gotten hurt while working on it and had needed some place safe to hideout while he waited for backup—that backup being ‘agent Rogers’, but ‘agent Rogers’ had not been allowed to share his real reason to be looking for Novak when he’d first gotten into town.

And now that another weird incident had happened close to their other case, they had thought it prudent to check it out. The reasons why the two cases could be related, of course, were not supposed to be shared.

The sheriff hurried to shake Cas’ hand, nodding once at the angel in greeting. “You two come to see the scene?”

“Exactly,” Dean nodded, “Anything to share yet?”

The sheriff shook his head, “Nothing much, just a lot of blood and claw marks on the floor. Can’t find anything anywhere else in the house, though. We have no idea how the thing got in and out without a trail or something behind. All the windows and doors were locked, and none of them was damaged in any way. Honestly, we don't even know if it even is a mountain lion at all. All we know is that whatever it was, it was pretty big.”

“We’d like to have a look around, if that’s possible,” Cas used his serious tone, the one where his voice got even lower than normal, which was often very compelling.

The sheriff was nodding not even a full second later. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

The first thing Dean noticed when he and Cas were inside was the blood. It was splattered around the floor in the living room, staining the beige carpet of a dark crimson tone. The claw marks were there, too, deep and clearly from something very big and strong. It didn’t look like anything Dean had ever seen before, though, maybe a werewolf, but he wasn’t sure. And anyway, a werewolf would definitely not have let the guy live, the moon cycle wasn’t right for it to be a werewolf and the guy had sworn whatever had attacked him had been a big feline of some sort. Maybe a skinwalker that shifted into a feline? Dean wouldn’t rule it out.

Still, that didn’t quite add up to the guy he had met at the bar or the whole stuffed cat thing.

Dean looked around for a while, trying to look for something that might give away the identity of the attacker, maybe a hex bag or something, because Dean had a somewhat strong feeling they might be dealing with a witch here, but he couldn’t find anything, not even a claw or fang to give them a hint of what kind of creature had been here, although maybe the animal control might have collected that already if the creature had left anything behind. Cas was looking too, but he spent more time just standing there, eyeing everything, probably feeling around the place with his angel mojo. That thought made an uneasiness settle in Dean’s gut, but he tried to push it away. Cas was better now, standing and healthy looking again, and it wasn’t like a quick scan of the room would drain him like the spell had, right?

Right.

“Dean?”

Dean was in the process of looking under the couch when Cas’ voice made him look back up at the angel, realizing then that the few members of the police force and animal control that had been in the room with them had at some point left. He hadn’t seen that happening; he had been too busy looking around to notice it until then.

By the look on Cas’ face, he had been waiting to call for Dean’s attention for a while, probably until they were alone so he could speak freely. He looked a little worried, and that made Dean stand up again in a flash, feeling wave of nervousness crawling its way through his body. Something that could make Cas worried was definitely not good.

“What is it?” Dean stepped over to where Cas was, just so the angel could speak lowly, in case anyone came back into the house. They really didn’t need to be overheard right now.

“I can feel something.” Cas’ eyes scanned the room around them, eyeing everything like he expected something to jump on them at any second. His gaze danced over the furniture like he feared it might come to life and eat them both alive.

This definitely wasn’t good.

“What do you feel? Can you tell what did this?” How bad could it be? Maybe bringing Cas along hadn’t been such a good idea. What if this was more than they could handle with Cas in such a weakened state? Damn it, Cas shouldn’t be here…

The angel shook his head lightly. “No. But I can tell it’s strong. Very strong. And definitely not a witch.”

Dean frowned at that, because that had been his best guess until now. “How can you tell?”

“There are no hex bags in this house. I would be able to feel them if there were."

Oh, well, there went pretty much half of Dean’s ideas, all right out of the freaking window. So all Dean was left of was skinwalker, though he still had his doubts about that one, considering skinwalkers didn’t have magical powers, and while it did add up with the attack scene, he couldn’t connect a skinwalker to the guy at the bar. Maybe a god, then? “You think there might be anything around here?” Maybe Cas could feel something still, another clue. Anything would be good right now, to be honest.

Cas frowned, looking around the room once more, concentration immediately settling into his features. He seemed to examine every single inch of the room with critical, attentive eyes, as though fearful he might miss an important detail if he didn’t look hard enough.

“I can only feel some sort of… residual energy,” Cas finally announced, “It feels familiar, somehow, but I cannot identify it. It certainly does not belong to a witch, because if did, the energy would feel much different than this.”

“Alright,” Dean ran his hand over his stubble, feeling the itch on his palm at the friction as he tried to think about anything else that could turn into a mountain lion. The list wasn’t very long. “What else could do something like this? Not a skinwalker, but something with power that can shapeshift, maybe? That is, if the girl did imagine the whole cat thing. If she didn't, though, what has the juice to turn a stuffed toy into a living animal other than a witch?”

Cas thought for a moment, still considering the room with sharp, careful eyes. “Maybe—”

“Agents,” Dean and Cas both looked up at the voice, startled to find the sheriff entering the house. Fortunately they hadn’t been talking when the man walk in, so he definitely didn't hear the conversation about skinwalkers and witches, or else they might have gotten themselves in trouble just then. “Ronald’s wife, Linda, just got here, if you’d like to talk to her.”

Dean nodded at that, happy to have something else to work with right now. “Yeah, sure,” he was quick to reply. This was just one of those cases where every single interview and questioning counted a lot. Details seemed to be the key with this one, because there wasn’t much to go by in the crime scene alone.

Dean stepped forward, and Cas quickly followed. The pair walked past the sheriff without another word, going straight to the front door through which Sheriff Parker had just entered the house. However, the man’s voice made them pause before they could get to the door, Dean’s hand hovering in the air between himself and the door handle.

“I just ask that you don’t question the daughter any more, agents.” When Dean turned to glance at the guy, he was surprised at the sorrowful look in his eyes, an almost haunted expression taking over his features. “The kid is pretty shaken up. She doesn’t want to talk anymore, and I don’t think we should make her.”

Dean nodded tightly. This was a small town, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, which made it perfectly understandable that the guy would feel almost responsible for the little girl. It was likely that this man had known her since she’d been born. Dean already felt pretty bad for her, and he didn’t even know her. “Of course,” Dean replied with a nod, deciding that talking to the wife should suffice for now. Dean doubted the girl would tell them anything different from what she had already told the police before, anyway, which would basically consist of a stuffed cat turning into a living creature and attacking her father.

Outside, a pretty redhead was talking to two officers, while one of them wrote down a few notes of whatever she was saying. She seemed distressed, nervously moving her hair around as she talked, constantly throwing it over her shoulders, only to pull it back to where it had been and tuck it behind her ear, then pulling it back forward again, like she couldn’t find a way to leave it. She kept glancing back at the car parked in the house driveway every few seconds, her gaze clearly worried. Through the window of the backseat of the car, Dean could see a little girl, probably the daughter, watching everything happening in front of her house with wide, fearful eyes. She looked truly traumatized, that much was obvious by just a quick glance. The sheriff had a pretty good point in not wanting them to talk to her.

Dean hurried over to where the woman was standing as the two officers began to step away from her, apparently done with their questioning. The woman looked relieved to see them go, but soon enough she looked up, tensing up as she caught sight of Dean and Cas clearly walking up to where she was. She looked tired, dark bags under her eyes, exhaustion written all over her face. Briefly, Dean wondered if she’d gotten any sleep at all after her husband was attacked. Probably not.

“Excuse me, ma’am. You must be Linda Freeman.”

The woman nodded, hugging her arms tightly around her thin frame, trying to protect herself from the cold wind that had started to blow at some point while they had been inside the house, making the air grow chilly around them and the temperature drop a few degrees. “Yes.” Her voice was weak, as if she didn’t have quite enough strength left in herself to speak normally anymore. She was truly exhausted, that much was plainly obvious.

“I’m special agent Rogers,” Dean flashed his badge at her, and then nodded at Cas, “And this is my partner, special agent Novak. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your husband’s… accident.”

“Everyone does.” Her tone was bitter, but not in a way that made her words sound hostile or rude, she just sounded… defeated, like she’d rather die than talk to them, and Dean wondered just how many times she had retold the same story up until now. Probably half a dozen, at least. “What would you like to know?”

“Just the basics. Records say you were not in the house at the time of the attack. Is that correct?”

Linda nodded weakly. “I was at my mother’s house. She lives just a few blocks away,” her reply was low, but her voice was strong, certain. She wasn’t lying, or at least Dean was pretty sure she wasn’t. “I left my daughter and Ron alone for just a few hours. But then when I got back…” Her eyes were glistening slightly, a clear sign that tears were forming and would soon start to fall. She seemed to hold them back pretty well, though, not allowing even one single drop to escape from her eyes.

“You are the one who found your husband?” Cas was the one to ask this time, speaking for the first time since they’d walked over to the woman.

Linda shook her head. “No, they were already loading him into the ambulance when I got here. Our neighbor, Mrs. Banes... She said she heard weird noises and called the police. When they got here, they went inside and found my daughter crying, and my husband lying on a pool of his own blood in the living room.”

“And which house is Mrs. Banes’?” Dean asked, making a mental note for another person they would have to interview.

“The one across the street.”

Dean glanced briefly at the small, one-story yellow house across the street. “Did she happen to mention exactly what she heard?”

Linda shook her head again. “No, just that she thought there was something wrong." She shrugged, and her voice wavered a little, the urge to cry clearly building up as she spoke, "I didn’t even get to thank Margaret for it. I haven’t talked to her after the attack, but I did try.”

Dean frowned, perking up instantly, because this seemed like the exact kind of thing they wanted to hear. Something confusing or weird, any kind of clue. “Why not?”

“Her nephew came by this morning to fetch her. It’s her brother’s birthday a few towns over, and she’s too old to make the drive alone, so he came to get her. They should be back tomorrow afternoon, I think.”

Oh, well, how convenient. The questioning of Margaret would have to wait until tomorrow apparently; that was, if she did indeed come back. This story was getting weirder by the second, and things were definitely not looking too good for Margaret at the moment. Dean already had a bad feeling about her.

“And your daughter,” Cas started before Dean could say anything else, “Does she really believe her stuffed animal attacked your husband?”

“Yeah, she does," Her shoulders rose and fell in a feeble shrug, "The doctors say she made it up in her mind and doesn’t accept any other story she hears, something about shock and trauma. She insists she saw everything, but you know how kids are with imagination and all. She’s always been a little too creative, but this can’t be good for her.”

Dean nodded lightly in agreement, once more feeling bad for the little girl. But although he still wasn’t ruling out the possibility that the little girl hadn’t made anything up, he certainly should not mention it to the woman.

Cas was the one who asked the question that had been wanting to jump off from his tongue since they’d started this conversation. “And where would this stuffed cat be?”

Dean kept his face calm, acting like the question was perfectly normal, even as he registered the way Linda frowned at the words, clearly confused by the weird question, like Cas might as well asked her to set fire to her own house.

She seemed to realize Cas was serious after a while. “It’s in her room, with her other toys. I don’t see how…?”

Dean smiled kindly at her, trying to calm her down, or else the woman might find the question too weird and get suspicious. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We just mean to say that maybe you shouldn’t leave it there. Maybe it wouldn’t do the kid good to have a reminder of the attack with her like that, if she really does believe the stuffed cat hurt her father. Maybe you should put it away or something for the time being.”

Linda nodded at that, apparently buying the explanation, her confusion slowly fading away from her face as she glanced back at the car, where her daughter still waited, watching everything that was going in front of her house with wide, terrified eyes. “You’re probably right. I’ll hide it in my closet or something, I think. She won’t see it there, and maybe when she gets better and Ron can come home she’ll forget this whole story. I would feel bad about throwing it away, it’s her favorite toy.”

“Of course,” Dean nodded lightly, flashing her another reassuring smile, "Just one more question: Do you know if your husband had any kind of... disagreement with anyone recently? Or if anyone could possibly have wanted to do him any harm?"

The woman frowned once more, her confusion now even more intense than when Cas had brought up the cat. She was looking at Dean like he had just grown a second head or something, or at least like she thought he was insane. "How could...? This was an animal attack. You're not implying...?"

Dean hurried to shake his head. "We're not implying anything. We just need to explore every possibility, ma'am."

Linda swallowed, clearly not convinced, her gaze weary as she let her eyes move back and forth between the two men before her. Finally, though, she shook her head. "Not that I know of, no."

Dean nodded at the response, flashing her yet another one of his calming, soothing smiles. “We just have a few more things to go over at the house, if that’s okay?”

Linda hesitated for a short moment before nodding slowly, her eyes still weary, but it was very easy to see the relief in her eyes when it became clear their questions for her were over. She looked even more tired than before, somehow, so much Dean was almost afraid she was going to just fall to the ground at any second now, passing out right there in the front lawn. “Sure, yeah, the sheriff still wants to talk to me too, so I’ll be out here if you have any more questions.”

“Alright, then,” Dean nodded once more, happy to hear Linda would be out of the house for still a few more minutes while he and Cas looked around a bit more. “Thank you for your time.”

Dean began to walk back over to the house, waiting until Linda was out of earshot to speak, though still lowering his voice to a quiet whisper, “Should we go take a look at that cat?”

Cas nodded slowly, although he wasn’t looking at Dean. His eyes were glued to the little girl, his gaze heavy and almost sad. “I believe so," he replied in a just as quiet tone, "The girl is truly terrified. I don’t think she imagined it.”

Dean could not help but agree, because it was true, the girl looked completely haunted and traumatized, and he doubted a colorful imagination would be enough to do that. “Alright,” Dean agreed as he opened the front door of the house, “So, what do you think about this Margaret lady?”

“The story does seem odd. It is too much of a coincidence for her to travel so soon after the attack. We should talk to her tomorrow, if she does indeed come back.”

“Agreed,” Dean walked into the house, Cas following close behind, “Let’s just take a look at the rest of the house and the cat, then we can get out of here.”

The pair ascended the staircase in the entrance hall slowly, going up to the second floor of the house. They lingered a bit in the upstairs hallway, where Cas paused to scan the place again, before they started looking for the girl’s bedroom, which really wasn’t hard to find. The pink, flowery walls, fluffy pink carpet and pink bedding covered in stuffed animals of all kinds were all pretty big giveaways.

There was only one stuffed cat on the bed, which made things even easier.

It was a normal looking cat—orange, with big green eyes and its mouth hanging open, a furry fake tongue sticking out.

“You feel anything in here?” Dean questioned as he examined the cat, turning it around in his hand.

“It’s fainter,” Cas replied, looking around the room carefully, the same sharp focus from before back in his eyes, “But I can feel the same energy in this room. It’s stronger on the toy.”

“So, what do you think?" Dean held up the cat as he talked, "Someone turned this thing into a mountain lion?” 

Cas looked at the cat for a moment, staring at it with careful, narrowed eyes. “It would appear so,” he concluded, nodding lightly. “It is simply a stuffed toy. Something must have used some sort of magic to transform it into a living animal. No danger should come from it now.”

Well, wasn’t that just terribly creative. Dean certainly had never dealt with anything like this before. “And it's definitely not a witch?”

“No, this is not the work of a witch,” Cas was still looking around the room, “I cannot feel any hex bags in this room, and the energy is very... peculiar. It must be something else entirely.”

Dean swallowed, giving the cat one last look before putting it back onto the bed, where Linda would probably come get it later on and hide it from her daughter. “Alright, let’s get out of here. I doubt we’ll find anything else in this house.”

Cas nodded silently in agreement.

A few minute later they were already out in the Impala, eyeing the house across the street from the car as the sun set in the distance. They had walked over to it and rang the doorbell a few times, only to find out that Margaret was indeed not home, or at least she wasn't answering the door. So they would have to come back tomorrow, and if she wasn't there, they would just have to help themselves to get inside and look around to see if they could find anything suspicious anywhere.

“I asked the sheriff to call me in case anything else came up,” Dean announced as he hesitated to start the car, his key hovering over the key in the ignition without turning it, “I can’t get reception in the cabin, though. Maybe we should stay in town for the night.”

“It would be wiser. And we can be here earlier and wait for Margaret to arrive.”

Dean nodded at that, finally starting up the engine and guiding the Impala away from the Freemans' house. He drove around town for only a few minutes until he found a motel that didn't look too bad. He knew where the bed and breakfast was, but he couldn’t risk going there. The maintenance guy could recognize Cas, and even with the backstory they had worked up for this case, they really shouldn’t push their luck more than they already were by just being in this town, so Zoe’s Haven was out of the question. It was easy enough to find a decent looking motel, anyway, and Dean hurried to park Baby in the small and mildly full parking lot, choosing a spot away from the other cars because he just didn't trust anyone around her.

It was already dark by then, the night having just started, and honestly, he was already feeling pretty tired.

“I’ll get us a room,” Dean announced as he turned off the Impala’s engine. He looked over at Cas, hesitating a little as he glanced at the angel, a question hanging at the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite voice.

He knew he and Cas were together, or at least something like that, but they hadn’t exactly talked about this, and Dean still had a few doubts. Okay, he had a lot of doubts, so many that he was pretty much going mad because of them. Sure, he and Cas were sharing a bed at the cabin (and even cuddling a bit in their sleep), but that was the only bed there was in that place anyway. What if Cas wanted separate beds? What if Cas wanted separate _rooms_?

“Okay,” Cas replied, and Dean mentally relaxed a little. Cas didn’t protest at the prospect of having just one room, so that was already something.

“Can you get the bag out of the trunk in the meanwhile?” Dean tried to be subtle with his request that Cas stay in the car while he talked to whoever was at the front desk, hoping he wouldn't question it or ask to come along. It wasn’t that Dean was ashamed of Cas or anything like that, of course not, but he didn’t want Cas to come with him if he did end up asking for a room with only one bed. This was a small town, after all, and while he had no idea who the person at the front desk was or even if they would have something against that, but he didn't want to risk it. Dean really didn’t want to risk exposing Cas to some homophobic asshole who would probably realize they were together when two guys asked for room where they would have to share a bed and might find it within their right to say something about it. Dean had made that mistake once, with a one night stand a few years ago, and he definitely didn't want to repeat the experience. But most importantly, Cas didn’t need to go through that.

“Of course.” Cas grabbed the keys Dean handed him so he could open the trunk and exited the car.

Dean watched the angel round the car before he got out of the Impala and made his way to the motel’s office to get them a room.

There was a short guy wearing thick glasses standing behind the front desk, who looked up instantly when Dean walked into the room. He looked young, probably just out of his teen years.

“Goodnight, sir.” The guy politely nodded at him, standing upright and puffing out his chest a little, probably because of the suit. “How can I help you?”

“I need a room for the night,” Dean answered as he got to the desk, reading the name ‘Austin’ on the guy’s nametag, “What do you have tonight?”

Austin looked down at the book lying before him, letting his fingers hover over the page, dancing over the neatly written letters. “I have four singles, five twins and three doubles vacant tonight, sir. Which would you prefer?”

Dean opened his mouth, but couldn’t get any word out. What was he supposed to do here? He wouldn’t get two singles, because Cas hadn’t said anything that told Dean he didn’t want to share a room, but Dean still wasn’t sure if he was expected to get a twin room or a double.

But they _had_ been sharing a bed back in the cabin, as well as kissing and everything, although there seemed to be some sort of invisible barrier between them when anything else was concerned. They just hadn’t done anything sexual because Dean had been stepping on the brakes a little with this, and Cas didn’t seem to disagree with that, so maybe Cas didn’t want to go any faster right now.  Or maybe he wanted to, because really, why else would he have pulled the whole 'naked parade' back in the cabin? Either way, Dean was pretty sure Cas wouldn’t complain about sharing a bed with him. It wasn’t like they would _have_ to do something just because Dean got them a double room, anyway, so it didn't really need to mean anything, right? It was just—

“Sir?”

Dean blinked in surprise, snapping out of his thoughts, only to find Austin staring at him with expectant eyes, a small frown on his brows. Right, Dean had been asked a question, which he still hadn’t answered.

“A double,” he managed to say, feeling a wave of nervousness washing over his entire being as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He just hoped Cas didn’t read into this wrongly. But what if he did? What if…?

“Okay,” Austin wrote something down onto the notebook in a careful handwriting, quickly going over the motions of booking the room and asking Dean about the payment after saying the price of one night. Dean ended up asking to book the room for three nights (he wasn’t sure how long the case would take) and gave him one of his current credit cards. As he waited for his room key, he just couldn’t help but anxiously drum his fingers on the wooden surface of the counter until the guy was done, and a few seconds later he realized he was humming Metallica; For Whom the Bell Tolls, to be more exact.

Yeah, he really needed to calm down.

So of course, a minute later when Dean was walking out of the office with a key to room #17 in his hand, he felt even more nervous than before.

Cas had been waiting for him for a while at least, leaning against the Impala with the duffel they were sharing (it was actually Dean’s duffel, honestly, because the clothes Cas had been wearing yesterday were Dean’s, and he didn't really have anything of his own, save from the usual suit and trench coat, plus the new tie) hanging from his right shoulder, a contemplative look in his face as he watched the eventual car driving by on the dark road before the motel. He was frowning, as if thinking about all the wonders of the world just by staring at the street, his gaze distant and clearly unfocused.

Dean had no idea what he could be thinking about, though, and once again he wondered if he would ever get to hear what the angel was thinking through the bond. He felt nothing coming from Cas right now, only the presence of the bond itself, the constant thrumming that seemed to flow through his entire being during every second of every day because of it.

The angel turned his head to look at Dean a few steps before the human reached him, giving the hunter the same look he had been giving the road, as if he was considering the human’s entire existence with only one look.

“You seem… nervous, Dean. I can feel it through the bond. Is something wrong?”

 _Of course_ Cas could feel everything coming from him, while Dean couldn’t tell a thing coming from the angel. Dean really had to learn how to control the bond. He honestly couldn’t tell whenever he was projecting or not.

“It’s nothing, Cas,” Dean hurried to shook his head, “You want to go grab dinner somewhere?” And yeah, maybe he was just trying to get the focus off himself with that question, but in his defense, Dean really was hungry, and Cas also needed to eat now.

“That would be good,” the angel replied calmly, though his eyes were still careful, like he knew Dean was keeping something from him and was trying to figure out what that was just by looking at the human. Dean wondered if he was probing at the bond, and he hated that he had no idea how to know if Cas was doing that. He felt self-conscious, like he was projecting every single one of his thoughts and had no idea how to stop it, or how to even know if he was.

Cas didn’t ask any more questions, much to Dean’s relief, but the hunter could still feel Cas’ inquiring gaze on his back as they walked the small distance to room #17.

After unlocking the room door, Dean walked inside first, hesitating beside the door until Cas was inside to turn on the lights so they could see the inside of the room. When the lights were on, the one bed in the room became visible, and Dean cast a nervous look over at Cas, trying to guess what the angel was thinking.

Cas’ face didn’t change. He didn’t seem surprised, or angry, or even confused. He just walked over to the bed and dumped the duffel bag on it, on the left side of the mattress, which was the side he had chosen to sleep in back in the cabin.

Dean felt the tension melting away from his muscles at the sight. Okay, Cas didn’t seem to have a problem with sharing a bed when they had the option not to. Good. That had to mean something, right?

Dean cleared his throat before speaking, just to make sure that his voice would come out right. “Wanna go eat now? The diner I got the coffee at this morning that looked pretty good.”

Cas nodded at that, an almost eager look in his eyes. He was probably hungry, which sounded all sorts of wrong in Dean’s head because healthy angels didn’t need to eat. That feeling of worry and uneasiness that seemed to have taken permanent residence in Dean’s gut made itself known once more, just as it did every single time Cas did something he wouldn’t if he were at full power.

Still, Dean pushed that thought aside for now, instead deciding to do something he _could_ do right now, which was feeding Cas when he needed food. That he could do.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

***~*~*~*~***

“I’m still not happy with this,” Sam muttered for the fifth time since they’d stopped the car in a small side road motel, swinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder and shutting the trunk of Charlie’s small yellow coupe closed. They were in some small town a few hours away from Pendleton, and night had fallen just a few hours ago. Sam had been intent on continuing the trip until they finally got to their actual destination, no stops, but Charlie seemed to have other ideas, and she had been adamant about stopping the car to rest for the night, no matter how much Sam had protested against the idea.

“Yeah, I got it the first _three_ times you said that,” Charlie rolled her eyes at Sam, giving the Winchester an annoyed look as she closed her door loudly. “You’re exhausted, Sam, you’ve barely slept these past few days, so you’re in no condition to drive. And I’m tired too, so let’s sleep here tonight so we can work the case tomorrow, alright?”

And without waiting for a reply, Charlie turned on her heels and walked away, headed for the office of the motel with the clear intention to book a room for the night.

Sam had no choice but to follow her.

When they got to the front desk, they asked the pretty brunette behind the counter for a twin room. After they paid, the girl—Phoebe, her nametag said—smiled at the pair as she handed Sam the key to their room.

“Here is your key. Enjoy your stay.” Her smile brightened a little more as she fixed her gaze on Sam, “Please, let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Her tone was laced with meaning, but Sam kept his face neutral as he nodded at her, smiling as politely as he could. It was fairly easy by now, since he was pretty much used to doing this by now, with how many times he had been hit on over the years. It had become some weird reflex somehow. “Thank you.”

And with that, he turned around, walking over to the door that led outside so they could go to their rented room. Room number #9, the small, coloful keychain provided.

“Dude,” Charlie began once they were out in the small parking lot, “She was totally flirting with you!”

“Yeah, I noticed," Sam was quick to dismiss the topic, "I was there.”

“And you didn’t even flirt back,” Charlie pointed out, her tone light and clealy joking, although Sam was pretty sure he could hear a hint of curiosity in her voice, “She looked pretty disappointed, you know. And she was pretty cute.”

Sam let out a breath as they reached their bedroom, unlocking the door without a word. He had already had this very discussion with Dean a few times over the years, but the subject had worn out as time passed, so much that his older brother never commented on it anymore, probably because he seemed to have finally learned he wouldn’t get a different response from Sam by the thousandth time. “It’s kind of… complicated.”

He didn’t look at Charlie as he walked into the room and turned on a light, walking over to the bed by the bedroom door and dropping his bag onto it, hoping Charlie would agree with the bed choice. Still, he could feel the girl’s eyes boring into his back as he rummaged through his clothes, looking for a change so he could take a shower and go to sleep. The earlier he went to bed, the earlier he would be up tomorrow and the faster they could be back on the road again.

“Alright, I’m… sorry for saying anything.”

Sam paused, closing his eyes for a moment and exhaling slowly. A pang of guilt hit him at the low tone of Charlie’s voice, and he suddenly felt bad. Charlie hadn't meant to hit a nerve, and she had obviously not had bad intentions behind her comment. This was just a very sore subject for Sam, it had always been, but lately it just seemed like it was even worse than it had ever been, and he couldn’t quite explain why.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as he turned around, catching sight of the redhead watching him by the now closed door with hesitant, careful eyes, which definitely didn’t make him feel any better. “It’s just… this is kind of a difficult subject for me, that’s all.”

“Because of Jess?” Charlie’s voice was tentative, a clear edge to it, like she was afraid of what Sam’s reaction to her words might be, which must have made her feel the need to step on eggs around him all of a sudden.

Sam shook his head in a negative response. Nine years ago, during the months that had followed the night Dean had showed up at Stanford and told him their father was missing, the answer would have been different. But things had changed a lot since then, and he wasn’t the same person he had been back then.  _Everything_ had changed, honestly.

Letting out a heavy breath, Sam felt his knees all but give out under him as he sat down onto the edge of the bed heavily. Suddenly he felt worn, but not just physically; the weight from this particular subject was once again weighing down on his shoulders, like it seemed to have been doing for a few years now.

“When Jess died, I was… lost. It just happened so fast. I mean, for four years I was studying and working on my future, and I was just _so_ happy that I had finally walked away from hunting, I just never thought I’d ever go back to it.” He could still remember it: the feeling of pure _relief_ he'd felt the night he'd walked away after his big fight with John, the sense of  _freedom_ rushing through his veins. It had been everything he'd ever dreamed of up until then, and he didn't think he'd ever felt happier, with the life he'd started building for himself at Stanford. If only he'd known it wouldn't last. “But then Dean turned up one night and it all went to hell, literally. And Jess… I just couldn’t believe she was gone.”

Sam remembered the pain clearly, even after so long. The hole in his chest, the disorientation, the guilt from not doing anything when he had first gotten those visions, the doubt of what would have happened if he hadn’t gone on that hunt with Dean, the fact that he’d _watched_ Jess burn on the ceiling and hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it, just like his father had when he’d watched his mother die all those years before… Everything threatened to swallow his sanity back then, slowly driving him insane and making him thirst for vengeance. Sam assumed that had been how John had felt when he’d lost Mary, and that had actually made him understand his father’s actions a little bit more. Of course, he didn't agree with the way John had dealt with his grief, but at least he knew what if felt like.

“Sam,” Charlie’s tone was still hesitant, but it had shifted into something stronger, more urgent somehow. She was shaking her head, the gesture at the same time jerky and weak, like she wasn’t sure what to do, “You don’t need to talk about this if you don’t want to. I just…”

“It’s okay. I…” Sam swallowed, already feeling the words heavy on his tongue, but he kept talking, “You’re family, Charlie, you should know this. Also…” He shook his head lightly, “I haven’t talked about this, ever, with anyone.” And maybe he needed to, after all this time.

Charlie eyed him for a moment, like considering if she agreed with Sam or not. Finally, she nodded slowly, but did not say a word. The message in her eyes was clear, though—she wanted to hear what he had to say, but only if he wanted to talk. If he didn't, she wouldn't push him.

“The first year was the hardest,” Sam continued, “I just couldn’t even picture myself even looking at another woman after Jess died, I didn’t for months. But as the time passed… I guess I started to consider it, you know, moving on.”

Sam remembered even feeling guilty for even looking at another woman for months, although he knew he probably shouldn’t. But it hadn’t felt right, because none of them was _Jess_ , and back then it felt like he was offending her memory somehow if he even considered getting involved with any other woman before he found the bastard who had killed her and his mother. He felt like he owed that to her, somehow.

He had been torn about going out with Sarah Blake, and even more so about kissing her when he and Dean had been done with the case, since Jess’ death had been quite recent when it happened. He had felt weird about it afterwards, of course, but that had been his first step on moving on from Jessica. He’d decided to finally give it a shot, and in the end, he didn’t regret it, he was almost glad he had done it. He was pretty sure it helped him a lot in the end. He needed to start healing somehow.

Still, it was only after Jess had been gone for over a year that Sam had allowed himself to actually be with another woman. The first one to make him feel comfortable enough had been Madison. But that had gone terribly, and so Sam had gone into yet another phase of no sexual interactions whatsoever. Dean would often bug him about it, tell him he needed to go out and have fun, and that it would be good for him, that it wasn’t healthy for him not just not have sex at all anymore, but Sam would always tell him that he didn’t feel right about it, and that Dean really shouldn't insist on it because he was his brother and it was just weird to talk about that with him. After a few more months, Dean had finally stopped asking.

And then came Ruby, which had been a completely fucked up situation. Sam knew she had manipulated him and gotten him addicted to demon blood, which had been the only reason why he had slept with her in the first place, but he still felt like some of the blame should be laid on him for that one. He hadn’t been strong enough to put an end to it, even when everything around him tried to tell him he was going down a dark and dangerous path.

The time he had been soulless didn’t count, or at least he liked to believe it didn’t. He had slept around with a lot more women than he could remember, and he was thankful for the fact that the memories from that time were still pretty fuzzy in his head. Most of them had been taken away when Cas had transferred his insanity to himself.

Obviously, he had gone on yet another dry spell after that.

And then came Amelia.

Meeting Amelia had been some sort of an eye opener for Sam. For years, Sam hadn’t even thought about having someone again, not with the life he had. He just never bothered to give it much thought after all his attempts at it had gone terribly wrong, because he had been sure it would never happen, not with the life he was living, not after everything he’d gone through over the years.

Amelia had been a beam of light through the darkness that his life had become after they’d defeated Dick Roman. Dean and Cas had been gone, Bobby was dead and Crowley had taken off with Kevin and Meg, which had left Sam with literally nothing. He’d had no one, nothing, for weeks. He had been lost again, with no hope of finding his brother ever again, because he’d had no idea where to even start looking. He’d had no idea if Dean was even alive.

And then he’d hit a dog, and that had led him to meeting Amelia.

It had taken him weeks, and honestly, he and Amelia hadn't exactly gotten off to the best start, but that had started to change eventually, and Sam had been very hesitant about it in the beginning. In the life he lived, getting attached only meant that he was putting people in harm’s way, and that was definitely not something he’d wanted for her. He didn’t want that for anybody, so he knew he should keep his distance, that having something with her would only cause her to end up hurt in the end somehow, because that was just how it usually happened for him.

He’d broken in the end, though.

Maybe it was curiosity to see if something could really work out that had driven Sam to actually give in to the fact that he actually liked Amelia. He’d quit hunting for months at the time, and he was starting to actually get used to a life outside of that world. So he’d decided to give it a shot. He knew he didn’t love her by then, but he liked her, and he wanted to have something with her, was that too bad? Dean was gone and he had nothing, so what had he been supposed to do, anyway?

It had been then that Sam realized something he hadn’t thought too much about in a long time.

He wanted to have someone, to have something like that. He wanted it badly.

But he couldn’t have it, and maybe he’d known that since the very beginning, even if only deep, deep down in his subconscious.

And that became obvious once Don was back and alive, and shortly after so was Dean. Sam wasn’t supposed to have someone, even if he wanted to. It just wouldn’t happen, and he had to get used to the idea. Because you just don’t get out of the life, and he should have learned that by now.

Sometimes he still longed for the time when he had been with Jess at Stanford. He missed her, much more than he thought he would after so long. He wouldn’t change the past if he could, he wouldn’t change the trail he and Dean had walked over the past ten years, but he also couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if he had saved Jess that night, if only he had gotten back to Stanford a little earlier.

“And I did move on eventually, I guess. I still miss Jess, more than I can put into words, but…” Sam shrugged weakly, forcing the words out even though it seemed like they didn’t want to be let out, “I tried, you know? And maybe if I had been in a better place at the time, I might have tried something with Sarah. Or if everything hadn’t gone terribly wrong for Madison. Or with Amelia. But… you know what I learned?”

Charlie didn’t respond, as if afraid to talk. She shook her head lightly, however, a clear question in her eyes, and that was enough for Sam to continue.

“No matter how much I try, I just can’t get out of the life. I’ve tried, more than once, but it never works out. And I can’t have someone if I’m going to keep hunting, because that would only be putting people in danger. And I can’t do that, so…”

“So you think you’ll never… stop?” Charlie’s voice was tentative, curious, though still hesitant. Sam knew there was something else behind her words, that she was probably channeling those into her own situation right now, considering that technically she was also a hunter now, and that realization made Sam’s heart clench in his chest. He knew it was his and Dean’s fault that Charlie had been pulled into this life in the first place, so they were the ones to blame for whatever happened to her in the long run.

Still, Charlie shouldn’t take his words into her own life. Sure, she was a hunter now too, but it was different for her. She hadn’t been raised into the life like Sam and his brother had, and there was her difference, her shot at getting out, of walking away.

“I’m not saying no one can get out of the life, Charlie,” Sam hurried to say, shaking his head lightly at the redhead, hoping she would believe him, “It’s just… it’s hard, for anyone, but for me and Dean? We weren’t just raised into it, we were _born_ into it. Our parents were literally matched by a cupid so we would be born and be the vessels for the Apocalypse. There’s no getting out for me and Dean, ever.”

The words were heavy in his tongue, sour, but they were the truth, and Sam would stand by them for the rest of his life. He and Dean would go down fighting, Sam had known that for quite a while, he was as sure of that as he was sure that the sun would rise in the sky the next day. That was just how things were supposed to be.

"And honestly, I don't really want to get out of it, not really. I mean, there was a time I thought differently, that the only way I got through a job was if I kept repeating in my head, 'just one more hunt, just one more', but now..." Another shrug, another shake of his head, "This is my life, and you know? I love it. I love... saving people, doing something for them. But with that, relationships just get... complicated."

Charlie didn’t respond. She was actually quiet for so long that Sam grew sure the conversation was over, so he stood up from the bed to start going through his duffel once more, deciding to leave the girl to her thoughts. He felt worn because of the emotional load he had just spilled, so he quickly envisioned a hot shower in his future, hoping it would help ease the tension in his muscles.

Hearing Charlie’s voice coming from behind him again was definitely a surprise.

“What if you do find someone, though? Someone, you know… in the life too? A hunter?”

Sam paused, his hand hovering over the clothes inside his bag, his back turned at the girl. It actually took a few seconds for him to actually process the question, and a few more for him to decide what to say in response.

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, “I never thought too much about it, to be honest. But... yeah, I think that might work, though it’s a pretty long shot.”

“And…” There was a new edge to Charlie’s voice, the hesitation for some reason back with full force into her words, “What about Dean? I mean, do you think he’ll never find anyone either?”

That actually made Sam pause. He swallowed, finally spinning his body around so he could meet Charlie’s inquiring gaze.

Sam shook his head. “Dean is kind of… hard to read, I guess. I mean, he has a problem with relationships, he’s always had, ever since he was a teen. I don’t think he ever had a single steady girlfriend until Lisa. He did really love Cassie, true, but… well, it’s not like he could stick around and stay with her. I don’t think he would ever want that.”

“But he did stay with Lisa, didn’t he? I mean, after…”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, he stayed with Lisa and Ben for a year, until I showed up soulless and got him back into hunting.” Sam still blamed himself for that, but he couldn’t change anything he had done while walking around without a soul, as much as he wanted to. "And to make things worse, Crowley went after them later on and Dean had Cas erase their memories of him to get them out of harm’s way."

Charlie’s eyes widened in shock at that. “I didn’t know about that.”

Sam shrugged weakly. “It hit him pretty hard, honestly. After that, I don’t think Dean even thought about having a relationship with anyone again. Afterwards he told me that life wasn’t for him, the whole white picket fence thing, and honestly, I believe him. I just can't see Dean getting out of the life. And sure, before that there was Jo, too, and maybe that could have worked out, I mean, she was a hunter, but… I don’t know, things just never seem to go well for the two of us in that department,” or in any department whatsoever.

“But what if…” Charlie looked down at her hands as she fiddled with the hem of her jacket, a gesture that looked so nervous in her it had Sam frowning in confusion, “What if Dean found someone? What would you do?”

Briefly, Sam wondered where exactly she was expecting this conversation to go, and he found himself wondering if she had any other reason behind all these questions other than pure curiosity. He wasn’t sure. “I would be happy for him,” he answered honestly, even if he was still confused as to where that question had come from, “I mean, Dean never had anything close to what I had with Jess, except for maybe what he had with Lisa, but he doesn't talk about it, so I don't know for sure. I think he deserves it, to be honest, after everything.”

“But?”

Sam shrugged lightly, weakly, “But I don’t really see it happening. Not for him, or for me. And while Dean still does a few one nights stands once in a while, I just… I find it easier not to.”

Charlie opened her mouth, but closed it a second later, like she changed her mind about what she would say. There was a visible shift in her eyes, one Sam didn’t quite understand. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry for saying anything, Sam… I should have guessed. I mean, I didn’t…”

“Don’t, Charlie,” Sam smiled softly at her to show her he was in no way angry at her. He actually felt a little better himself after the conversation, having gotten so much weight off his chest that he had been carrying around for years. It made him wonder if he shouldn’t have talked about this with anyone sooner, though it wasn’t like he had that many people to talk to except for Dean, who was basically the definition of emotional constipation. Dean would shut down any time Sam even tried to bring a subject like this up, so Sam had pretty much given up on trying over the years. “It’s fine, really. Even I feel better now.”

Charlie smiled at him, albeit weakly, like she wasn’t sure if she should believe him or not.

To lighten the mood, Sam smiled lightly at her, allowing a hint of playfulness into his words as he said,  “Well, I’m not going to take Phoebe up on that offer, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Charlie chuckled. “Seriously?”

Sam smiled a little wider. “Well, you did say she was cute. Why don’t you go for it?”

Charlie shook his head at him, still chuckling. Sam was glad to see her eyes twinkling a little, the tension and weariness from earlier quickly fading away. “Doesn’t work that way for me. It’s a little more complicated than that, you know?”

“Well, you didn’t even try…”

“I just have a pretty nice gaydar, Sam.”

Sam chuckled at that, raising his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, forget I said anything.” He chuckled again, picking up the clean change of clothes he’d found rummaging through his bag earlier. “Well, I’m going to take a shower now.”

He was about two steps away from the bathroom door when he heard Charlie speaking again, her voice back to that tentative tone from before, which was an unexpected change.

“Hey, Sam?”

Sam turned around to face her again, and he was taken aback by the so clearly nervous expression on her face. He couldn’t understand the change at all. “Yeah?”

“We never talked about this before, but…” She swallowed, as if unable to let the words out for some reason, which only made Sam even more confused than before, a frown instantly taking over his eyebrows. “Are you okay with this? I mean, with me being, you know…”

Sam’s mind suddenly came to a halt, because was Charlie really asking him this? “Gay?” he asked, just to make sure they were talking about the same thing here. He was so surprised and confused by the question he just had to make sure. Was she really afraid he wasn’t okay with it? Had he ever given her any reason to think that?

Charlie nodded almost shyly, which only made Sam even more confused.

“Of course I’m okay with it, Charlie,” Sam said, shaking his head lightly, letting his surprise slip into his voice freely, “I thought you already knew that.”

Charlie shrugged feebly, “I just, I never asked you guys, and I mean, you just never know these days…”

“Charlie, really, I’m completely okay with it.” He really was. He had no problems with people being gay or bi or pan or anything else at all. He had been sure Charlie had understood that by now, even if they hadn’t in fact exchanged words on the topic. Apparently, however, that hadn’t been clear enough for her. “And I’m pretty sure Dean is too.” Or at least his brother had never given him any reason to think otherwise.

Charlie smiled at him, such a genuine sight it easily caused a smile to spread across Sam’s lips as well. There was this sudden spark in Charlie’s eyes that Sam could only understand as relief. He couldn’t understand how Charlie could have possibly thought he wasn’t okay with her being a lesbian, although he kind of knew where she might be coming from. Even today, the 21st century, there were still plently of narrow-minded people out there, and sometimes you just never knew what someone was really thinking. Still, the single thought of Charlie being afraid he might be one of those people was almost absurd in Sam’s mind, and he was happy to see her worries eased. At least now she would have no doubts about it.

“Well,” Charlie was still smiling as she stood up, “I’m starving, so I’ll go get us both something to eat. There was that little pizza place we drove by on our way here. What do you say?”

Sam smiled back at her, nodding. “Sounds good.”

She grabbed the car keys on the counter by the door, still smiling as she announced, “I’ll be back.”

And with that, she was gone.

Sam just stood there in the middle of the room for a moment, staring at the door as he tried to process what had just happened. That conversation had taken an oddly, heavy turn, and he honestly hadn’t expected it at all. He had no idea what had brought it on, but whatever it had been, at least Charlie's worries seemed to have been eased.

With a sigh, Sam decided not to dwell too much on it for now. Charlie would tell him whatever it was that might be bothering her if she wanted to, and if she didn’t, well, Sam didn’t really feel like it was his place to pry. If she wanted to talk, though, he would be more than happy to listen.

Also, she had raised a pretty interesting point.

He'd changed his mind about wanting out of the life for a while now, especially after Amelia. Still, even though his brother had never been at all eager to do the same, Sam wondered if Dean had never wished for, well... more, for something different, maybe with a hunter.

Or maybe not with a hunter, too. He remembered all of those years ago, when Sam had been sure he would turn into some sort of homocidal zombie-monster thing because of the Croatoan virus all those years back, how willing Dean had been to die with him, and his brother's words from back then still rang in Sam’s ears, even after all this time.

_"I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job, this life. This weight on my shoulders, man, I'm tired of it.”_

Of course, the circumstances had been completely different back then. He knew Dean had been worried about what their father had told him before he died, about how Dean had to either save his brother or kill him, but... Sam wondered if maybe there had been more to it, if Dean had never wanted out of hunting at any point. Sure, Dean would never admit to it, but for years Dean had done nothing but obey their father without questions, and Sam couldn't help but wonder if Dean was up until today still following the script from back then, John's voice still echoing inside his head somehow, even after all these years.

And he knew exactly what Dean would say, because he had already heard it more than once: that all of the lives they didn’t save if they walked out of the life, all the people that died, all those deaths would be on their shoulders, that their blood would be on their hands. That this was their job, and if they didn't do it, then who would?

Honestly, Sam agreed with him, mostly. This  _was_ their job, their life, and right now, he didn't want to stop doing it. But he did miss the simpler times, when _all_ they had to worry about was hunting, not the end of the world and Heaven and Hell and the Mark of Cain. He missed the time when all they really had to worry about was the next hunt, what the next monster would be. 

And maybe it was selfish of him to think that, but allowed his mind to wander a little, imagining if maybe, just maybe, after this whole deal with the Mark of Cain and Cas’ Grace, maybe they might go back to that simple routine, now that Heaven and Hell seemed to be relatively quiet. And maybe one of them would find someone down the road, somehow, maybe even both of them. They had more than earned it at this point, honestly.

It seemed unlikely, but Sam could hope, couldn’t he?

He liked to think he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, *definitely* not a witch, huh? A familiar energy somehow? Hmmmm... ;)
> 
> Also, we are getting pretty close to the scene I know you've all been waiting for... ;D


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter. I'm really happy with how it turned out. ;)
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains some very dark thoughts and mentions of considered suicide by a main character.

Dean drove to the diner he had been to that morning, parking close to the same spot he had taken that earlier that same day when he had gone to the bar. The small diner had looked like a pretty nice place earlier today when he’d gone inside to get some coffee, and it was pretty full right now, so the food must be good here. At least Dean hoped it was. Their coffee was pretty good, anyway, and he would have definitely drunk the whole thing if it hadn’t gone cold.

It was pretty nice on the inside, but nothing too different from all the hundreds of diners Dean had frequented throughout his life, nothing that really stood out—the small tables along the middle, the bigger blue booths alonside the windows, the lamps hanging low from the white ceiling, a counter with matching blue stools spread over its entire length where people could sit and enjoy their meals on the countertop, a door that led to the kitchen behind the counter; there's wasn't much to the place, but it was still cozy and welcoming somehow.

Once he and Cas were seated in a booth by the corner (away from all the other customers, enough so that they could talk freely and without the risk of being overheard if they kept their voices low enough), a cheery blonde waitress made her way over to the table, handing each one of them a menu and taking their drink orders, which basically consisted of a bottle of water to each one of them. If Sam were here, he would probably try to convince Dean to order a vitamin or some juice or something else he considered healthy, but with Cas, Dean could stick to less… gross things, and not the damn liquid fruit Sam had been forcing him to drink every now and then.

The word avocado still gave Dean chills.

When the girl was gone, leaving the pair alone to decide on their meal, Dean looked down at the menu before him, frowning as he read the names. His first instinct was to go straight for the burgers and ask for the biggest one with no salad, a whole lot of bacon and the biggest portion of side fries they had, but he refrained. He had promised himself that he would try to eat at least a little healthy for the time being because of the Mark, and that was what he would do, that being the reaon why he had asked for freaking water.

“What are you getting?” Dean asked, lowering his menu back onto the table to glance at Cas, who was frowning at his own menu like it had personally offended him. Dean held back a chuckle at the sight, instead only allowing a small smile to form on his lips.

“I’m uncertain,” the angel announced, not taking his eyes off the menu for even a second, concentrating on choosing his food like lives depended on it, “The double bacon cheeseburger sounds very appealing, although I am not sure that is a good idea.”

To Dean, that sounded like a good idea; an _extremely_ good idea with a whole lot of bacon. Sweet, sweet bacon. Too bad Dean couldn’t have it. He couldn’t see why Cas couldn’t, though. “Why not?”

This time Cas looked up at Dean to respond, but the frown wasn’t gone. “I have realized that the quality of what I eat has a certain effect on the state of my body, and that effects the speed with which my Grace fades.”

Dean’s eyebrow rose in surprise, although it did make sense. An angel’s Grace would always make sure the body they were possessing was alright, unlike demons, keeping the vessel still good for use until the angel was gone; they had learned that over the years. And if Cas didn’t eat healthy, his Grace would have to fix whatever damage was made to his vessel from greasy, unhealthy bacon cheeseburgers.

“Well, it seems we’re both going on a diet, then.”

Cas frowned in confusion at those words, a question suddenly clear in his eyes.

“Sam thinks that if I eat healthy, maybe the Mark won’t affect me as much. That’s why I haven’t been drinking, either,” Dean explained, shrugging weakly and probably sounding a little annoyed, because honestly, he was. This diet thing was already chewing on his nerves. “So, no bacon cheeseburgers for me either.”

“Oh,” Cas nodded lightly at that, seeming to consider the words for a moment, “It does make sense. The Mark could take advantage of any weakness in your body, and that could include anything created from your unhealthy eating habits.”

Dean decided not to comment on the part about ‘his unhealthy eating habits’, even though the words instantly reached the tip of his tongue, ready to just jump out of his mouth. His diet wasn’t… _that_ unhealthy. And he had made it this far, hadn’t he? He swallowed the words quickly, looking back down at the menu and scanning the words once more. “What do you say we both get the grilled steak with white rice, some spaghetti with garlic butter sauce and the side salad, then? That sounds kind of healthy, right?”

“Partially, yes,” Cas agreed, nodding once, “Not entirely, but enough, I suppose.”

That was good enough for Dean.

The waitress came back soon enough, and was off with their orders a moment later, her pony tail swinging from one side to the other as she skipped away from their table.

Dean looked out the window then, glancing over at where the Impala was parked, before looking even farther away across the darkened parking lot, over at the bar he had visited in the morning. That guy he had seen hadn’t been human, he knew that wihout a doubt, but he still couldn’t see how that man could be connected to the whole stuffed cat mystery. Could he be their guy? Maybe the Margaret woman had heard something, or seen something weird that would help them with this case. What was that guy, anyway? He had to be something strong to make all the people in that bar forget about him and create a living animal from a little kid’s toy. But what could have that juice other than a witch?

“Dean,” the sound of Cas’ voice made Dean snap his attention back to the present, turning his head so he could meet the angel’s inquiring blue eyes, “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem… worried.”

“Just thinking about the case.” It wasn’t a lie this time.

“We cannot do anything until tomorrow,” Cas reasoned, his eyes softening, “For now, we should wait and try to rest. We both need it.”

Dean knew Cas was right and that the angel meant well, but it wasn’t like Dean could just turn his thoughts off. Still, he nodded lightly. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed, letting out a heavy breath through his parted lips and leaning back against his seat.

Cas was still eyeing him, though, those blue eyes concentrated on whatever it was he seemed to be looking for on Dean’s face. “Are you sure that is all in your mind?”

Because of course Cas had to ask. _Of course_ the angel wouldn’t forget about what had happened back at the motel; of course he would know there was something else in his mind.

Dean had gotten pretty worked up over nothing, he knew that, but he'd had his reasons to. He wanted to cross a line with Cas he couldn’t make himself cross again, and he wasn’t sure why trying anything terrified him so much. He had crossed that same line once before and it had ended pretty badly, so maybe it was the memory of waking up alone to a cold empty bed, looming around in his head and making itself known every time he as much as considered addressing this with Cas, that still made him feel like he should hold everything back. He had come to the conclusion they had rushed too much into things when they’d slept together right away with close to no talking at all involved, and now he was being paranoid of doing it again. Every time he touched or kissed Cas, he was caught wondering if maybe they weren’t making the same mistake of going too fast again.

And Dean knew that Cas had had his reasons to leave. Cas had assured him the soul bond had been the only reason, and that he regretted leaving now, but part of him still feared that wasn’t all, still worried that maybe Cas hadn’t been ready for as much as they’d done back in Omaha, because he hadn’t attempted anything of that sort again, at least not until this morning, and Dean still had no freaking idea how he was supposed to read that. Cas hadn’t initiated any sort of sexual contact between them since Dean found him in that cabin, and then suddenly he was walking around naked and kissing him and then later on acting like nothing at all had happened, hadn’t brought it up at all, and Dean was just _so freaking confused._

Sure, they had kissed and cuddled before the whole incident that morning, but that had been all. Everything had stayed strictly PG-13 since Omaha, and it was driving Dean insane, because he _wanted_ more, but he wasn’t sure if Cas did too, because Cas hadn’t given him any signs that he did want more so far. Well, Cas  _had_ paraded around naked that morning, but then he had put a stop to it and completely ignored the whole thing later on, acting all distant and lost in thought and basically not saying a single freaking word throughout their entire ride to town, so what did that even _mean_?

And he knew the fear of going through what happened in Omaha all over again—waking up to find Cas had left some time while Dean had been unconscious and having no idea where the angel even went or why he had taken off in the first place—might also be playing a part in all of this, even if just subconsciously, but it wasn’t like he could just stop that.

“There’s always something on my mind, Cas,” Dean shook his head lightly, quickly dismissing the topic. He couldn’t talk about this with Cas right now, not here, in the middle of a freaking diner filled with people. But he could still answer the question without lying or making something up. “Whether it’s a case, or the Mark, or your fading Grace,” He sucked in a breath to steady himself, because he really didn’t need a reminder of everything, but he forced the words out anyway, “It’s like there’s always something trying to just rip my life apart. And I mean, it's been like that since I was freaking four, really, but...” He shrugged weakly, already feeling the weight of that particular subject wearing him down, an unusual weight settling onto his chest, an unnatural tiredness seeping through his bones. "I'm just tired, I guess. I don't know."

Because he didn't, really. It was just lately he'd been feeling the fight seeping out of him, his resolve fading ever so slightly every single day as the Mark grew stronger, and he hated feeling that way, but that was the truth.

Cas’ eyes softened even more as the angel tilted his head just barely to the side. He gave Dean an almost sympathetic look, but Dean knew that wasn’t quite what Cas wanted to pass on right now. There was a hint of sadness in the angel’s eyes, a bitterness that told Dean he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I wish I could tell you there will be a time when you won’t have to worry about who will be dying next, about saving the world and the people you care about, but I cannot do that.” Cas’ voice was strained, loaded with so much emotion as he spoke, letting his sadness flood through his words without trying to put a stop to it in a way that had Dean startled, mainly because he wasn't used to displays like this from the angel, although they had been growing rather common these days. “It saddens me to admit that, and I truly wish I could say differently, but I doubt there will ever be a stop to evil in this world, and you wouldn’t be the Dean Winchester I know if you ever backed down from that fight.”

Dean swallowed thickly, because he knew those words were true, he had always known, but there was just something about hearing Cas say them that struck a chord in Dean and made him really think it through, suddenly feeling the weight of their meaning truly sink in. Cas was right, there would always be something out there, just waiting for the right moment to strike, and Dean would be there if he could. As long as he was alive, he would be fighting, and he would go down swinging, he had always known that, and he honestly couldn't see it happening any differently.

It was a sad notion somehow, but it was the truth, as hard as it might be to face it, as harsh and heavy as those words might be. Although, in that moment, Dean realized he didn’t want it to be true, not like this, not anymore.

This whole thing with the Mark had really been wearing him down lately, as was this search for a cure that clearly did not exist, or at least he had been almost convinced of that a few weeks ago. He had been losing hope for a while, and sometimes he just felt so fucking tired of everything, he just wanted it over, just wanted to freaking _die_ and be done with everything, because sometimes he just felt like he couldn't handle one more day of this whole thing.

Now, though, this wasn’t those times, as surprisingly as that may be. Dean wasn’t sure what it was, but the depression he had been feeling a few weeks ago seemed to have dimmed a little. He had truly wished to die at one point, he truly had, and if he was honest, he had sometimes considered doing it himself, just stabbing himself with the damn Blade and be done with it, if the Mark would even let him do it, even let him die for good. But now he didn’t quite feel it, didn't even think of it as a possibility. He just wanted to get through this situation, with Cas’ Grace and the Mark of Cain, but death didn’t seem like the only way out in his head anymore right now, maybe because it wasn't an option anymore, not with him and Cas bonded like this. He wasn’t sure if that was all that had caused the change, but he was actually glad for it.

Maybe it really was the bond. It was numbing the Mark and clearing his thoughts, so much it made Dean realize that there might be a way out of this. If angel Grace could block the effects of the Mark, then there might actually be cure for it, they just had to look harder for it.

At least Dean hoped there was, with everything he had.

Their food came soon enough, and silence took over. Cas apparently hadn’t been expecting a response from Dean, anyway, so he just chose to not give one. Cas knew he knew those words were true, and that was enough.

The mood lightened up considerably a while after when Cas commented on the food, saying that the food was good, but that it had nothing on the bacon cheeseburger, and Dean obviously agreed with him. Dean also thought some cream cheese would go well with his steak, but he didn’t think they had any, so he didn’t ask for it. Cas frowned in confusion when Dean mentioned it, and Dean didn’t understand why, but filed it away under the thought that Cas had probably never had cream cheese before, because honestly, steak with cream cheese? How could that not sound like a marvelous idea?

They were talking normally again in just a few minutes, and although some heaviness still lingered in the air from their conversation earlier, it was nothing compared to before.

They were done eating shortly after and decided to both pass on dessert, until the waitress told them they had a freshly baked apple pie, so of course they were having dessert, because _pie._ Cas ended up ordering a slice as well, but he didn’t eat it as happily and enthusiastically as Dean. Dean caught Cas smiling at him from the corner of his eye, but he chose not to comment on it, instead focusing his attention completely on the heavenly treat resting before him on the table.

Still, it wasn’t long until Dean paid for their meal and they stood up from their booth, walking out of the diner silently.

Once they are both seated inside the Impala, however, Dean hesitated to start the engine up and drive away. He just sat there behind the wheel, the key sitting in the ignition, but not turned.

Dean knew he had to talk to Cas about everything that had been eating away his sanity during the past few days. He knew they would never get past this issue if neither of them _voiced_ it, if they kept dancing around each other but never actually addressing the freaking elephant in the room. If they didn’t talk about, well, _them_ , things would probably stay like this for longer, and that was something Dean really didn’t want to see happen.

The problem was, however, that Dean couldn’t find the right way to address this, and suddenly he wasn’t sure even if he should right now. What if bringing it up screwed up whatever it was they had going on, whatever this was? Should he wait a little more, see if Cas said something? But what if he didn’t? What if—

“Dean?”

Dean snapped his head to the side, finding Cas’ eyes staring into his own, a worried look clear in the angel’s face, his brows furrowed in intense concern, a look that was becoming a lot more common on Cas’ features. Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Dean swallowed drily, trying to organize his thoughts enough to talk. He was pretty much terrified of this conversation, of hearing Cas tell him he didn’t want anything more despite everything he had said to Dean back in Omaha and again back in the cabin, and then pull away because Dean had questioned him about it, of losing Cas yet again. But he knew he had to do this; he had to know where they stood, because the doubts were threatening to drive him insane with every passing day.

They were in this situation right now exactly because they hadn’t _talked_.

“Cas, I…” Dean licked his dry lips, averting his eyes from the angel’s and fixing his gaze on the parking lot before them. “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” Cas replied calmly, but there was a hint of curiosity in his tone, like he was glad Dean was finally going to address whatever was floating in his mind.

Focusing his gaze on the darkened parking lot before them and not on the angel’s inquiring gaze, Dean forced the words out of his throat before he could change his mind about saying them, “I just… These last few days, I’ve wondered, well…”

He turned back to look at Cas then, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, because he had imagined it would be easier to talk without looking at the angel in the eye, without actually seeing the sadness and rejection coming his way like a freight train. But it was when Dean met Cas’ gaze with his eyes that he found his worries pouring out of his mouth; that his voice seemed to come from deep within him and allow him to form the words he had for days buried in some distant, dark corner of his mind.

“We didn’t really talk about some stuff since I got here, Cas. I mean, not just that, but in Omaha too. We didn’t talk, and we slept together, and we might have rushed into this that night, and then you left and I still don’t know if the bond was the only reason for that or not. I mean, we haven’t really done anything since then, and I know we’re kind of together, but… I mean, I don’t know…” His throat felt clogged, his voice losing strength with each word that flew from his lips. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe…

“Dean.” The tone of Cas’ voice was a surprise. It wasn’t strong or as deep as it normally was. It was just a whisper, a weak, sad, almost pained word that sounded utterly wrong on the angel’s lips that had Dean going quiet because it just sounded so plainly _wrong_. “I wish I could make you understand, make you believe me. I’m sorry for leaving, I should not have left you like that, and I will not make the same mistake again. In spite of everything, I have no regrets about what we did in Omaha, and I have every wish to repeat it. And I am willing to do everything I need to prove that to you, although I have been unsure whether you too want it to happen again. I have been trying to give you distance, because I felt like that was what you wished, and I was not sure if I had crossed a line this morning. I assumed that had been why you have been worried all day, tense and locked inside your own head. I had no idea what you truly wanted, that is the only reason why I have not addressed until now.”

The angel swallowed, lifting his hand and resting it against the hunter’s cheek, rubbing the human’s stubble with the pad of his thumb so softly the touch was barely there. But Dean felt it, and closed his eyes, instinctively leaning into Cas’ palm, basking in the tenderness of the touch, the careful attention.

“I don’t think you can grasp just how much you mean to me, Dean,” Cas was still talking, his voice just as low as before, but growing in strength as conviction took over his words, “I will never leave you again, as long as that decision depends solely on my will. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Dean’s eyes were still closed, so he could only feel it when Cas grew closer to him, feeling as the small puff of breath from the angel danced over the skin of his face and washed over his lips. He felt Cas’ mouth pressing lightly against his own in a chaste kiss.

“Cas, of course I…” Dean let out a small breath, chuckling a little, because how could Cas even ask something like that? How could he even have any doubts about this? “I guess I’m just getting myself worked up without a reason, then, huh?”

“Yes, you are. But perhaps I am too,” Cas replied, capturing Dean’s lips with his own once more, this time lingering for longer, allowing the touch to last for a few seconds before pulling away slowly.

Dean chased the feeling of it, leaning forward and pressing his own lips to Cas’ before the angel could retreat back to his seat, moving his lips just slightly against the angel’s and smiling when he felt Cas respond quite eagerly. The angel leaned forward and into Dean, tilting his head as his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking its way into the hunter’s mouth and earning an actual fucking whimper from Dean.

The hand that had been cupping Dean’s face slowly slid down, making a trail down the hunter’s neck, over his shoulder and down his torso, coming to rest on his thigh as Cas leaned even more into the kiss.

A feeling of warmness ran through Dean’s entire body, lighting up his entire being and making him feel almost light headed. Somehow, he realized it was coming from the bond, but he couldn’t understand what it meant, all he knew was that he just wanted to keep kissing Cas like this forever. His hands were gripping the angel’s sides, and he was doing everything he could not to pull him onto his lap right then and there. His pants were tightening rather quickly, his cock perking up in interest and growing hard in no time at all.

Cas ripped their lips apart without a warning, kissing a trail down Dean’s neck and sucking on the skin there, earning a moan from Dean. If Cas didn’t stop, Dean wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back.

“Cas…” This really wasn’t the appropriate place for them to do this—the front seat of the Impala, which was parked very visibly in a partially full parking lot, with buildings all around them, which were all pretty much filled with a considerate amount of people.

Cas stopped working his mouth on Dean’s neck at the sound, though he didn’t pull away. Dean could feel the angel’s labored breath against his neck, matching his own, which told him Cas might be just as turned on as he was right now.

And that was when the angel spoke. His voice was lower than normal, the way Dean remembered hearing it back in Omaha. It was only one word, but the sound went straight to Dean’s dick, yet another whimper escaping the hunter’s lips at the single sound of it; at the commanding tone that it held, as well as the meaning behind it.

“Drive.”

***~*~*~*~***

Dean had no fucking idea how he didn’t crash the car while driving back to the motel.

Cas did let him drive, sure, but he did so while sucking on the hunter’s neck and nibbling eventually at the sensitive skin there, which could be very, _very_ distracting. He wanted to kiss Cas again, his lips were actually tingling with the need for it, but he knew he had to keep his attention on the road if they wanted to get to the motel in one piece. His dick was definitely not happy about the lack of attention it was getting, though, hard and aching as if poked against the fabric of his suit pants.

Somehow, they made it all the way back to the motel. Dean parked the Impala and turned to the side, pretty much yanking Cas’ head up to kiss him once before, because he had gone the entire damn drive without doing it and he wasn’t getting out of this car without tasting Cas’ lips at least once.

Cas didn’t complain about it. In fact, he responded quite eagerly to it, opening his mouth as he slid their mouths together, his tongue probing and tasting the inside of Dean’s mouth like he was trying to map it in his head, memorizing every single detail he found.

At some point they got out of the car. From the corner of his eye, Dean caught sight of a few people standing by another car, watching them from the distance, and they had probably seen them in the car. Normally Dean would not be this obvious, but he just didn’t care right now; was too turned on and eager to just keep kissing Cas that he didn't even spare the people more than a quick glance. What he cared about was getting himself and Cas inside the motel room. That sounded like a pretty good idea, glorious even. Yeah, Dean loved that idea, very much so.

Important information for the future: a horny angel mouthing at your neck can be very,  _very_ distracting if you're trying to unlock a door.

Once inside, the first thing Dean became aware of was the hard surface of the wooden door being pressed against his back, and Cas’ body pushing him against it, cornering him against it and ravishing his mouth in the process. Cas’ hands were on him in a second, running over his torso and sending chills down his spine, and why the hell were they still wearing so many damn clothes?

Dean moved his hands up, pulling the trench coat off the angel’s shoulders, which Cas allowed to fall to the floor, hurrying to do the same with the suit jacket. The angel reached for Dean’s own jacket when he was done, allowing the hunter to lean away from the door for just long enough to take the thing off before slamming the human’s body back into it.

Briefly, Dean wondered if anyone heard the loud banging against the door. He was pretty sure they had.

It wasn’t like he cared, though.

The feeling of Cas’ hand traveling over his body was more intense now that Dean was only wearing his white dress shirt, but it was still not enough. He wanted that on his bare body, wanted to feel the warmness of Cas’ palm, his skin heating up with every single touch of the angel’s hands, the sweet, delicious goose bumps that would be traveling through his entire being, and he wanted to feel it right the fuck _now_.

Dean struggled a little with getting Cas’ tie, trying three times until the damn knot was loose enough for him to pull the thing over the angel’s head. He tried to open the buttons of Cas’ shirt, but his hands just didn’t want to follow his commands properly, so he ended up fumbling with them for a minute straight until Cas finally raised his own hands to undo the buttons and peel the shirt off.

Cas’ skin was on fire under Dean’s palms. It was smooth under his own skin, firm over the strong muscles it concealed below. Dean ran his hands over every inch of the angel's body that had been revealed, marveling in the feeling of skin against skin, over how fluid Cas’ motions were as he pressed Dean even harder against the door, how his body moved with precision and grace that could never be achieved by someone human.

Dean could feel the Mark burning in his arm, but the sensation was dulled by the way the bond flared up, engulfing his own being in a warmness that wasn’t painful like the Mark’s deadly and poisonous heat; it was exhilarating, sending Dean’s head into a spiral of lust and want that he couldn’t quite control or comprehend, making his limbs tingle and his heart race like it wanted to just right out of his chest. The Mark’s influence felt like a distant echo, while the bond felt like a powerful wave washing over his insides and making him lightheaded.

Cas didn’t seem to have much patience with Dean’s tie. He pulled at it a few times, not strongly enough to hurt Dean but still clearly impatiently, growling to himself when he couldn’t get it off.

Dean actually chuckled at that, pulling away from Cas for long enough to take it off himself. Cas, however, wasn’t willing to just wait for him to do that, because the moment Dean’s lips were off his own, the angel flew to Dean’s neck, something he was apparently very fond of doing, nibbling, sucking and licking his way over the skin like his life depended on it.

Cas worked his hand over Dean’s chest, pulling at the dress shirt and growling again, this time actually losing his patience. Dean didn’t even have the time to help him undo the buttons before the angel was pulling it open, tearing the buttons off the fabric, which clattered against the wooden floor as they fell, pulling the shirt roughly off Dean's shoulders and throwing it on the floor by their feet.

Yeah, well, at least Dean had another dress shirt in his duffel.

Which was _so_ irrelevant right now. Why was he thinking about that?

They let out unison moans at the feeling of their bare chests sliding together, so much freaking skin touching and it still wasn’t fucking _enough_.

Dean gasped when Cas slid his hand down his side, going right past his ass and gripping the back of his thigh, hooking it around his own waist so he could press their groins together, the friction of their hardened cocks pressed together making Dean close his eyes and throw his head back against the wooden door, another moan ripping out of his throat as he thrust his hips forward, chasing the sensation and loving the way Cas moaned in response against the skin of his neck.

“Cas,” Dean panted, barely able to get the words out of his mouth, his mind having all but quite helping him form coherent sentences, “Bed. Now.”

Cas didn’t need to be told twice.

With ease, the angel lifted Dean’s other leg, wrapping it around his waist like he had done with the other one, supporting the hunter’s weight like he weighed nothing as he literally carried Dean over to the bed, where he dropped him unceremoniously onto his back.

Dean could only watch as Cas hurried to undo his belt, pulling it off and bending over just enough to take off his own shoes and socks, getting rid of them. The pants came off next, leaving the angel in just his underwear, which he kept on as he practically pounced on Dean just a moment later, ridding him of the exact same items—his shoes, socks, belt and pants were gone in record time, being tossed carelessly over the edge of the bed.

The look in Cas’ eyes could only be described as _hungry_. He eyed Dean’s form on the bed for a second, as if drinking him in, his eyes darkened by his blown pupils, and it was only a short moment later that Cas was climbing up onto the bed.

Cas settled in the space between Dean’s legs, his body slotting perfectly against Dean’s as the angel leaned over the hunter to connect their lips once more. Dean’s hands wandered over Cas’ body, greedily taking in the heat coming off the angel’s skin and loving the way his muscles tensed and relaxed in timed intervals, swift motions flowing through Cas’ body as the angel slid over Dean. The angel’s hands gripped and wandered, too, traveling over Dean’s skin like Cas wanted to memorize every single detail he might have missed the last time they’d done this; feeling every single curve and edge of the human’s body with attention.

At some point, Cas tore their lips apart to tug Dean’s boxers down and off his legs, freeing the hunter’s erection at last. Cas’ lips were back on his own a seconds later, his hand hurrying to massage his shaft with precision, first in slow, careful strokes, but soon enough picking up a steady pace, working Dean’s length deliciously and making the human moan shamelessly with every flick of his wrist. Cas’ movements were careful and even more precise than the last time he had done this, like he had paid attention the last time to the details of Dean’s reactions, making mental notes of what exactly drove Dean crazy, what got the hunter closer and closer to the edge at a startling speed.

Dean’s hips had apparently developed a mind of their own, canting up and following Cas’ rhythm without Dean’s consent, searching for every single drop of pleasure it could get from the movements of his hips and Cas’ hands combined. He didn’t care much, though, because his mind just wasn’t working anymore, anyway. He just closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the pillow, supporting his bare feet on the mattress for leverage on his thrusting, gasping and moaning as he allowed his body to respond to Cas’ ministrations as it pleased. The angel followed him, though, gluing their lips together as if he wanted to swallow every moan, every sound that escaped the hunter’s lips, responding with his own groans every time the human’s hands squeezed his sides in response to the movements of his hand.

Dean could feel his orgasm building up already, the heat growing in his lower abdomen, the pressure building up in his belly. He was already sweating, his entire body burning up with his need for release. How the hell did Cas just fucking _know_ how to move his hand? He was like a pro or something, milking Dean’s member in all the right ways, driving the hunter closer and closer to his climax so fast Dean would be ashamed if he wasn’t so turned on right now.

“Cas, please, don’t stop,” Dean whined when Cas pulled away to rest their foreheads together, swallowing each other’s labored breaths through the two inches that separated their parted lips. Dean gasped as Cas let the pad of his thumb slide over Dean’s slit, smearing pre-come all over the tip of his cock. Dean’s hips shuddered at the sensation, his hands dropping and clenching around the sheets as he tried to get a grip on his sanity. It wasn’t working well for him at all. “Just like that, Cas… just like that, oh god…”

His head was spinning around, wave after wave of pleasure and warmth washing over his insides and numbing his thoughts. His nervous system felt like it was on overdrive, everything feeling all too vivid, every touch more intense, which Dean assumed must be happening because of the bond. He wondered if Cas could feel this all, if he could feel what he was doing to Dean, if his sensations were echoing through it somehow, spilling through the bond and through Cas’ own nerves, and the human moaned at the single thought of it.

Dean knew he was a mess right now. He could barely talk, his mind shutting down on him, his voice breaking at every word as moan after moan was ripped out of his lips, but he just didn’t care. Cas was giving him the best hand job in the history of hand jobs, and all he could do was lay there and enjoy it, because _holy fucking hell, that felt fucking amazing._

His orgasm was close; he could feel it. The waves of pleasure grew more intense with every thrust; the heat at the base of his spine grew hotter; his movements lost their rhythm and became uncoordinated spasms. He was _so damn close_ …

And that was when Cas chose to stop.

Dean felt as much as he heard the whine that came out of his lips as he opened his eyes to look at Cas, trying to understand why the hell he had stopped moving that glorious hand and try to locate said hand, which really should be back on his dick, but for whatever reason, _was not_.

All Dean could do was watch as Cas leaned back down to kiss him again, this time not a hungry, lustful kiss, but a slow, gentle one that was so not unlike what Dean was feeling right now the hunter was kind of lost in what to make of it.

Dean meant to ask why Cas had stopped; why the sudden shift in his actions, but all that came out was a low, “Wha…” Dean’s tongue felt heavy, uncoordinated and basically useless in his mouth. His lips tingled with energy, numbing them and making it even harder to speak with his incoherent thoughts.

“I want you inside me, Dean,” Cas whispered against his lips, his words breathy and voice struggled, like he, too, was having trouble forming sentences.

Dean actually fucking _whimpered_ at those words, the single thought of being _inside_ Cas almost sending him over the edge right then and there. He closed his eyes shut tightly, so much he could see bright dots in the back of his eyelids, biting the inside of his cheek and driving his nails into his palm to stop his oncoming orgasm, or else this party would be over before it even got started.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathed out, finally allowing his eyes to open. The angel was staring down at him with expectant blue eyes, his pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed with arousal, his hair even messier than normal. Dean could really get used to seeing Cas like this.

“You seemed to enjoy it very much last time,” Cas was still talking for some reason, and somehow Dean managed to get a hold of the angel’s words, “I want…” Cas swallowed, for some reason not finishing that sentence. His eyes were wide and hopeful as he stared down at Dean from where he was propped up on his elbows, almost like he expected Dean to turn down his request.

As if _that_ could possibly happen.

“We can do that,” Dean breathed out, smiling lightly and reaching up so he could card his fingers through Cas’ soft, dark, disheveled hair.

Cas smiled back in response, leaning down to kiss Dean on the lips once more. The kiss wasn’t urgent like it had been before. It was slow, sensual and careful, just a patient slide of mouths together, though its passion was still obvious, latent and potent as it burned beneath their skin with the pleasured thrumming of the bond echoing through their beings in unison.

“But there’s something I want to try first,” Dean breathed as he peeled their lips apart once more. He had an idea forming in his head; something he really wanted to try. He had thought about it last time, but hadn’t dared to attempt it. But now, he wanted to do it; wanted to try it.

Cas frowned just barely, but nodded, and didn’t resist when Dean pushed him lightly, signaling for him to lean back.

“Lie on your back,” Dean instructed, and Cas quickly complied, stretching out on the bed beside Dean, lying on his back and watching the hunter with a curious look on his eyes.

Dean kneeled on the bed, gripping the waistband of Cas’ boxers in his hands and pulling them off. He couldn’t help but licking his lips in anticipation at the sight of Cas’ hardened length, leaking and just begging for attention. Dean almost felt bad for letting Cas give him a hand job when the angel had been so desperately needing some attention too, but he was about to make them even right now.

“Do you trust me?” Dean had to be sure Cas was on board with this, or that he was at least allowing Dean to do this, even if the angel might not know what exactly that was.

Cas nodded not even a second later, “Of course.” His voice did not have even one single hint of hesitation or doubt; it was filled with conviction and certainty, so much it made Dean smile a little.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

At Cas’ nod, Dean lowered his head, licking the tip of Cas’ cock, savoring the strong taste of the pre-come slipping out of the slit.

Cas freaking _howled_ at that, throwing his head back and opening his mouth wide as he gasped in surprise. The angel’s hips buckled, probably against his consent.

Dean smirked at the reaction, raising his head to glance at Cas. “You okay there, buddy?”

Cas was panting when he raised his head to look up at Dean. His eyes were wide, his lips parted, like he wasn’t sure what had just happened or how to process it. Finally, he nodded, his voice almost guttural as he ordered, “Again.”

Dean smiled at the word, not bothering to reply as he lowered his head once more, this time taking his time to lick a trail from the base of Cas’ cock up to the tip, cleaning it of the pre-come that had been sliding over the shaft, loving the feeling of the pulsating vein against his tongue.

Cas’ hands gripped the sheets around him as the angel threw his head back once more, his hips thrusting up into the air, as though to try and chase the feeling Dean’s tongue provided.

Deciding that was encouragement enough, Dean opened his mouth and took Cas into his mouth.

The sound Cas made wasn’t normal. It was a broken, breathy sound that resembled a moan, but that wasn’t quite it. Enochian words began to jump right out of his mouth as Cas gasped, his back arching off the bed, and Dean was pretty sure he heard his name there somewhere, but he wasn’t sure. Dean reached out for Cas’ hand while he adjusted to the presence in his mouth, loving the weight of Cas’ dick on his tongue. He moved Cas’ hand over to his head, and Cas instantly grabbed his hair, tugging at it with every move of Dean tongue, every time the hunter slid his mouth up and down Cas’ length.

Dean moaned as his own dick tingled, waves of pleasure that didn’t exactly belong to him ran over his own member. That was when he realized the bond did in fact project the other’s sensations, because he was pretty sure he was feeling an echo of what Cas was feeling right now in his own cock. Cas moaned in response as Dean’s throat shook with the sounds the hunter was making, lifting his hips from the mattress repeatedly.

One particular thrust from Cas’ hips went straight for Dean’s throat, and he coughed, pulling away and gagging a little, his throat protesting at the sudden assault.

Cas looked up at that, startled, his eyes almost panicked. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” His voice was wrecked, breaking at every word, his breath so heavy it was a wonder how he actually managed words right now, and yet he still worried if he had hurt Dean.

Dean shook his head, blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes. “No, just… Try not to move your hips like that. Just relax, alright?”

Cas nodded, closing his eyes and waiting, a clear sign for Dean to continue.

This time, when Dean wrapped his mouth around Cas’ cock, the angel kept his hips completely still, a frown of concentration clear on his face even through the broken moans he let out every few seconds. There was still the eventual buckle that Cas couldn’t control, but Dean was careful not to let it choke him again, especially when he took Cas’ cock all the way down his throat and swallowed around it a few times. Cas seemed to like that _very_ much, pulling at the Dean’s hair almost painfully and letting out a string of broken, breathless moans.

Dean could tell Cas was getting close by the way the angel’s movements grew more careless, more desperate, like he couldn’t quite control them anymore; like his hips had developed a mind of their own and Cas couldn’t find it in him to stop thrusting up into Dean’s mouth, even if he was clearly trying very hard to stay still.

That was when Dean chose to remove his mouth from Cas’ cock, pulling back with a pop. Looking up, he smirked at the sight of Cas, the angel’s chest rising and falling in quick motions, his eyes closed and lips parted.

“I’m guessing you enjoyed that,” Dean commented, a smirk lazily playing on his lips as he leaned over Cas’ body, positioning himself between Cas’ legs, just as the angel had done before when their positions had been inverted.

Cas used the hand that was still gripping Dean’s hair to pull the hunter’s head down do their lips could meet in another kiss, this one much more urgent and careless, with teeth scraping against each other’s every so often, their stubble brushing against each other’s just the right way. Dean groaned at the slight burn, tilting his head to deepen the kiss even more.

As much as Dean wanted to just keep kissing Cas like that forever, he somehow managed to pull away, because the perspective of actually being _inside_ Cas still loomed over his mind, and that sounded so, _so_ much better than what they had done so far tonight.

Cas whined a little at the loss of contact when Dean rolled to the side and bent his body over the edge of the bed so he could reach his duffel, quickly returning to his spot over Cas with his bottle of lube gripped tightly in his hand.

“There’s no need, Dean,” Cas breathed out when he spotted the bottle, shaking his head just barely, as if he couldn’t entirely manage the movement, “You won’t hurt me.”

“Not a chance, Cas,” Dean was quick to reply, because he had made the mistake of being too urgent before and not prepping enough, and he found out the worst way possible that rushing through this was definitely not worth it not being able to sit down for a whole freaking week. And even if Cas could heal himself so that it wouldn’t hurt, he would have to use his borrowed Grace for that, which was something Dean would very much like to prevent from happening.

“Dean…”

“Don’t,” Dean opened the bottle with a snap, pouring some of the liquid onto his hand and coating his middle, index and ring fingers on it, “Trust me, Cas, if I don’t prep you enough, you’re going to regret it later.” Tossing the small bottle aside for later use, Dean smirked at Cas, who still didn’t look entirely convinced, “Besides,” He lowered his hand, letting it travel down Cas’ body until it was looming over the angel’s entrance, “I can make this very enjoyable.”

Teasingly, Dean slid the tip of his middle finger over Cas’ perineum, feeling the tight rim of muscles around Cas' entrance contracting and relaxing in expectation. The angel watched Dean’s every movement with attention, as if taking mental notes with his eyes, or maybe he just really liked to watch. Either way, Dean felt encouraged enough to continue, slowly pressing the tip of his slippery middle finger into Cas’ hole.

The angel hissed, and Dean stopped, snapping his head up to glance at Cas’ expression. “Relax, Cas,” the hunter whispered, trying to ease Cas into the intrusion. “The pain will fade, trust me.”

Cas nodded, though his eyes remained closed, letting out a breath through his parted lips, “Go on.”

Dean complied when he felt Cas’ body relax just barely around his digit, albeit slowly, careful not to push too quickly or too strongly into Cas, afraid to hurt the angel. The point of prepping him like this was exactly _not_ to hurt him.

Cas’ muscles relaxed around his finger eventually, allowing it to slide all the way in, right to the knuckle. Paying attention to every reaction he got from Cas, Dean carefully pulled his finger out, loving the way Cas’ muscles constricted around it, as if not wanting to let it go. He pushed it and out a few times, reveling in the small gasps that had begun to escape Cas’ lips every now and then.

When Dean felt close to no restriction to his finger’s movements anymore, he positioned his index finger by Cas’ entrance, hesitating before pushing inside. “I’m going to add another one, alright?”

At Cas’ eager nod, Dean pushed in.

Cas didn’t resist as much this time, apparently getting used to something in his ass for the first time, even rocking a little on the bed, testing out the sensations the movements might create and clearly enjoying them very much. Dean felt him loosen around his fingers soon enough, and he folded his fingers a little, looking for that precise _spot…_

Cas’ back arched off the bed without warning, the guttural moan that tore out of the angel’s throat sounding almost painful to his vocal chords, the sound of it going straight to Dean’s dick as the echo from the Cas’ pleasure washed over his body through the bond.

_Found it._

Dean smirked, “That’s your prostate.” Cas gave him a look that could only mean one of two things—he was either too out of it to process those words, or he just didn’t care and had no idea why Dean was talking in that moment. Either way, Dean got the message easily enough, resuming to move his fingers in and out in a constant pace, pulling and pushing the two digits, hitting that same spot a few more times while spreading his fingers apart and scissoring Cas’ hole until he felt confident enough that a third finger wouldn’t hurt the angel.

Dean added a third finger, and Cas was a moaning mess in no time; hips jerking, chest heaving, skin flushed and lips parted as he gasped repeatedly, the single sight of it so potent Dean could barely drink it all in. Dean could barely believe this was actually happening, and this wasn’t the first time they were intimate. And yet, it was still a foreign concept to him, that this could actually be true. But if it were a dream, he sure as hell didn’t want to wake up from it.

When Dean decided Cas was open enough, he pulled all fingers out at once, hearing a small whimper coming from the angel in response to the sudden loss of contact.

Reaching out to the side, Dean quickly located the bottle of lube he had tossed aside earlier. “Cas, are you sure about this?”

Cas raised his head from the pillow, giving the hunter what Dean could only define as an incredulous look. Still, the hunter needed confirmation to continue, so he waited, bottle of lube in his hand.

“Dean, I want this,” There was no hesitation in the angel’s voice, not a single hint. His eyes were almost pleading, “I really do.”

Dean nodded, swallowing as his nerves began to catch up to him. He had never felt this nervous before sex before, but this wasn’t just anyone; this wasn’t just a one night stand. He wasn’t topping to some random dude he picked up on a bar; he would be topping to Cas, who had never bottomed before, and Dean wanted to make sure Cas felt good. He didn’t want to hurt the angel in any way, and he definitely didn’t want to do anything wrong.

Going into auto-pilot, Dean squeezed the small bottle until he had a handful of lube spilled onto his palm, tossing the bottle aside for good this time. Rubbing his hand over his own erection, Dean made sure his cock was completely coated in lube, maybe even using a little more of the substance than he usually did, just to be safe, gritting his teeth together at the unintentional stimulation to his already very much hard and sensitive dick.

When he was happy with the result, he looked back up at Cas, leaning forward so he could position himself in between Cas’ parted legs once more, hovering over the angel, who was watching his every movement with attentive eyes.

“You ready?” Dean asked, searching Cas’ face for any hint of uncertainty or hesitation. He found none.

Cas nodded in response, whispering, “Please.”

That crumble any resolve Dean might have had, and he hurried to grab his own cock in his hand, positioning it against Cas’ entrance, closing his eyes as his muscles tensed in expectation. Before he could put too much thought into what he was about to do, Dean pushed forward, feeling Cas’ body hug the head of his dick as it progressed inwards.

Cas tensed around him as Dean pushed inside, resisting against the penetration. Dean had expected it, because he knew first hand that a dick had a lot more girth than a few fingers down there, but he stilled his movements nonetheless, glancing over at Cas’ face to watch the angel’s reaction.

“Tell me if it hurts too much and I’ll stop, okay?” Dean breathed out.

Cas nodded weakly. “It’s burning a little, but it’s not unbearable.”

Yeah, Dean knew how that felt. So he waited for Cas to adjust a little more before he continued to push forward, sliding inside inch by inch, careful with the sounds Cas made and stopping from time to time to make sure the angel was okay. He bit his lips at the feeling of pure _heat_ around him, the tightness of Cas’ body as it engulfed him, making it harder and harder for him to resist the urge to just slide all the way in already.

Somehow, he managed to go slow until he bottomed out. He stopped moving then, panting at the effort it took him to stay still. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he tried to even his breathing, biting down on his lips so hard he might break the skin, his hands curling around the sheets under his palms. He was _inside_ Cas right now, the feeling of Cas’ body wrapped around his dick, so hot it sent goose bumps all over Dean’s skin, made him tremble with the need to move.

But Dean held still for two reasons.

One, he didn’t want to hurt Cas, and he knew it would take a few moments for the angel’s body to get used to his presence and relax enough for him to move without it being painful.

And two, Dean was pretty sure if he moved he would come right then and there, and that would be pretty awkward. The only thing keeping his orgasm at bay was the pain coming from his teeth sinking into the skin of his lip. He focused on the pain coming from it and tried to clear up his head, because if he focused on _anything else_ that was happening right now, he wouldn’t last long enough for Cas to adjust.

It was Cas who moved first.

Dean wasn’t sure how long it had been, but finally the angel moved his hips a little, as if testing the waters, and he let out a gasp at the movement, one that clearly wasn’t pained.

Dean took that as his cue.

Tentatively, Dean jerked his own hips, opening his eyes to watch as Cas’ lips parted, letting out a mixture of a gasp and a moan. Smirking, Dean repeated the movement a few times, making sure to go slow, as hard as that was. Cas’ body squeezed his member just the right way as he moved in and out, tightening around his dick when he moved back and putting up just enough resistance as he pushed back in.

The built up a steady rhythm together, although Cas’ movements were much more eager than Dean’s, who was trying to keep control of his hips and go slow at first. That, however, was getting exponentially hard, especially with Cas grinding up in a much quicker pace than his. The bond wasn’t helping, offering Dean an echo of everything Cas was feeling, sending wave after wave of goose bumps all over his body and making his entire being tingle with pleasure.

“Damn, Cas…” Dean muttered against the skin of Cas’ collarbone, feeling the way Cas’ chest heaved with every breath he took, shaking with every gasp and moan that escaped his lips, “You’re… You’re going to kill me like that…” He let out a broken moan as Cas grabbed the hunter’s sides in response, pulling him down and making Dean’s hips move much faster than before. Dean moaned loudly at the change, overwhelmed by the way Cas’s body rubbed his cock as he moved in and out, squeezing him so deliciously it made him see star behind his eyelids.

Screw going slow.

Dean grabbed Cas’ leg for leverage, pulling it up, and Cas got the hint easily enough, quickly wrapping the muscular limb around Dean’s torso, angling their bodies in a way that had Dean going even deeper into Cas, extracting a string of broken moans and gasps from both of them.

“Cas, you, ah… you feel so good,” Dean couldn’t stop the words from flowing out of his mouth, barely managing to speak coherently at all. His words were broken by his moans, but he was pretty sure Cas understood them, “So _fucking_ good.” Dean’s brain was shortcutting and he could barely form something more coherent than that.

“Dean…” Cas actually growled at those, wrapping his other leg around Dean’s body and tightening them both around the hunter, taking Dean even deeper and arching his back at the feeling as Dean’s cock pressed down on his prostate. Dean smirked, making sure to hit the exact same spot that had caused that reaction out of Cas, watching as the angel squirmed under him, muscles trembling and a constant chain of moans slipping out of his lips.

The heat in the core of Dean’s body had already begun forming, growing more and more intense with every thrust as his orgasm grew closer. Dean could feel Cas’ movements were growing more frantic, less controlled, and he could tell the angel was also getting close. At that realization, Dean reached for Cas’ abandoned hard cock, gripping it in his hand as he fucked Cas, feeling the pre-come coating his fingers as he squeezed and pulled at Cas’ dick.

Cas howled at the added sensation, his back arching off the bed once more.

The bond was going wild as it flared, and at some point, Dean couldn’t tell what sensations were his own or Cas’ anymore.

Dean paid attention to every single sign Cas gave, to every reaction, every sound that escaped Cas’ lips, drinking it all in. It was overwhelming, just as it had been the first time they had slept together, to see Cas coming undone like this, his body thrashing under Dean’s, his lips parted and eyes closed, panting and moaning and gasping and just so clearly overwhelmed by pleasure. It was the most perfect sight Dean had even laid his eyes on.

Cas came first.

Dean watched as Cas’ back arched once more, as the angel’s body broke into violent spasms, as Cas’ entire being shook as he let out his loudest moan so far, as his hands gripped Dean’s sides even more strongly, as Cas’ body tightened around Dean’s member repeatedly. Cas eyes were lit up, Grace making the blue in his irises even clearer, as did his body, angelic light escaping through his skin and making it look almost translucent, but it didn’t go beyond that. Cas’ Grace didn’t spill out of him again, didn’t light up the entire room, and somehow Dean realized maybe Cas was holding it back somehow this time.

The bond echoed with Cas’ orgasm, so intense Dean's eyes rolled to the back of his head and sent the hunter right over the edge with Cas, shaking above the angel with the force of their orgasms combined, moaning shamelessly as he unloaded his own release into Cas’ body. He felt Cas’ dick twitch in his own hand, as well as Cas’ warm come covering his hand, sliding over his skin.

Dean wasn’t sure just how long it lasted; he just knew that this orgasm had easily joined the list of the best and strongest one of his entire life. He couldn’t even remain up when it ended, instead collapsing over Cas’ body as his arms and legs gave out with under him, his muscles shaking, completely spent. He could hear Cas’ heart racing inside the angel’s chest, which was rising and falling repeatedly as Cas panted. Dean smiled at it, closing his eyes as he waited for his own racing heart and rapid breathing to slow down.

At some point, Cas allowed his legs to slide down onto the mattress and off Dean’s torso, one of his hands coming up to trace lazy patterns on the skin of Dean’s bare back. He already could feel the chills as his body grew cooler; the heat of sex quickly washing away and allowing Dean to realize the room was pretty cold, especially as the air hit his sweaty skin.

Dean could feel Cas’ come on his stomach, slowly drying away, and he knew that as much as he wanted to fall asleep like this, he would regret it in the morning when he woke up with dry come stuck to his skin and hair.

Focusing on that thought, Dean began to lean away from Cas, raising his body off the angel’s body and supporting his weight onto his complaining arms. Cas’ arms quickly wrapped around his body, restraining his movements as the angel whined.

Dean chuckled at that, raising his head to look at Cas, noticing the confused and pleading look on the angel’s face. “I’m just going to get us something to clean up,” he whispered with a smile. The hunter leaned down, kissing Cas’ lips gently in reassurance. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Cas still hesitated, but finally allowed his hold to weaken, letting his arms slide off Dean’s body. He was already soft by now, though they both gasped as his cock slid out of Cas. The human sat up, getting out of the bed and walking over to the bathroom door, wincing as his worn muscles protested at his every movement. All he felt like doing right now was slip back into that bed, curl up to Cas and sleep for a fucking week.

Inside the bathroom, Dean found a few clean towels under the sink. He damped them in the sink and rubbed his hand and stomach free of semen, cleaning the skin as best as he could before walking back into the room to do the same for Cas.

The angel was already half asleep when Dean returned, his eyelids half open as he watched Dean work his stomach clean of come. When he was done, Dean threw the dirty towels into the laundry basket in the corner so it would get washed later on when they left the room.

Dean pulled at the comforter, and Cas shifted a little, allowing Dean to get it out from under the angel and cover Cas with it, before crawling onto the bed himself, scooting closer to Cas’ warmth under the comforter. Cas’ arms were around him as soon as he was close enough, bringing Dean’s naked body as close as it would get to Cas’, pressing the hunter flush against him. Dean had to tangle their legs together to actually fit against Cas, and the angel sighed sleepily at the contact.

Dean chuckled lowly at the fact that Cas seemed to be quite fond of cuddling. Not that he was complaining. “You’re pretty worn out, huh?” Dean couldn’t help but comment, lying on his side so he could face Cas, their faces just a few inches apart, “I’m assuming it was good.”

Cas opened his eyes at that, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “I enjoyed that very much, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dean smiled at that. “I did too.”

He decided not to comment on the fact it was very closely to the best sex he had ever had, probably only losing to the first time they’d done this, back in Omaha. That had been a little more intense than tonight, though Cas was a little more experienced this time, Dean could easily sense the shift. He honestly couldn’t choose between both times.

“What did you prefer?” he decided to ask instead, “Topping or bottoming?”

Cas frowned, giving Dean a confused look.

Right, Cas probably didn’t know what the terms meant. “Topping means doing the, you know, ‘giving’, and bottoming the ‘receiving’, if you get what I mean.”

“Oh,” Cas seemed to get it then, nodding lightly. “I’m not sure which one I enjoyed best. I liked both very much. Do I have to choose?”

Dean smiled, happy to hear that, because even though he himself didn’t seem to have a preference in the positions department when it came to Cas, if Cas had told him he preferred either topping or bottoming, Dean could get behind anything the angel wanted. “No, we can take turns. I actually like both too.”

Cas smiled at those words, “Good.” The angel’s hands dove upwards to Dean’s neck, pressing against the back of it and bringing the hunter even closer, so much that Dean was soon lying with his head using Cas’ shoulder as a pillow.

Dean had never done anything like this, had never been so... comfortable with being this close to someone, not even with Lisa. It just had never felt so... right, for lack of a better word, an embrace so warm and comfortable his muscles all but gave up on working. He wasn't used to cuddling, and whenever anyone had tried it, he had fled soon after, as soon as they were asleep, because Dean Winchester just didn’t cuddle, and he definitely was never the little spoon in the few times he had cuddled. But this was _Cas_ , and just lying there with his face pressed against the crook of Cas’ neck and his head lying on the angel’s chest just felt so freaking good that Dean couldn’t find the will to move, didn't want to look for it at all.

Cas’ fingers started to run through his hair, carding through it gently as Dean listened to Cas’ now much calmer and steadier heartbeat, feeling it against his cheek as the angel’s chest rose and fell rhythmically. The bond was thrumming lowly, content and making Dean feel sleepy, his eyelids growing heavy all of a sudden. He threw an arm over Cas’ torso, sighing as he melted even closer to Cas’ body. He smiled at the feeling of Cas’ body, firm and warm against his, realizing that he could really get used to this.

“Sleep,” Cas whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s hair.

And that was exactly what Dean did.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean squinted in discomfort at the brightness he could see through his eyelids, groaning lowly as he slowly returned to consciousness.

He was warm; that was the first thing he noticed. He was surrounded by it; a heat that covered his entire being and curled up inside his body. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though, it was actually pretty good, so much he instinctively tried to bury himself even deeper under the heavy comforter he could feel draped over his back.

Something shifted under him.

Frowning, Dean opened his eyes slowly. Raising his head, he blinked a few times before his vision returned to focus, giving him a clear view of the reason why he was feeling so warm.

Cas was still sleeping, snoring softly, such a low sound Dean could barely hear it. They hadn’t moved at all during the night, which meant Dean was still basically lying half on top of Cas, their legs tangled together and Dean’s arm thrown over the angel’s torso while Cas still hugged him close with strong arms firmly wrapped around the hunter’s middle, even in his sleep.

Dean smiled at the sight, letting out a content sigh and lowering his head back to where it had been before, nuzzling his face into the crook of Cas’ neck and breathing in the angel’s scent. Cas didn’t smell like anything too strong, but there was a hint of something on his skin, something that reminded Dean of a mixture of mint and honey for some reason, though he couldn’t quite explain it. He liked it.

This, right there, was what he had expected to wake up to in Omaha; what he had craved, even if subconsciously, and he had felt the pain of not having this when he realized Cas was gone. Having it happen now, even after everything they had gone through after the first time they had slept together, did not fail to bring a smile to Dean’s lips. As cheesy and girly as it sounded, Dean didn’t care about how Cas had left the first time too much anymore, not after last night; what mattered to him was that he had Cas in his arms right now.

Of course, there was no need to comment on the fact that he was the little spoon right now. Or that he actually enjoyed it. Nope, no need to comment on it at all.

For what felt like an hour, Dean just lay there, enjoying the warmness of the body wrapped around his own and failing terribly at finding the will to move from the bed. The bond buzzed lightly inside his body, subtle and calm, making Dean feel light and careless, for once. If he could, he would just forget about the case, Cas’ fading Grace and the Mark of Cain; he would just send everything to hell and stay here, frozen in that moment.

It still felt unreal, to know this was actually happening; that he was allowed to touch Cas like this, to hold him and feel the angel’s skin against his own without shame or fear of being caught lingering for too long; that he could breathe Cas’ scent in as much as he wanted to, without fear of what Cas’ reaction would be if he woke up. This was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

But he couldn’t stay there forever, and as the minutes passed, Dean reminded himself of that several times, until he finally managed to make his body move. His muscles protested against it, burning after all the effort he had made last night—Cas had really worn him out, and he definitely wasn’t going to complain about that—but he somehow succeeded in pulling away from Cas’ warm and inviting body.

He had to be careful and use all of his skills to pry himself free from Cas’ embrace, which grew relatively tighter once the angel seemed to sense his heat source was trying to move away, but in the end, Cas ended up cuddling to a pillow and Dean stood by the side of the bed, bending down so he could pick up all the discarded clothes scattered across the floor, arranging them in a neat pile resting on a nearby chair.

A glance over at the clock on the nightstand told him it was almost ten in the morning. Damn, they had slept in late this morning.

Deciding Cas could use some more sleep, Dean hopped into the shower, cleaning away any evidence from their late night activities that might have stayed behind after he’d cleaned them up quite precariously. His skin felt weird, sticky because of the dried sweat, and there was a spot of white come stuck on the hairs of his right leg, probably Cas’. He cleaned it all away, enjoying the feeling of hot water as it ran over his spent muscles and eased away any tension that might have built up in them overnight.

He was careful to leave some hot water to Cas, not taking too long in the shower.

When he walked back into the room, completely naked and dripping a little, he found Cas awake, much to his surprise. The angel was sitting on the bed, a grumpy pout on his lips as he blinked, most likely trying to rid his eyes of the lingering sleepiness.

“Morning,” Dean grinned, stepping out of the bathroom and over to where his clothes were.

“What time is it?” Cas’ voice was still husky from sleep, his face screwed up in an adorable frown. He was clearly not fully awake, his eyes not even really open and completely unfocused. It was pretty amusing, and kind of cute.

“A little past ten,” Dean replied, picking up his clothes from the chair and carefully laying them down at the foot of the bed, “I’m going to go get us both something to eat. You have any requests?”

“Coffee,” was Cas’ response.

Dean chuckled at that. He was just about to start putting on some clothes, running his hands over the fabric and feeling glad to realize that nothing was too rumpled to be used today, when he glanced up at Cas for just a second, and then paused when he realized the angel's eyes were suddenly much more alert than they had been barely a moment ago. Dean smirked, suddenly realizing the similarity between this and what Cas had done only last morning, though he hadn't realized he had been doing exactly the same thing the angel had done until he noticed Cas' eyes running up and down over his body.

"See something you like?" Dean grinned, leaving his clothes on the bed and walking over to where Cas was sitting, and maybe he should feel self-conscious about the way Cas followed his every movement with unwavering focus, but he didn't, not at all. He actually felt pretty bold because of it, sitting down onto the matress and pulling Cas forward to kiss him, sliding their mouths together slowly and lazily a few times before Cas pulled away.

"Very much, in fact," the angel practically purred against his lips, and suddenly Dean was being pulled fully onto the bed and toward Cas.

Somehow Dean ended up straddling Cas on the bed, not once letting their lips part. There was suddenly so much skin under his hands, rubbing against his own and just about everywhere that the hunter felt himself getting hard pretty fast, especially when Cas gripped his hips and pulled him down. Their erections touched deliciously and Dean had to tear their mouths apart to let out a groan at the sensation.

"Fuck, Cas..."

Lowering his head, Dean mouthed at the skin of Cas' neck, loving the way the angel shivered, shuddering at the contact as he gasped, "Dean..." Cas' hand found Dean's hair and tugged his forward as the angel let his head fall back to give Dean better access to his throat. Dean grinned against Cas' skin, tasting every single inch of skin he came across, licking, kissing and biting all over it, discovering the delicious sounds Cas made as he did so.

He could feel Cas' hardened length poking at the inside of his thigh, rivaling his own very much rigid cock, so he allowed his hands to wander away from the angel's shoulders, one settling onto massaging the seraph's neck while the other snaked its way much lower, making a trail down past Cas' muscled stomach. Gripping Cas' throbbing cock in his hand, Dean began to stroke him slowly, still mouthing at the angel's throat, panting over the skin and groaning when he felt Cas' grip on his hips tighten.

"Dean..."

Cas' hands began to travel as well, moving to claw at Dean's back in time with the movements of Dean's hands, squeezing the flesh beneath them so deliciously Dean moaned against Cas' skin.

Dean paused his hand after a while, bringing his own erection to rub against Cas', closing his eyes and gasping at the sensation, at the pure ecstasy that washed over his entire being as their hardened shafts brushed together, hot and throbbing and coated with pre-come from both of them. He felt Cas groan in response to the contact, his throat trembling with the echo of the sound. Closing his eyes, Dean kept their cocks together, holding them both in his hand as he began to massage their lenghts together, and _holy fucking hell, that felt so fucking good..._

"Cas..." Cas' hand was suddenly covering his around their cocks, putting more speed into his movements, adding a whole new wave of pleasure that washed over their insides, making Dean's back arch, a howl tearing through his lips as heat began to build in his very core. The bond was thrumming to strongly he couldn't be sure where every sensation was coming from, instead just letting his body move in his own accord, letting everything he was feeling overwhelm him in the best way possible. He could feel his hips moving, thrusting up into their joined hands, his other hand gripping Cas' shoulder to steady his body. "Fuck, Cas... I'm gonna... I, ah..."  _He was so damn close..._

Dean came first. His hips stuttered, his entire body shaking as he buried his face into Cas' neck, feeling his muscles convulse at the strength of his second climax in the course of twelve hours. He felt Cas' orgasm through the bond just a few seconds after, adding a whole new layer of pleasure that washed through his body, and for a while he couldn't even feel his body, didn't know where Cas ended and he started. Cas lit up again, the warmness of the angelic light washing over Dean's skin and only adding to his ecstasy.

When he finally came to again, he was panting against Cas, lying on top of the angel because somehow they had collapsed onto the bed. Cas' own breathing was labored, heavy, his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart racing against Dean's own ribcage.

"Damn, Cas," Dean chuckled, kissing the side of Cas' neck lightly, nibbling at the skin just barely.

"I am really starting to understand the appeal of sexual interaction," was Cas' response, and Dean couldn't help but let out a low, surprised laugh at it.

So of course Dean had to take a second shower after that, mindful once more to leave some hot water for Cas. For a moment, he had felt inclined to ask if Cas wanted to join him in the shower 'to save water', but decided against it for two reasons. One, Cas was still getting used to all of this, and he didn't want to overwhelm him with too much at once. And two, they really wouldn't be able to leave this room and work the case if they got going again.

Dean did leave the door of the bathroom unlocked and partially open, though, just in case Cas decided he wanted to go in there on his own. And Dean definitely wouldn't stop him if he did.

He didn't, though, so once Dean was out of the shower he walked back over to where his clothes were, watching as Cas made his way into the bathroom for his own shower.

Fifteen minute later, Dean was already dressed in his penguin suit (and second dress shirt, because the first one had no buttons at the moment), driving Baby to the diner to get him and Cas some breakfast to go. He had liked the coffee from yesterday, and the dinner from last night had also been pretty good, so he hoped breakfast would follow the pattern.

The same cheery girl that had been their waitress last night was there cleaning a few tables when he got inside, which had Dean wondering how the hell she managed the hours, and she flashed him a smile when he went inside.

“Hey, you thinking about becoming a regular here?” she asked, still rubbing the damp cloth in her hand over the table. Apart from the two of them, there were very little people in the place, just three, from what Dean could see—a couple and a lonely guy in the back having a cup of coffee. Dean couldn’t even see anyone from the staff around. It wasn’t surprising, though, it was a too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. It would be a surprise if the place was packed, to be honest.

Dean smiled politely, shaking his head, “Nah, just passing through town for a few days.”

“Road trip?”

“Working,” He’d had this conversation a few too many times already over the years. He took his badge out, just for good measure, and showed her, watching as a look of surprise took over the girl’s features. “Special agent Rogers.”

“Oh,” She seemed a little impressed, “Well, what can I do for you, agent?” She smiled at him, leaning back from the table as she stopped cleaning.

Dean recognized the signs immediately. The girl was flirting with him, and very openly too; there was just no misreading her tone. Normally, this would be the time when Dean would start to flirt back, give the first his most charming smile and start with the sneaky, lingering glances. He had done this dance many times throughout the years, knew the motions so perfectly they came to him naturally now.

But this wasn’t one of those times. For a moment, Dean was actually kind of lost on what to do, just trying to decide whether he should smile politely or not, almost fearful that she might understand the gesture wrongly somehow, even though he knew he really shouldn't be so worried about that. It wasn't like he would lead her on, of course not, and a single smile couldn't be harmful when it didn't mean anything. It was almost weird just how quickly his brain came to recognize this as foreign and just plainly _wrong_ since he’d gotten together with Cas.

“You guys still serving breakfast here or is it too late for that?” Dean asked, choosing to smile politely in the end, “Kind of slept in late today.”

The girl gave him an apologetic smile, shrugging lightly. “No, sorry. But we might have a few bagels still.”

Dean nodded at that, “Well, give me those to go, then. And two black coffees, two packets of sugar in each.”

The girl smiled sweetly at him, the sight a lot less out there than before as she suddenly seemed to go back to her usual, cheery self as she announced, “Coming right up.”

She vanished into the kitchen, and Dean waited by the counter, leaning against it and staring out the window at the people walking outside. Five more people had arrived at the diner by the time the girl emerged from the inside, another waitress that came out of the back having already started taking their orders. The smell of the food being prepared for lunch was becoming strong in the air coming from the kitchen, and Dean instantly felt his stomach making a turn, a wave of nausea hitting him without warning. He swallowed, closing his eyes and breathing in and out slowly. He really didn’t want to throw up here, so he had to get his shit together.

The girl rested a small brown bag onto the counter and to steaming cups beside it, smiling at Dean. “Here it is. Is that all?”

Dean nodded, feeling glad that his nausea hadn’t developed into something stronger just yet, “Yup.”

Another fifteen minutes later, Dean was already parking before his and Cas’ room door at the motel, practically flying out the car and making a run into the room and struggling a lot more with the damn keys than he should have. His nausea had gotten _a lot_ worse during the car ride, so much he had been sure he wouldn’t make it to the bedroom before it got more violent, but the thought of getting his Baby covered in puke had been enough to keep his nausea at bay until he reached the motel.

Dean barely caught a glance of Cas’ worried and confused face once he got inside as he ran past the angel (who was clearly freshly showered and already fully clothed, probably just waiting for Dean to get back), heading straight to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet and emptying his stomach.

Closing his eyes, Dean tried to even his breathing, but that was hard to do when he felt like his stomach was trying to leave his body through his freaking mouth. He felt a hand on his back after a moment, rubbing through the fabric of his suit in soothing, grounding motions over his clothed skin, and Dean held onto that feeling as he gripped the edges of the toilet, feeling the cold porcelain against the skin of his palms.

Finally, he felt like he could lean back without puking, though the room was still spinning a little. He sat down onto the cold tiles, panting a little as he felt his nausea fade just barely.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Dean swallowed, extremely self-conscious of the fact that Cas had just watched him throw up. He almost cringed at the thought, because that wasn’t gracious or sexy at all.

“Do not apologize for not feeling well,” Cas’s voice was strong, almost reprimanding, “What are you feeling?”

“Just nauseous,” Dean replied, opening his eyes to look at Cas in the eye, finding the angel watching him carefully, worry and concern clear in his features. He shook his head weakly, “It’s nothing, Cas, maybe last night’s dinner didn’t sit well or something.”

Cas seemed to consider that for a moment, eyeing Dean like he wasn’t completely convinced, like he knew Dean was lying. Dean just didn’t want him to worry, because he had been throwing up a lot lately, and the only thing Dean could find to blame for that was the Mark acting up, which definitely didn’t mean something good. The bond had been dulling the Mark a lot, and clearly the Mark wasn’t liking that little change, so it was lashing out somehow. At least that’s the only theory Dean had managed to come up with so far.

But Dean didn’t want to tell Cas the Mark was lashing out, even if the angel did know it was angry, since he could now feel a part of its influence through the bond. He didn’t want Cas to worry too much when there was no need to. Dean could handle this, he was sure of it.

Dean managed to duck just in time to avoid Cas’ fingers, which the angel had clearly intended to press against his forehead. “Cas, don’t,” Dean hurried to say, shaking his head a little more eagerly now. He wasn’t going to let Cas waste his Grace on him like that. “I’m fine, really.”

Cas held his gaze, hand still outstretched, almost like a flashback from that night outside the hospital back in Omaha, when Sam had been dying and they had been nothing more than very close friends. So much had changed since then, it was almost unbelievable.

The staring contest went on for almost a full minute until finally, Cas resented, just as he had done that night, lowering his hand and not looking even one ounce happy about doing it. But if it was indeed the Mark that was causing this, Cas probably couldn’t do much about it anyway, so why bother trying?

Dean swallowed a couple of times as he got back up to his feet, grimacing at the sour taste that lingered in his mouth. Cas hurried to grab his arm, helping him stand up, even if Dean really didn’t need it, but he let Cas do it nonetheless, if it would make the angel feel better. Dean flushed the toilet next and rinsed his mouth a few times in the sink, washing away the terrible taste of vomit in his tongue just barely, but at least enough that he didn’t feel the urge to throw up again.

“Breakfast is in the car,” Dean told Cas as he dried his mouth and chin off with a clean towel, “You want to eat here or while we watch the house?”

“We can eat in the car.” Cas sounded a little distant still, and Dean hated it that he knew Cas was worried about him, mostly because he had absolutely no way to ease the angel’s mind.

Dean nodded, and soon enough, they were both out in the car, Cas quietly drinking his coffee in the passenger seat while Dean drove through town over to Margaret’s house. He parked across from the house and a little farther up the road, but from a distance where they could still watch the house pretty easily.

And so, they waited.

Dean sipped on his coffee carefully, but chose not to eat for a while, waiting for his stomach to settle enough for it. Cas was halfway done with his coffee in no time, soon enough diving into the package of bagels, which he claimed to have never had before. Dean watched with a smile as the angel’s face lit up after taking the first bite, staring at the pastry he was holding like he had just discovered the best thing in the world. Dean chuckled at the sight, and couldn’t help but smile as the angel devoured bagel after bagel.

He just couldn’t help it; Cas looked pretty damn adorable eating bagels.

Eventually (and mostly because of Cas’ constant comments about how he had to eat something), Dean did pick one bagel up, eating it slowly, realizing that he could keep it down without puking or feeling nauseous. He only ate one more and left the rest for Cas to finish, even if the angel insisted he should eat more.

It was some time after one in the afternoon when a hot pink Porsche (with freaking purple LED underlights, for fuck's sake) turned on the street and parked in the driveway of Margaret’s house. Dean and Cas both stiffened at the sight, watching as two people got out of the car—a small lady with gray hair and…

“That’s the guy from the bar.” _Of course_ the guy had a fucking pink sports car. Seriously, Dean didn't even know why he had been so surprised to see it. Turning his head to the side, Dean exchanged a worried glance with Cas, who looked slightly alarmed to hear that, before looking back at the pair. The lady and the guy walked into the house a moment later, closing the door shut behind them.

“What do we do?” Cas asked, not taking his eyes off the house, “Do we go in or wait?”

“Wait,” Dean replied, “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. Maybe we should…”

The front door opened again, and Dean stopped talking. The guy stepped out of the house, but Margaret was nowhere in sight. The man walked over to the car, got inside of it and started the engine, driving off just a moment later.

“Let’s go,” Dean made up his mind, opening the car door, “We should talk to Margaret.” Maybe they were taking a risk here, and he knew that, but this was the only thing they had to work with here. Dean knew the guy wasn’t human, and maybe this old lady also wasn’t, but maybe she was and there was a whole different backstory here. They had too little pieces of a puzzle to work with in this case, and they had to find more. Talking to Margaret might help.

Cas nodded, probably following the same line of thought Dean just had, also getting out of the car and following Dean as the human crossed the street.

Dean knocked lightly onto the front door, and they both waited, tensely standing on the porch as they waited for Margaret to answer the door, which she eventually did.

Margaret looked just like a normal old lady. There was nothing off that immediately stood out about her, but Dean knew that meant nothing in this line of work. Usually, it meant quite the opposite.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Banes?” Dean smiled lightly at her, going straight into agent mode. At the woman’s light nod, he continued, “I’m special agent Rogers, and this is my partner, special agent Novak,” Dean gestured to Cas as they both held up their badges for the woman to see, “We’d like to talk to you about the attack on Mr. Freeman two nights ago.”

Margaret looked surprised, and maybe a little lost, her bright blue eyes wide as she stared at the two men before her. Finally, she nodded, “Yes, yes, of course. Would you like to come inside?”

“Yes, please,” Cas replied lowly.

Once inside, Dean and Cas were seated onto a light pink couch in the living room, while Margaret insisted she made all of them tea. So for a few minutes, they waited quietly, the house completely silent, except for the eventual sound coming from the kitchen, where Margaret would sometimes humming lowly to herself as she worked on the tea.

“So?” Dean whispered to Cas, eyeing the room around them. Apart from the oddly high number of plants around the room, the absurd amount of kitten paintings hanging on the walls and a clear overuse of the color pink in the decor (who was this woman, freaking Dolores Umbridge?), Dean couldn’t find anything weird or out of the ordinary in the place.

“I can feel something, but it’s only a trace,” Cas replied just as lowly, keeping the sound of his voice unheard to the woman in the adjacent room, “I assume it is a lingering mark from the man that was here earlier. I cannot feel anything coming from her. As far as I can tell, she is human.”

Well, wasn’t that awesome. Honestly, Dean wasn't even sure if he should be relieved the woman was human at this point.

Margaret was back in a few minutes with a small tray containing muffins and three mugs filled with steaming tea, setting it on the coffee table right before them. Dean eyed the contents of the tray wearily, unsure if it was safe to eat them, or if there might be something in them. Cas had said she was human, but you just never knew.

Cas exchanged a glance with Dean as he picked one muffin up, raising it to his mouth slowly. The angel bit down onto it, tasting it carefully and seeming to consider whatever he felt for a moment, before shaking his head subtly at Dean.

Nothing.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but ended up deciding that a muffin probably wouldn't make him nauseous and reached out to grab a small one from the tray. It was blueberry, and it actually tasted pretty good.

“So, Mrs. Banes,” Dean began after swallowing his bite of muffin, glad to realize he didn’t feel any urge to throw up, “What can you tell us about the night Mr. Freeman was attacked?”

Margaret glanced at him over her tea mug, taking a small sip of the hot beverage before setting it down onto the coffee table once more.

“I don’t really understand what happened that night, to be honest,” she explained, alternating between looking at both of them as she talked, as if she didn’t know which one of them she should talk to, “It was just… weird.”

“Weird how?” Cas asked, his eyes careful as he watched the woman.

Margaret shook her head lightly. “I heard Ronald screaming clearly, it actually woke me up.”

“You heard it all the way here?” Dean asked, watching the woman just as closely, even though he couldn’t tell as much as Cas could just by looking at someone.

There was a pause as Margaret seemed to consider her next words, which had Dean watching her even more closely, considering her every movement. “I heard it like he was screaming inside my room. Literally, inside my room, like he was there by my bed. But when I got out of bed, the sound was in the living room, and then outside, until it led me to the house across the street, like it was telling me to go there. The curtains in the living room were pulled back, and they never left it like that. So I looked through the window and saw it.” She was shaking her head now, her voice earning a struggled edge to it, “There was just so much blood…”

Dean swallowed, going over the story in his head. The woman sounded pretty freaked out, and somehow Dean had a feeling she wasn’t making this up. There was genuine emotion in her eyes as she spoke, as well as in her voice, and people usually couldn’t fake emotions that well. “So you called for help?”

Margaret nodded, but didn’t reply.

Cas picked up the mug slowly, taking a careful sip from the tea. Dean glanced briefly at him, meeting the angel’s eyes for a second, a question in his own eyes, to which Cas responded with another subtle shake of his head.

So the tea was safe too. Dean had never really liked tea, but he was kind of thirsty and the thing was right there. Besides, it was pretty cold, and the tea was warm. If Sam were here Dean would tell him he wouldn’t drink it because real men just don’t drink tea, but Sam wasn’t here, Cas was, so Dean could drink his tea and not be embarrassed by doing it. It wasn’t like he had to prove anything to Cas, anyway.

“We stopped by yesterday, but we were informed you were not home,” Cas commented, setting his mug back down.

Much to their surprise, Margaret frowned.

“No, I was home yesterday.”

“We came here, and no one answered the door,” Dean explained.

“Maybe I didn’t hear it. I’m sorry, my hearing is getting pretty bad with my age. I feel like it gets worse every day.”

“Mrs. Freeman told us you went to visit your family,” Cas offered, a frown forming on his brow as he considered the woman with even more attention than before, “We saw you return a few minutes ago with your nephew.”

Margaret was shaking her head, looking completely confused. “I don’t have a nephew. And I didn’t leave the house yesterday, or today. I was here.”

Okay, so maybe the woman wasn’t as innocent as they had thought, Dean decided. And she definitely didn’t know how to lie. Setting his mug back down, Dean was about to tell her that they had seen her and they knew something was up, but Cas was faster than him. The angel was suddenly up, towering over the woman, who was staring fearfully up at him.

“Cas, what are you—”

Cas’ hand lit up with Grace, and he pressed it to the woman’s forehead. Margaret’s eyes were wide, but unfocused, like she was suddenly thrown into some sort of trance. Dean felt a weird pull, a tingle he couldn’t explain running up and down his spine, and he suddenly realized he was feeling the strain on Cas’ Grace through the soul bond.

Dean could do nothing more than watch as the scene remained like that for close to a minute, before Cas pulled his hand back and Margaret tumbled to the side onto the couch cushions, unconscious.

“What was that?” Dean asked, standing up from the couch to stand beside the angel.

Cas was panting slightly, but he didn’t look pale or anything, so that was a plus. Still, Dean lifted his arms, ready to steady Cas if the angel needed any sort of physical support to stand.

“I looked into her mind,” Cas explained, “She was not lying.”

“What do you mean she wasn’t lying?” It just didn’t make sense. They had _seen_ her arrive not even half an hour ago. She had to be lying. “Cas, we saw her—”

“We did see her,” Cas turned to look at Dean, shaking his head, “But she doesn’t remember it. She truly believes she hasn’t left this house in three days.”

Dean paused, frowning as he tried to make sense of that. “Wait, are you saying…?”

Cas nodded lightly, apparently thinking the exact same thing Dean was, “Someone tampered with her memories.”

“Well, I have a pretty good idea who did it. And I’m guessing he was the one who made her hear the attack, too.”

“It does seem like it,” Cas agreed, “But why warn someone about the attack?”

Dean shook his head, letting out a heavy breath. “I don’t know.” Dean really felt like punching something, because the guy was _playing_ them now. He had probably seen them outside, too. He was mocking them, and that made Dean really fucking angry. “She was just a distraction to sidetrack us, nothing more.”

Cas nodded again, but before he could say anything, Dean’s phone rang.

Dean looked down at the screen, finding an unknown number staring up at him from the device. Frowning lightly, Dean raised the phone up to his ear, not sure what to expect to hear on the other side.

“Agent Rogers speaking,” he said, since he had given his number to a few people in this town, and he couldn’t afford to blow his cover.

_“Agent? This is sheriff Parker.”_

“Oh, hey, sheriff,” Dean greeted, “Any news?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and suddenly Dean felt his body tense up in expectation. Something had happened, he knew it instantly.

_“Well, agent, I’m pretty sure you and your partner should come down to the hospital right now.”_

Dean frowned, but wasn't exactly surprised. He had a very bad feeling about this already. Glancing over at Cas, Dean noticed the angel was watching him with concern written all over his face, his eyes attentive and curious. “Why?”

_“You’re only gonna believe it when you see it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fun fact: that second round of sexy times in this chapter wasn't planned. I started editing this a few days ago without it, and suddenly I was writing a new scene and Dean and Cas were on the bed doing their thing, and who was I to stop them? XP
> 
> So, the next chapter is a pretty big one, filled with surprises. Well, at least Dean and Cas will be *very* surprised... ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys are awesome. Thank you all for every single comment, kudos, subscription and bookmark. Your support means the world to me.<3
> 
> Okay, I'm pretty excited about this chapter, and a little nervous too. Weirdly enough it was one of the easiest chapters to write. Seriously, I was so excited about writing it that most of it came out in just one sitting. Editing it took a good while, though, but _finally_ I'm happy with it. Hopefully you guys will like it as much as I do. :)
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains spoilers from the episode 10x12, "About a Boy".

“This guy is playing with us, Cas.”

Dean was fuming as he and Cas walked out of the hospital after talking to the sheriff, feeling like he could throw a punch at the first one who looked at him the wrong way. He had started pacing on the narrow sidewalk by the main entrance as soon as they were out of the double doors before he could do something he would most likely regret later in a feeble attempt to burn off some of the anger cursing through his veins, pulsating in time with the angry throbbing of the Mark on his arm.

There had been another incident, but this one hadn’t been an animal attack, not even close to it.

As soon as they’d gotten to the hospital, the sheriff had led them to the ICU, showing them a man in his mid-thirties, Thomas Wright, who had clearly been the victim of a car accident, or at least had been run over by one. They had soon found out that the second one turned out to be true, although the problem that had everyone frowning and completely confused about what had really happened was the fact that the poor guy had been _run over_ by a car _in his own back yard_.

According to the people who had already been to the scene, there was no sign of an accident, of a car going into the back yard in any way. The fences around the back of the house were completely intact. There was no way a car could have gotten in and out without leaving a trace like that, considering the narrow corridors between the house and the fence could not, in any way, fit a car, plus the small gates that led to the back yard by the side of the house were also untouched and in perfect condition. Also, there were marks from the tires for only a few meters in the dirt, like a car had simply materialized inside the fence, hit the guy and just vanished in the thin air when its job was done.

The only thing they had found in the place besides the bloody, broken form of the guy that was now fighting for his life in the ICU was a freaking toy car that apparently belonged to the man's seven-year-old son, which the police had clearly judged as nothing but a terrible, oddly ironic coincidence, but that Dean and Cas both knew just had to mean something, considering it followed the pattern of the other incident—a toy that represented the cause of the accident present in the scene.

Whoever was doing this had a sick, twisted sense of humor; that was for sure.

“He’s mocking us, Cas,” Dean shook his head, still pacing around, running a hand over his stubble, “He’s mocking us and laughing at us.”

“Dean,” Cas exhaled, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder and making him stop and spin around to face the angel, “You have to calm down.”

Dean swallowed, staring down at Cas’ pleading eyes. He could feel the Mark burning on his arm, taking advantage of his anger and fueling on it for the first time in days, urging Dean to get _angrier_ , to lash out and let the Mark feed on the feeling, to let every ounce of anger there was in him wash over his insides and give the Mark something to work with, something to feast on. Cas glanced down at Dean’s forearm briefly, and Dean instantly knew Cas could feel it too.

Damn it.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s voice broke, because for a moment he had forgotten the Mark was affecting Cas too. He hated it that Cas had to put up with this now, that he was poisoning Cas this way, but there was nothing he could do about it. The soul bond would remain for the time being, until they could find a way to break it that wouldn’t kill them both, although Dean was still not on board with the idea of breaking something that was pretty much giving Cas more time to fix his Grace issue. Either way, Dean would have to do everything in his power to control himself and keep the Mark under control as much as he could for now. The Mark wasn’t just trying to kill him now, it was trying to kill Cas too, and Dean would make sure that never happened.

“Just breathe,” Cas’ voice was calm and soothing, grounding even, and Dean focused on the sound of it, breathing in and out slowly. He felt the tendrils of the Mark retracting, as if extracting themselves from his thoughts slowly. The Mark grumbled to itself, annoyed and filled with hatred, but it had no other choice but to quiet down for now.

Dean suddenly felt much clear headed than before, and it was a shock to him to realize just how easily the Mark had taken over, or how he hadn't even noticed it until then. He wanted to believe it had been solely his fault, for losing his cool so easily, for all but giving into his anger without a fight, but deep down he knew that wasn’t all. Cas had used some of his Grace to get into Margaret’s head, and even more to wipe out the memories from their conversation with her after the sheriff called so she wouldn't remember they had been there at all, not after Cas pretty much pounced on her and made her pass out on the couch, and Dean had been able to feel the change through the bond, feel the strain that had put on Cas’ Grace, and the Mark had obviously taken advantage of that, just like it did every damn chance it got.

“Let’s go.” Dean let out a heavy breath, trying to ignore the bitter taste those thoughts seemed to leave in his mouth. “We should go see the scene.”

Cas nodded, his gaze heavy as he stared at Dean, like he knew exactly what the hunter was thinking and wanted to say something about it, but maybe he wasn’t sure how to say it, or he knew it wouldn’t change anything anyway. Dean was happy he didn’t.

The scene was exactly what they had expected it to be—filled with police men and nothing but bloody grass and tire marks on the mud that told them the car that had made them couldn’t have possibly driven through the fence to get there. It really did seem like it had just appeared out of the thin air and then vanished without a trace once it had hit the man.

“You feel anything?” Dean asked as they examined the tire marks, glancing over at the angel as Cas surveyed the yard with careful eyes, going over every single detail around them as he apparently looked for anything out of the ordinary, any clue that might not be obvious to anyone who didn’t know what to look for. Dean could feel a little tingle again, and he instantly knew that Cas was also looking for something that his Grace might be able to point out. The fact that Dean was even able to feel that made the stone of worry sitting in his stomach all the more heavy, because he hadn't been able to before this morning and that could only mean that this was tiring Cas a lot more than it had yesterday when the angel had searched the Freemans' house.

He sent those thoughts away as soon as they came.

Dean looked around briefly as he waited for an answer, making sure no one was close enough to hear them talking, and was glad to notice that the closest team of officers was at least a good twenty feet away from them discussing something by the yard fence, probably still trying to figure out how the hell this had even happened in the first place and clearly making no progress with it.

“I can feel the same energy from the other attack and from Margaret’s house,” the angel announced, “Everything is linked back to the same culprit.”

Dean nodded, because he had already imagined that would be the case. And not only that, but everything pointed toward that one guy he had met at the bar and they had seen leaving Margaret’s house that same morning. He had to be the one behind all of this, but they weren’t even close to figuring out who and what he was exactly, just as they had no idea how to find him again. The guy just seemed to appear and disappear without a pattern, without leaving any trace for them to follow, which made him all the more unpredictable. And that was extremely inconvenient for them.

They had asked the sheriff to run the license plate of the pink car from earlier to find out who owned it, and hopefully that would shed some light on the guy somehow. Dean could only hope that would give them a lead somehow as they waited for the answer.

Cas gave the same diagnosis he had given the stuffed cat to the toy car—the toy had been changed by some sort of very strong power, and some residual energy from whatever had been done to it and that Cas claimed as familiar to him somehow still lingered in the object, but the toys themselves were nothing but mere objects. There was nothing dangerous about them now, so there was no problem in leaving the toy car where they had found it, having been abandoned by the porch of the house by someone who had been to the scene before them. The man had a small son, and the toy was probably his, so no one had thought much of it and just left it there.

They couldn’t find anything on the guy who was attacked. There was no dirt on him, just as they hadn’t found a single thing on the Freeman guy either. There was no connection between the two victims as well, apart from them both being married men in their thirties with a young child, but that might be a coincidence, or maybe it wasn’t and they were overlooking something. Or maybe the guy was picking his victims at random, with no pattern whatsoever, or at least without one Dean and Cas could see clearly. The choice of attacking them through toys was basically the only clue they had on this, and that itself didn’t say much. Dean had never worked a case like this.

What also didn’t make sense was that he was leaving their victims alive, as well as warning about the attacks right after they happened. This guy had had the Margaret woman hear Ron screaming from inside her room, and with this last one, the neighbor from the right side of the house had heard a car’s engine going crazy and a lot of honking, so he had looked over the fence and then called for help when he saw Thomas lying on a pool of his own blood on the grass.

What was this guy’s game?

They stayed at the crime scene for a few hours, just asking around, interviewing the guy’s wife, who also hadn’t been home when the attack had happened, just like Linda, so they didn’t find anything helpful there. The neighbor also didn’t have much helpful input other than what he’d heard and seen when he’d found Thomas, which really wasn’t much either. No one had anything useful to share on the victim or on what had actually happened to him, and while the guy was still unconscious, they wouldn’t get a good story on the attack other than the theories everyone had, which honestly weren’t helpful at all. They had no idea what this guy’s motives were, what he was trying to do here, why he was picking these guys, why the kids' toys. Nothing added up here, and it had been a while since Dean had worked a case like this before, one that made him feel so freaking frustrated.

The sheriff had called them at some point with the update that there was no car registered with that license plate in the entire freaking country, so that was also not helpful at all.

Dean and Cas were both considering just leaving the scene and going back to the motel for the day, because they both doubted they would be able to find anything else in this place, when Cas frowned without a warning, his eyes snapping toward the side of the yard, where a few bushes were spread out close to the fence.

“Cas?” Dean asked, giving Cas a curious look at the sudden change in the angel’s posture. Cas’ back was suddenly stiff, his body tense, and Dean instantly knew he had sensed something. “What is it?” Dean’s own muscles had gone rigid, expecting to get jumped at any second now. He scanned their surroundings with his eyes, trying to find anything or anyone out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t find anything relevant.

Cas didn’t respond. His eyes were focused on the fence, gaze unwavering as he strode toward the side of the yard, his steps confident and face filled with a sudden determination that had Dean feeling slightly uneasy.

“There’s something here,” the angel announced as he reached the bushes, kneeling down before them and sticking his hand into the leaves, pushing a few of them and its branches out of the way. He paused his hands suddenly, his entire body stiffening even more as he picked up something and looked down at it, and Dean immediately knew Cas had found whatever it was that he had sensed over here. His first guess was a hex bag, because their best bet in this case was still a witch, and maybe they had missed the hex bag in the first scene somehow.

“What is it?” Dean still asked, trying to get a good view on whatever Cas had found, but not being able to, not with all those leaves in the way.

Cas leaned back slightly, showing Dean what he was looking at. Frowning, Dean picked it up from the angel’s hand, confused when he realized it was a small piece of paper. There were a few words written down on it in a neat calligraphy.

**_What a nice little cabin you two lovebirds found in the woods. I might come over for dinner tonight. I hear you’re a hell of a cooker, Dean._ **

Dean swallowed drily, his whole body growing tense as he read the note a couple of times, willing the words to really sink in.

They were being called out here. The guy knew they were after him, knew where they had been staying, knew that they were together, knew his freaking name and was giving them a warning that he would be there tonight, to show them he knew they were after him and that he wasn’t scared of them. Had he been watching them, too? What had he seen? Had he…?

This wasn’t good. This was the _exact opposite_ of good.

And if the guy knew all those things, maybe he knew more. Did he know Cas was an angel? Did he know Cas wasn’t at full power? Did he know who they were? Or did he just think they were two random hunters and wanted to show them he wasn’t scared? And how did he know all those things, anyway? How long had that thing been watching them to find out all of that? What _exactly_ had he seen?

Dean suddenly felt sick in his stomach again, and he quickly walked away from Cas and everyone else in the yard, feeling the nausea getting stronger with each step he took. He walked up to the house, which had also been closed for the investigation, even though the guy had almost died outside. But as no one had any idea what exactly had happened, the entire perimeter of the house had been closed with yellow police tape to keep out the curious people hanging around trying to see something, and anyone working on the case could come and go inside the house as they pleased to investigate if they thought it necessary.

Taking advantage of that, Dean stepped into the house through the backdoor, glad to not meet anyone while he walked through the kitchen and into the hallway that led to the living room, happy to find a bathroom by the stairs. He closed the door shut behind himself and bent his body forward over the toilet, emptying his stomach into it. He knew this was a terrible thing to do and he could only hope no one found him in there, but it was either this or puking all over the crime scene back there, and that was something he’d really like to avoid doing.

Well, there went his breakfast.

Dean heard the door opening and closing after less than a minute, followed by the sound of the lock being turned. The soul bond flared a little, and he instantly knew exactly who was in there with him, so he didn’t panic or move from his spot by the toilet. He felt a pair of familiar hands on him a moment later, rubbing his shoulders and massaging his back, probably trying to calm him down and make him feel better. It worked a little. Cas’ presence was grounding and soothing, it always had been, but somehow it was even more now. Dean was guessing the bond might be responsible for it in some degree, but it was the truth either way.

“Sorry,” Dean panted, straightening up his body, happy to realize he hadn’t gotten any vomit on his clothes, “I really have no idea what’s wrong with me today.”

“It’s okay,” Cas didn’t sound grossed out or bothered at all, something Dean was pretty glad for. Cas sounded gentle and calm, but also clearly worried. Fortunately, he didn’t try to heal Dean again, for which the hunter was extremely grateful. He didn’t feel like arguing with Cas about it right now. “Are you feeling better?”

“Now I am,” Dean answered truthfully, happy (and confused, honestly) to notice that the nausea had gone away as fast as it had appeared. He was getting tired of this, really, but he couldn’t think of a way to stop it, because he had no idea what was bringing this on. He was never the one to get sick easily, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d caught as much as a cold, much less gotten sick enough to puke like this. This wasn’t normal at all, and he really had no idea if the Mark was really the one doing it or not. But this wasn’t the time to think about it. They had much more important matters to be dealing with right now, like the freaking unidentified creature they were trying to hunt in this town, who had apparently been watching them and had left them a freaking message. “So, he knows we’re after him, apparently.”

Cas nodded lightly, his eyes still focused on Dean’s face with attention, as if still considering the hunter’s well-being, probably trying to decide whether or not he should allow the focus of the conversation to diverge from Dean's apparent sickness. Finally, he looked down, apparently convinced that Dean wasn’t going to just tumble over or something and finally accepting the change of subject. “Yes, he does.” Cas put his hand in his suit pocket, a clear shift in his eyes that had Dean frowning in confusion. “There was something else in the bush, though.”

Well, this definitely wouldn’t be good.

Swallowing drily, Dean asked, “What is it?”

Cas still hesitated, like he feared what Dean’s reaction would be, probably replaying what had just happened in his head a few times until he decided he should really show Dean whatever he had found. Slowly, the angel held up his hand, which was closed in a fist around something.

And when the angel opened his hand and allowed Dean to see what he had found, the human felt like the air had been punched right out of his lungs, because suddenly it all made fucking _sense_. How the hell hadn’t he thought about this before? How had he not considered it? The way the victims had no connection, the ridiculousness of the murder toys, the power that guy seemed to have, the lack of hex bags; all of it suddenly made sense in Dean’s head, all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fitting together perfectly in his head.

Because Cas was holding candy wrappers. A handful of them.

A trickster. A fucking _trickster_.

“Son of a bitch.”

***~*~*~*~***

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Sam chuckled drily, the sound coming out a mixture of a scoff and a snort, because that definitely wasn’t the way he’d put the day he’d just had.

He was exhausted. His entire body ached, his muscles complaining vehemently with every step he took. His movements were sluggish now that the adrenaline had stopped cursing through his veins, leaving the usual tiredness that always followed a hunt in his body. He glanced longingly at his bed, but resisted the urge to just let himself fall onto it, because he knew that if he did that, he wouldn’t get up from it any time soon, and he really needed a shower, and it would probably do him good to eat something, too.

He was just glad the case was over, to be honest. He felt like this day had gone on forever, and it had barely even gotten dark outside.

Everything had been going according to plan at first, no problems whatsoever. He had no idea how everything had gone to hell so fast.

They had driven into town very early in the morning, just after the sun had made its first appearance in the horizon. They had quickly booked a motel room and gone to the bar where the man, JP, had supposedly disappeared two nights ago, intending to question the people they found there about the matter, and maybe even talk to the witness who had claimed to have seen JP simply vanish in the thin air.

They hadn’t gotten too much from the few people they'd found at the bar at such an early hour. All they’d learned was that JP was apparently a terrible person and hated by over half of the small town’s population, and that he had a pretty bad reputation that he very easily lived up to. In fact, he had gotten in a fight the night he’d disappeared, having been kicked out of that same bar by the owner after trying to steal the tips left by customers.

Talking to the guy who had supposedly seen JP disappear in a flash of white light hadn’t been any more helpful. All they got from him was that he hadn’t smelled sulfur or felt any cold spots when he’d found the pile of rumpled clothing and shoes after JP had disappeared, and that he’d smelled what he’d described at ‘flowery flowers’. Also, he was set on the fact JP had been abducted by aliens, which had led to Charlie asking Sam about it afterwards.

 _“Are aliens even a thing?”_ Charlie had asked as they stood outside the bar.

Sam shook his head, chuckling, _“I don’t know. Never came across them, at least. I mean, you probably know about the case with the Trickster a few years back.”_

Charlie chuckled. _“With the slow dancing and the probing? Yeah, that one was hilarious.”_

Sam decided not to comment, although could not fight the small amused smile that had taken over his lips at the memory. _“A few years after that there was this case that looked like aliens, but it just turned out to be fairies. Dean even got abducted by them.”_

Charlie had laughed out loud at that, _“Really? Man, I gotta hear **that** story later.”_

That had been the end of the conversation for the time being, after which they had a brief discussion on their options before Sam had left to check out JP’s house to see if he would find something there, while Charlie had stuck around at the bar to ask around some more and see if she could fish anything else out of anyone, since they were pretty much leadless on the hunt. All they had to go with was the fact that it looked to be either fairies or angels, but even those were just guesses, and it might be something else entirely.

What Sam had not expected to happen was to _not_ find Charlie at the bar when he came back from JP’s. She hadn’t been answering her phone, and he had gotten a little worried, but he had gone into full panic mode when he found Charlie’s clothes outside the bar, along with her phone.

Charlie had been taken.

He had been frantic for about two hours, completely lost on what to do or how he would find Charlie, when someone had knocked on his motel room while he'd been lost in his research, and he had been greeted by an eleven version of Charlie, looking beyond annoyed, but clearly relieved to find him there.

She was actually pretty adorable, if Sam was honest. He knew she would punch him if he said anything about it out loud, though, so he'd found it wiser to just keep his mouth shut.

Soon enough they had beed on their way to the old buildings a few miles west and out of town, where Charlie had gotten away from just a few hours earlier, having managed to squeeze herself out of a window to escape her cell, which had apparently been located in the basement of an old abandoned house outside of town.

Charlie had crawled back inside through the same window she had used to escape to try and find Tina, the girl that had been locked in the cell adjacent to the redhead's, while Sam had gone around the perimeter of the house to look for another entrance, one that he could actually fit through. But then Sam had been caught breaking into the house by none other than Hansel himself. Yes, Hansel from freaking Hansel and Gretel. Yeah.

Hansel had promised to help them, saying he was tired of working for the witch and hated her for making him eat his sister, but then he'd screwed them over, of course, so somehow Charlie and Sam had ended up kneeling in the kitchen, their hands tied together behind them with Hansel pointing a gun down at them, Tina tied to a chair by the corner and the witch responsible for everything complaining about how hard it was to eat kids these days while she worked on whatever it was she was cooking, which Sam had done his best not to think about, especially considering that had been no sign of JP in the basement and he hadn't been anywhere up there in the kitchen either.

The witch had mentioned Rowena at some point, but Sam wasn’t sure if knowing the other witch was a good thing or not, it might as well get them killed faster, and he had to buy more time, so he'd decided against commenting on knowing who she was.

Charlie had saved them, really. She had started probing for information, questioning the witch’s methods and somehow had convinced the old witch that the logistics of her plan was just too bad, that she could probably increase her captures of children by fifty percent if she worked it out right. She even started going on about how she could use other ways to lure people and how her efficiency could be doubled with more people working for her, maybe even work out something online, and the woman had fallen for it, looking almost amazed by the redhead’s words, hanging onto every single syllable like it might hold the answers to all the secrets of the universe.

Sam had managed to break free from the ropes by then and had jumped Hansel, who'd dropped the hex bag that could turn Charlie back to normal. Charlie had grabbed the thing and squeezed it, and then she had been back to herself and had jumped on the witch. By that time, Sam had managed to stab Hansel and ran up to help her, and somehow they’d maneuvered the witch enough that they'd managed to toss her into the flames of her furnace.

The hex bag had gone with her, though, burned to a crisp, so there was no way to turn Tina back.

“You think Tina will be okay?” Charlie asked, as if reading Sam’s thoughts.

He sighed, shrugging weakly. “I hope so,” he replied truthfully, “She didn’t seem to mind the change, and she really did sound unhappy about her life. Maybe it really was a good thing that the bag got burned before we could reverse the spell.” It really did seem like a second chance, Sam understood that, and if Tina had been okay with it, then maybe they could consider this case a success. She would have a chance to start her life all over again, and honestly, who wouldn’t want something like that?

Well, Sam didn’t, but most people might.

“True,” Charlie let herself fall onto the bed, closing her eyes, “I’ll never see Gretel and Hansel the same way, though. That was sort of traumatizing.”

Sam actually chuckled at that. Gretel and Hansel was definitely ruined for him too, but that wasn’t the first time something like that happened. He briefly wondered if he should tell her that or if that would only make it worse, but soon decided against it.

“So,” Charlie sat back up on the bed after a minute of silence, smiling at Sam, “Dean was really abducted by fairies?”

Sam smiled, and then proceeded to tell her the story that was certainly on the list of their weirdest hunts. Some details were hazy from his memories, though, considering he had been soulless at the time, but he remembered most of the important parts, and he definitely remembered Dean’s retelling of how he had been attacked by a ‘naked little lady with boobs and wings’ and had microwaved her in their motel room. There was just no way he could ever forget that.

Charlie laughed for minutes at that part.

Somehow the conversatin shifted into Sam telling Charlie about weird and funny hunts when the story was done, and Sam was more than happy to tell her, laughing along with her most of the time. For the first time in ages, he felt light, almost carefree and relaxed.

He had been in the middle of telling Charlie about the time Dean had actually turned part dog to talk to a German Sheppard called Colonel, because the dog had been the only witness to the two freaky deaths they had been looking into, but the Colonel hadn't had a good ciew of the second murder, so they had ended up having to talk to all the dogs in the animal shelter, which had ended with Dean checking out a freaking poodle and then soon after _freeing_ all the dogs in there, when his phone rang.

It was Dean.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam greeted, noticing how Charlie perked up at the sound of his brother’s name.

 _“Heya, Sammy,”_  his brother greeted him, and Sam could instantly tell this was no ordinary call to just check in on him. There was something up, an edge to Dean’s words that might be imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know his brother very well, but that sounded obvious in Sam’s ears. There was something wrong. _“You still working the case with Charlie?”_

“No, we just finished it. Just a witch snatching people and turning them into kids to eat them.”

 _“Freaking witches, man, they’re just sick.”_ Sam couldn’t disagree with him on that one.  _“So, you two going back to the Bunker now?”_

“Probably tomorrow,” After they had a few hours of sleep, at least, “Are you and Cas going back any time soon?”

There was a pause, which only added to Sam’s assumption that there was something Dean wanted to talk to him about, but that his brother had been avoiding for almost a minute into the conversation. _“Actually, no, there was a little… issue with our plan of leaving soon.”_

Sam frowned. He already didn’t like where this conversation was going. “What kind of issue?”

_“Well, let’s just say that we kind of stumbled upon a hunt in this town.”_

“A hunt?” Sam heard his voice rising, but didn’t bother to stop it. What the hell was Dean thinking? A hunt? With the Mark of Cain still on Dean’s arm, Cas’ Grace burning away and this soul bond Sam still didn’t understand, the last thing Dean and Cas should be doing right now was working a job. “Dean, you two can’t be working a job right now, you know that!”

Sam heard Dean sigh on the other hand, although the sigh had almost been expected. _“Sammy, I know what you’re going to say, alright? That we’re in no condition for that, that’s it’s a stupid idea—”_

“That’s because it is a stupid idea, Dean!” How could Dean not see that? “And from what you’ve told me, if something happens to either you or Cas, the other one dies! Is that really a risk you’re willing to take?”

_“I know it’s risky, Sammy, but what the hell are we supposed to do? Just let these people die?”_

Sam closed his mouth shut, pinching the space between his brows as he tried to level his breathing, to keep his mind calm and thoughts coherent, which was pretty hard with the surge of worry and disbelief that was running through him right now.

No, he didn’t think that was right either. Walking out from a hunt was far from the right option, and he knew his brother would never do that, just like Sam himself could never imagine himself doing it, but that didn’t mean Dean should risk his life and Cas’ like he would be doing in this case. They weren’t at 100%, and they were _linked_. If one of them died, so would the other, and maybe this bond had other consequences he didn’t know about, because Dean still refused to tell him everything over the phone. And whatever those were, Sam knew without a doubt that they only made this hunt a lot more risky than it already was. Didn’t they think that their connection should be enough of a reason not to take risks?

“Then let Charlie and I go with you. You said you were in Montana, right? We can be there in two, three days tops, Dean.” It would be a little bit of a race, but Sam knew they could make it if he and Charlie took turns at driving and stepped down on the gas a little. Maybe they could fly there, it would be faster.

_“We’re going after the bastard tonight, Sammy, that’s not going to work.”_

“Dean—”

 _“We know what we’re doing, Sam.”_ Dean’s tone suddenly changed into a much calmer one, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was either too confident or was faking it for Sam’s sake. _“We’ll be fine.”_

Sam wasn’t convinced. In fact, he was the complete opposite of that, but deep down he knew arguing would not change a thing. Dean wouldn’t wait, he knew his brother well enough that there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about that fact, and there was no way he and Charlie would make it to that town in time.

Letting out a strained sigh, Sam closed his eyes, thinking everything through, but there was no angle through which he could look at this that made him calmer. “Do you even know what you’re dealing with?” He decided the rational approach would be best. Maybe if he knew exactly what the hunt was about, his mind could be somewhat soothed. At least that was what he was hoping for; he had no idea if that would really work.

_“Yeah, it’s a trickster. You know, annoying sons of bitches who think fucking with people is hilarious?”_

Alright, his mind wasn’t soothed at all. “A trickster? Are you sure?”

_“Yeah, trust me, Sam, I’m sure. Guy’s got the whole package going on here. Weird, freaky attacks, though with no fatal victims so far, which still doesn’t really make sense. But there were candy wrappers at the scene.”_

This wasn’t good; this was in fact the opposite of good.

“And do you know who it is?”

_“Yeah, a douche who turned my drink into yogurt at a bar the other day.”_

Sam couldn’t help it, he actually chuckled at that, as well as we the offended tone he could hear so clearly in Dean’s voice. Of course, his amusement faded as soon as another thought occurred to him. “So he knows who _you_ are?” If that were the case, it would take away the element of surprise, and that could really complicate things.

_“Yeah, he does. He left us a note and everything. That’s how we know where he’ll be tonight.”_

The single sound of those words had a feeling of uneasiness settling in Sam's gut. “And what are you two planning on doing?”

_“We’ll go there and gank the son of a bitch.”_

This sounded like a very, very bad idea. Sam shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, letting out a heavy breath. If the guy sounded so confident, if he was being bold enough to leave them a note telling him where he would be tonight, maybe he could take them. Of course, they didn’t have much to compare to in the trickster department. The only trickster they had ever dealt with hadn’t even been a real trickster. Gabriel had been an archangel, so he had been a lot stronger than an actual trickster should be, Cas had said that himself. But just how weaker than Gabriel was an actual trickster?

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Dean? This sounds like a trap to me.” And it seemed Dean and Cas were planning on walking right into it.

 _“You have a better one?”_ Sam opened his mouth to reply, only to close it as he realized that no, in fact, he didn’t have a better idea, or at least he couldn’t think of one right now that didn’t include Dean and Cas waiting for him and Charlie. _“See? I mean, the guy is pretty much mocking us here, Sammy. And he probably has no idea what he’s playing with. He probably thinks we’re just two normal hunters.”_

Well, Dean did have a point there. Maybe the trickster didn’t know about Dean bearing the Mark of Cain and Cas being an angel. He probably thought they’d be two humans whom he would be able to kill easily.

Or maybe he did know and knew he could take them anyway. And that scenario in particular was pretty scary.

 _“Sammy, I can hear you worrying all the way here,”_ Dean’s tone was surprisingly light, considering the subject of their current conversation, _“We’ll be fine, don’t worry. This thing is not an archangel. We’ll do just fine, okay?”_

Sam exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose once more, already feeling a pretty strong headache coming on, which was really no surprise, with the day's he'd just had, plus this conversation right here. He didn’t know how Dean could sound so confident about this, because he definitely wasn’t feeling the same way, not even close to it. He was worried for his brother, and maybe he was exaggerating just a little bit, but he was pretty sure he was entitled to, with everything that had been going on lately.

“Alright,” Sam let out yet another heavy breath, this one a lot more resigned as he realized that he had no other choice but to give in and let Dean have his way. It wasn’t like disagreeing with Dean would change anything. “Call me when it’s over, okay? And please, Dean, be careful, you and Cas both.”

He could almost hear Dean’s smile as he answered, _“Sure thing, Sammy.”_

The line went dead.

And just like that, all the worry that had seemed to have vanished from Sam’s body with his own hunt and the light conversation with Charlie was back all at once, returning with full force and pretty much knocking all the air out of his lungs. He had been distracted enough with the witch hunt that he hadn’t even thought about Dean and Cas’ situation, and then his mind had been taken off of his problems for a little longer by the little trip down memory lane with Charlie, but now he was back to where he had been back at the Bunker, worrying and just wishing there was _something_ he could do to solve it all.

“Sam.”

He looked up at the sound, startled, only to find Charlie staring at him with warm, worried eyes. From the look she was giving him, it was obvious she had been able to deduce exactly what was going on with the half of the conversation she had heard, just as she must have been able to tell what was going through his head just by looked at his face. He wasn't trying to hide it, anyway.

“Am I going a little overboard with this?” He wasn’t sure anymore, but it seemed that everyone around him was trying to tell him that, even if he couldn’t see it for himself, that maybe he should step on the breaks a little, even though his worry wasn't exactly something he could just turn off at will.

Much to his surprise, Charlie shook her head in a negative response. “You’re worried about your brother, Sam, and that’s normal, that's what you guys do. You wouldn’t be the Winchesters if you didn’t.”

The corner of his lips rose just barely in a weak smile, though he didn’t comment. He could easily sense the ‘but’ following, so it wasn’t a surprise when it came only a moment later.

“But I don’t think you give Dean enough credit, or Cas, in this case.”

“They’re in no condition to hunt, Charlie.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded tired, spent after trying to make that point so many times, but his words just seemed to be falling on deaf ears lately.

“And do you really think Dean and Cas would let each other go through with this if they didn’t think they could handle it? I mean, you and Dean don’t really know much about dealing with actual tricksters, but Cas surely knows. Isn't he like, a billion years old or something?” The chuckle that followed didn't sound as amused as Charlie probably meant it to, instead coming out as a dry, almost forced sound.

Sam swallowed, looking down. Charlie did have a point, but the whole situation still didn’t sit right with him. There was just something about it that made him feel uneasy, a bad feeling that for some reason didn’t go away.

But then again, he and Dean had hunted in worst conditions over the years. Sam had even worked several jobs after he’d started completing the Trials to close the Gates of Hell, even if Dean didn’t want him to, and he definitely hadn’t been stronger than a normal human back then like Dean was now, thanks to the Mark of Cain. Also, Cas was with Dean right now, and even if the angel wasn’t at full power, he was definitely stronger than both of them, even in his current state.

Those were facts, Sam knew that, and he held tightly onto them, but even that was not enough to settle his worried thoughts.

Still, he doubted Charlie would agree with him, and honestly, he was tired of having the same conversation over and over again.

“You’re right,” Sam sighed, running a hand over his face, now feeling even more tired than he had before, “And it’s not like I can stop them, anyway. If they’re set on going through this hunt tonight, there’s really nothing I can do.”

Charlie didn’t look convinced by his answer, but she didn’t comment, didn’t insist on the subject anymore, and for that, Sam was extremely glad.

Sam left the room to get them something to eat after that, because they had both gone without eating all day, and even if neither of them were really hungry, it wouldn’t be healthy for them to just not eat anything right now. So while Charlie took a shower, Sam went to get them takeout.

When he was back with some tacos, they ate in silence, the easiness and lightness from before now completely gone. The air in the room was tense even after Sam took a shower himself and they both lied down in the respective bed to sleep.

Sam’s thoughts were still filled with worry, but his body was too worn out to keep him up, and soon enough he was slipping into a dreamless sleep that would most likely bring him no rest at all.

***~*~*~*~***

“You ready to do this?” Dean asked for the tenth time in the last hour, turning to glance at Cas, who had just finished checking that they had everything they would need for the hunt in the Impala's trunk and was ready to get into the car so they could begin the ride up the mountain to the cabin. He had tried to put up a strong front while talking to Sam on the phone, which hadn’t been all that hard considering he hadn’t expected a different reaction from Sam concerning him and Cas hunting right now, but he didn’t exactly feel all the confidence he'd tried to let on.

The angel looked up at Dean, before nodding lightly. “Yes.”

Dean still wasn’t convinced, so he rounded the car slowly, walking over to where Cas was standing, watching him with attention, looking for even the slightest, smallest hint of uncertainty in those blue eyes. “You sure?” he asked, lowering his voice a little. He had to know. Dean could feel Cas’ Grace now, just as he had clearly felt the toll reading the woman’s mind this morning had taken on his already very much limited (and quickly decreasing) power, and he feared for Cas’ safety during this hunt, for his life, even. Cas wouldn’t admit to being too weak to do this, and that worried Dean, because he knew just how easily things could go wrong because of that. He had been doing that himself for months now because of the Mark, putting up a strong front so Sam and Cas wouldn’t worry about him more than they already were. He didn’t want Cas to get hurt, and his life was on the line here as well, so they had to be honest with each other about this stuff.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas insisted, his voice unwavering, no hint of hesitation whatsoever, nothing but confidence and certainty bleeding into his voice, “You would be able to feel it otherwise.”

Dean knew that maybe Cas had a point here, that if he was weak enough for it to be dangerous to the angel’s life, then the hunter would feel it, the bond would certainly warn him about it, just as he had felt it when Cas had been dying with that fever, or when he had been hurt by those demons, or when he had tried to cast the spell to break the soul bond that had ended up almost killing both of them. But that wasn’t enough to send his worries away. Cas still wasn’t at full power, and Dean would worry about him until that changed, and even after that. 

“Dean,” Cas rested his hand on the hunter’s face, bringing the human’s face up just barely to catch the angel’s eyes, “You worry too much. I’ll be fine. We both will.”

Dean wanted to believe him, he really did, but he just couldn’t get the worried voice in the back of his head to quiet down, the heavy rock sitting at the bottom of his stomach to wither away. It was never like that with him. No one around him was ever fine, he had learned that by now. Still, he nodded numbly, because he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with Cas right now, mostly because he knew he wouldn’t get a different answer if he said anything. Slowly, he lifted his hand to rest it over Cas’ on his face, lacing their fingers together and letting out a shaky breath.

Dipping his head down, Dean placed a gentle kiss to Cas’ lips, just because he could now, resting his forehead against the angel’s for close to a minute until he finally felt steady enough on his feet to pull away. Cas’ presence was grounding, much more than he had ever thought it could be, and he had a feeling maybe the wave of calmness that had suddenly flooded his being was coming from the bond; that Cas was the one doing it, and he felt thankful for it.

“Okay,” Dean breathed out, straightening himself up a little, “Let’s go.”

The drive up the mountain and to the cabin was tense, both of them silent in expectation of what they would be facing soon. They were packed and prepared with everything they would need, their wooden stakes sharpened and in perfect condition, but that wasn’t enough for Dean not to feel nervous about bringing Cas into the line of fire.

Still, Dean reminded himself for the hundredth time that this wouldn’t be like the last trickster they’d dealt with, which had been the only one. Because that trickster hadn’t been a trickster at all; it had been a freaking archangel. Cas himself had pointed out that a trickster shouldn’t be even half as strong as Gabriel was, so why was Dean so worried? Why did he have such a bad feeling in his gut about this whole thing?

When they got close enough to the cabin for the walking distance to be manageable for both of them, Dean stopped the car, putting it in park and turning off the engine. The rumble of the engine died down, leaving them in the darkened woods surrounded by nothing but trees as the headlights were turned off and a heavy silence that only made Dean even more uneasy. The lack of sound felt loaded somehow, like the forest as a whole knew what was coming, could sense it somehow, and was waiting for it without making a sound, holding its breath in expectation.

Without a word, they both exited the car, grabbing their stakes from the duffel in the trunk before they began walking the rest of the way to the cabin. Dean was pretty sure there was no need for this, to ditch the car and walk the rest of the way to try for the element of surprise, because the trickster would probably know they were coming no matter if they had arrived with the car or not. He had been the one to call them out and tell them where he would be tonight after all, so he was without a doubt expecting them by now. But any advantage they could get would make a difference, so they had decided to leave the car behind a few yards away from the cabin.

The lights inside the cabin were on.

For some reason, a small part of Dean had hoped that the guy had been bluffing, or that he wouldn’t be able to go past the warding that still covered most of the walls, but apparently he had been wrong. The trickster was inside the cabin, waiting for them, and he wanted them to know that; he wanted them to know he wasn’t afraid in the slightest, that he felt perfectly okay with letting them know where he was and when. Briefly, Dean wondered if the trickster had been here before; wondered just how much he had seen. With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Dean realized just how exposed they had been all along, how utterly vulnerable they had been during the past few days. They hadn’t been safe at all, and they'd left their guards down completely in that place without a single clue of the danger they had been in, of the creepers lurking in the shadows and watching them from the distance.

Dean gave Cas a pointed look, his grip on his own wooden stake tightening. The angel nodded curtly twice, signaling wordlessly that he understood what Dean had meant. They had gone over the plan for tonight several times on the way here, so they shouldn’t have problems now.

Cas stood back while Dean entered the house, standing by the shadows of the forest and watching with careful eyes as Dean paused by the closed front door. Cas gave Dean a reassuring nod, this one a lot slower, which was exactly what drove Dean to open the door as calmly and slowly as he could and step inside, the intense look on Cas’ eyes the last thing he saw before he closed the door shut silently behind himself. Not that the lack of sound would make much of a difference. The trickster obviously knew Dean was here, so his efforts to go unnoticed probably wouldn't help him all that much, but he still insisted on them.

Stepping carefully, Dean eyed everything around him with attention, his muscles tense with expectation as he tried to hear any unusual sound around him. The hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms rose from his skin, warning him there was something in this cabin, something foreign and threatening, but he had no idea where it was. He couldn’t see anyone as he crossed the living room; couldn’t hear any sounds that might give away the trickster’s location anywhere near him. The silence inside the cabin was heavy, deadly and filled with tension. The calm before the storm, his mind provided, the sickening thought sending a chill down Dean’s spine before he quickly pushed it away.

He was just about to walk into the hallway that led to the bedroom when his stake flew out of his hand, as if pulled by some sort of invisible force, yanked from his grasp without a warning, landing on the wooden floor in the hallway that led to the bedrooms with a loud clatter. Dean followed it with his eyes, surprised, watching as it rolled away a few feet, only stopping when a booted foot stepped on it.

Dean looked up, finding that the owner of the foot was precisely who he had imagined it to be.

The guy from the bar.

Or yogurt asshole, as Dean liked to call him in his head.

“Hey, Dean,” The guy smiled, the single sight of it alone already unsettling, and Dean felt a sick feeling in his gut at the sound of his name on the creature’s lips, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Dean swallowed drily, glaring at the man before him, making sure to stick to the plan. This could still work; he just had to make it work, somehow, and wait for Cas to do his part. They could still do this, he was sure of it. “Sorry you didn’t get the memo, but we were not exactly expecting visitors tonight.”

The man smirked, and Dean hated the clear twinkle in his green eyes. It made Dean’s blood run cold; made him nervous in a way that had his skin crawling.

“Well, how rude of you.” The guy stretched out his hand, his palm turned downwards to the floor, and the stake flew up to his hand, which closed around the wooden object when it was close enough for him to grab without moving his hand. The trickster eyed the stake carefully, twisting it around in his hand so he could examine it from different angles; his brows frowned in what Dean could only define as mock concentration. This guy really liked to put on a show, which only made Dean grit his teeth tightly together in annoyance. He basically hated everything about this guy, the hunter realized. “Kind of sloppy around the edges, but pointy enough, I’d say. I give you an eight out of ten for the wood work.”

“It can still kill you just fine,” Dean couldn’t help but reply.

The guy paused, giving Dean an almost amused look, his eye twinkling in clear delight, like this was all a big joke only he knew of. “Perhaps. You’re going to have to hit me with it to find out.” Much to Dean’s surprise, the guy tossed the stake to him, crossing his arms over his chest after Dean grabbed it in the air.

Dean gripped the stake tightly in his hand, narrowing his eyes at the trickster as he tried to understand what exactly the guy was playing at here, trying to read his intentions somehow. This didn’t make sense. He was giving Dean the very thing that could kill him, and he looked like he couldn’t care less about doing it. He didn’t look scared or tense at all. No, he looked like he was absolutely sure he was completely in control here, and that Dean couldn’t possibly hurt him with the stake. He looked _too_ confident. Usually, Dean could tell when a monster was bluffing, when it was trying to sound and look all tough and powerful, but was actually shaking on the inside, or at least knew danger when it looked at him, when it knew that it was playing a dangerous game and that it might die. He could see it clearly, after all the years he’d spent hunting.

But this guy? He didn’t seem fearful _at all_.

There was something else, too. The look in the guy’s eyes, the way he looked at Dean like he could eat him alive, it made Dean uneasy in a way he couldn’t explain, although he had already been on the receiving end of similar looks throughout the years. But this felt different somehow. He suddenly had a very, _very_ bad feeling about this plan, but he couldn’t call it off now, as much as he wanted to. Damn it, maybe he and Cas shouldn’t have taken the bait and come here tonight, maybe this trap had been much more thought out than they had expected it to be, but Dean had always been impulsive like that. He had been sure this would be an easy hunt; that the trickster was just cocky because he had no idea what he was dealing with. Now Dean realized maybe he and Cas were the ones who were unprepared.

“Come on, Dean, I’m waiting,” the trickster’s smirk widened even more, if that was even possible, getting even more creepy, “Or do you want to wait for the angel to join us, because I’m cool with that too.”

A chill ran down Dean’s spine at those words, but he did his best to school his features into a mask of calmness and did not let his surprise or panic show. So the trickster knew Cas was an angel, and he still didn’t look even the slightest bit fazed, like it didn’t matter at all, like it didn’t even make a fucking difference to him. Their plan was looking worse with every second that passed, so much Dean already regretted coming here at all. It had been stupid to just come in here guns blazing when the creature they had been hunting had been bold enough to call them out. They shouldn’t have seen this coming; _Dean_ should have seen this coming.

At this point, Dean couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was even trickster at all, because with their luck, he could very well be something else entirely.

Swallowing down his nerves, Dean decided that even though he knew they had screwed up royally, he wouldn’t let it show. He wouldn’t give the guy the satisfaction. And maybe they could still get through this. Not all was lost just yet; Dean had made do with less in the past.

The guy—he really should ask the guy’s name or something, because calling him ‘guy’ in his head was getting old pretty fast—watching Dean with attention, the glint still very much present in his eyes. It was almost like he knew exactly what Dean was thinking, and he was clearly very happy with it. It made Dean even more nervous, and even a little nauseous, but he was too tense to do anything about it now. This was definitely not the time for his stomach to remember it hated him.

 _Cas, please, be careful._ Dean hated it that he had no idea if Cas could hear him or not, but he still had to try. Cas had said that they could project stuff through the bond, and that included thoughts, but Dean still didn’t know how to do it, or how to know if it had worked when he tried.

Dean knew Cas had heard him a moment later, when a feeling of warmth that was probably meant to soothe him flooded him through the bond, instantly easing some of the tension from his muscles and grounding him a little. _I will._ He heard Cas’ voice clearly inside his head, the sound as clear as it would be had the angel been standing right beside him in that living room. It should be creepy or freaky, Dean knew that, but it wasn’t. The knowledge that they could do this was actually kind of comforting, and it set Dean’s nerves at ease a little, if only just barely.

“I know you’re there, Castiel,” the trickster called out as he stepped into the room, almost like he had heard Dean and Cas’ little exchange. Briefly, Dean wondered if he had. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised. “Come on out, don’t be shy.”

Cas didn’t show, just as Dean had predicted. The trickster did not look disappointed at all, which led the hunter to believe maybe he hadn’t expected Cas to step out of hiding either. He looked like he was playing some sort of game here, and that made Dean all the more nervous.

“So, what’s your deal?” Dean asked, deciding that maybe buying more time and trying to get the guy distracted enough for Cas to get the jump on him might be the best tactic right now. He couldn’t see any other way this might work. “Why try to kill people with a bunch of toys?”

The trickster shrugged. “Because it’s funny,” he replied casually, sounding like he might as well be talking about the weather, “Too bad you two found me before I could put the spike legos in action. That one would have been hilarious!”

Dean did everything he could not to roll his eyes at that comment. “And why those guys? Any reasons in particular for choosing them?”

“Not really,” The trickster shrugged again, “I’m not picky.”

“So let me get this straight,” Dean shook his head in disbelief, trying and failing to understand what this guy’s game was. He had met a few lunatics like him before, and that made Dean a little uneasy, because he knew he could not be sure what to expect from a monster as twisted in the head as this one. Anything could happen with this psycho. “You decided to play a few almost deadly pranks on random people just because it’s funny?” It was revolting, really, and the only thing keeping Dean from charging over to the guy and punching the living fuck out of him was the fact that he knew that wouldn’t end well for him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” the guy smirked again, looking like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“Why leave them alive, though? Or warn people about the attacks?” Dean still didn’t get that.

The trickster shrugged once more, still looking as unfazed as ever by the conversation, sounding almost uninterested now, “Who said my intention was to kill them in the first place?”

Dean frowned, confused. He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the chance to let anything out.

And that was the precise moment Cas chose to attack.

Dean hadn’t even seen Cas until there was a blur of beige in his vision and all of a sudden the trickster was on the floor, Cas straddling him over his stomach and driving the stake down right into the creature’s chest.

For a moment, everything was frozen. Dean could only stand there, watching with wide eyes as Cas panted over the body of the trickster, where the wooden stake had been buried into the creature’s chest exactly where below the skin and the ribcage his heart should be, a wound that could not have been more precise. The trickster was unmoving, just lying there on the carpet, and for a second, Dean was sure they had done it. The trickster was dead, and they were both fine. A smile had already begun forming on his lips at those thoughts, relief flooding his insides in a wave. They had—

The trickster laughed.

“Oh, well, good try, boys.”

Cas was thrown to the side by what Dean could only assume was the same invisible force from before at a single flick from the creature’s wrist, landing on his side on the floor with a loud, muffled thud as the angel's body hit the carpet.

The creature sat up slowly, pulling out the now bloody stake from his flesh with nothing more than a slight grimace, like he was pulling a ripped nail or something. He didn’t look to be in pain at all once the stake was out, which sent yet another chill down Dean’s spine. “Too bad I liked this shirt.”

 _Fuck_.

And then Dean was flying backwards, his back pressed against the wall on the side, being held there by some invisible wall pressing against his front, strong non-material hands gripping his form and taking away his ability to move.

“I’m disappointed in you two.” The creature started pacing around the room, taking turns in glancing at each one of them, although there was no annoyance in his eyes or voice, no anger from the fact that they had just tried to kill him, just pure curiosity and that damn hint of amusement that never seemed to go away from his face.

Cas had managed to kneel, raising his body just barely from the carpet, but he obviously couldn’t do more than that, even though he was clearly trying to. Dean assumed the creature must be holding him down. Gulping, Dean realized that this was definitely not a trickster. What creature could hold an angel down like that so easily, though? Dean couldn’t think of any, but whatever it was, it had to be pretty powerful. That realization only made Dean even angrier at himself for coming here tonight, and bringing Cas along, which made it all so much worse. If anything happened to Cas because he was just too stupid not to figure out this wasn’t even a damn trickster…

“I mean, haven’t we gone over this already? This game is already getting pretty old, don’t you think? Three times for you, Dean, and once for you, Cassie.”

Dean frowned, staring at the creature like the guy had just grown an extra head, because honestly, that would be a lot less weird. He was talking like he knew them, and did he really just call Cas _Cassie_? What the hell was this guy’s problem?

“I mean, sure, Dean is a little slow when it comes to these things, but you, Cassie?” The creature wasn’t even looking at Dean anymore, instead choosing to face the angel, who was still on the floor and looking very much stuck in his current position. Cas looked about as confused as Dean felt right now. “You really don’t recognize your own family?”

Dean tried to make sense out of that sentence, but he couldn’t. The guy was saying he was _Cas’_ family? That could only mean one thing, but that couldn’t—

_No._

_No fucking way._

Dean watched as something shifted in Cas’ eyes as he stared up at the creature, the previous confusion that had been so obvious in his features draining away in an instant, and suddenly the angel didn’t seem stuck anymore. Slowly, Cas rose his body from the floor, his eyes wide as he stared at the supposed trickster with an expression that Dean could only describe as shock in his features, or maybe disbelief. Probably both.

For the longest moment, nothing was said, not even a single word. The silence was heavy again, like it had been when Dean had first entered the cabin, though it felt a lot tenser than it had before, much more charged.

Finally, Cas spoke, saying the name Dean had all but failed to conjure in his mind, because it just couldn’t be real; this couldn’t be happening. It just _couldn’t_ possibly be…

“Gabriel.”

 _Damn it_.

The form of the trickster began to glow in a blue-ish light, swallowed by it for a moment before the small flames faded away, leaving another form in its place, one that was all too familiar to Dean. Long-ish brown hair now covered the man's head, the creature’s frame shorter than it had been before.

“Hey, Cassie,” Gabriel, _fucking archangel Gabriel_ , turned to look at Dean, his golden eyes practically sparkling, the exact same smirk Dean had seen way too many times in his life flooding into the archangel's lips, “Dean-o!”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The force that had been holding Dean against the wall was suddenly gone, but Dean caught himself in time not to fall face first onto the floor, instead supporting his back against the wall and somehow managing to regain his balance quickly enough.

No words were spoken again, neither Dean nor Cas actually managing to let even the slighest sound out; Dean because he was too shocked to even know how to react to this, let alone say anything, and Cas, well, the angel had apparently gone almost catatonic, almost like his brain could not quite process the fact that Gabriel was right there, alive and standing right before them.

"Well, don't you both look happy to see me," Gabriel smirked at them both, but there was an edge to his mocking tone, one Dean couldn't quite understand, but that sounded almost like disappoitment.

That seemed to be enough to snap Cas out of his trance. “You were dead,” Cas was shaking his head, his eyes not having left Gabriel for even one second since his identity had been revealed, “Lucifer killed you.” His voice was calm, but Dean could for some reason feel the Mark perking up in his arm, as it usually did when it sensed something was happening, something that could lead to anger or rage or anything it could feed on, and although he couldn't feel anything coming from Cas, he could already tell the angel wasn't as calm on the inside as he was letting on.

“He almost did,” Gabriel shrugged, sounding oddly calm, “But he didn’t. I’m the Trickster, after all. Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me? Please, give me a little more credit.” Gabriel let himself fall onto the loveseat beside the couch, like he owned the place or something.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” It was Dean’s turn to ask, his voice rising without his consent, but he didn’t care enough to lower the volume. He could feel a spark of anger of his own beginning to make itself known, and ignore the way the Mark got even more excited, beginning its low, incoherent whispering once more, “And you left us to deal with the freaking Apocalypse on our own?”

Gabriel lifted his hands in a gesture Dean assumed was meant to ask him to calm down, but that had the opposite effect. Dean was already feeling like throwing punches. “Whoa, whoa, I didn’t _leave_ you guys to do anything. Lucy almost killed me! It took me over two years to actually recover from that. Fooling him didn’t take little power, trust me, it actually took a little more than I could handle. I almost died for real. And if I recall correctly, I’m the one who told you about the Rings of the Horsemen being the Key to the Cage in the first place, so you can’t say I didn’t help at all.”

That didn’t make Dean feel better at all, but Cas beat him so speaking.

"So it was true. Metatron's illusion about you being alive."

Dean frowned in confusion at that, because Cas never mentioned anything about an illusion from Metatron featuring Gabriel, but he quickly decided that this really wasn't the moment to ask about it.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at that. "Is that what that douche has been up to? I know he used my Horn, but illusions too? That guy is trying to steal my moves." Gabriel scoffed, shaking his head and acting like was the only problem with this whole thing.

"In the illusion you said you faked your own death and went into hiding after taking on Lucifer. Is that not at all accurate?" There was a clear edge to Cas' voice, a sharpness to his words that had Dean growing quiet instead of saying something himself.

Gabriel shrugged, but the smirk playing on his lips was enough of an answer on its own. "Now onto the real important question here, and I need a very honest, detailed and complete answer." He even made a freaking dramatic pause before he asked, "Was I this wonderfully handsome in the illusion? Because if I wasn't, I'll be very, _very_  disappointed." He did that eyebrow wiggling he always did, which only made Dean all the more angry, because the bastard wasn't taking any of this seriously at all.

Apparently that annoyed Cas as well, because it was what made the seraph snap. “I mourned your death,” Cas looked _livid_ right now, the sight so scary Dean actually stepped back in surprise. He could feel the pure anger flooding him through the bond, the rage emanating from Cas almost overwhelming, so much that Dean felt the Mark flaring up in his arm even more than before, happy to use Cas’ anger as fuel instead of Dean’s. Now that they were linked, that was pretty much the same thing. “I mourned you. We _needed_ you, and where were you? Hiding away, just as you have done for thousands of years now! How could you turn your back at Heaven like this? How could you abandon your _family_ yet again, at the time we needed you the most, like it means nothing to you?!”

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had meant died in his throat as Cas continued. Cas apparently wasn’t willing to let the archangel speak.

“You could have helped delivering Michael and Lucifer into the Cage. You could have stopped the war against Raphael before it even began! The Leviathan would not have gotten lose, and maybe all angels would not have Fallen from Heaven! You could have defeated Abaddon, and Dean would have never taken on the Mark of Cain! You could have saved so many lives, human and angel alike!”

Gabriel lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender, and he actually looked surprised at Cas’ outburst, as foreign as the expression was on his face. Dean had to admit he was a little surprised himself, but he understood where Cas was coming from. Gabriel could have helped so much in the past few years, and instead, he had chosen to go back to hiding and let them deal with the end of the world by themselves, more than once. Still, Dean was pretty sure the Mark had a hand on the way Cas had pretty much just lost his temper, or how he himself felt like throwing a punch.

“Listen, Cassie, I know you’re upset, but I didn’t have a choice! What part of ‘drained for over two years’ did you not hear?”

“And after that?” Dean decided to enter the conversation once again, because Cas looked like he was about to strangle Gabriel any second now, and as fun and entertaining as that scene would be, Dean thought better not to let it happen, “When you recharged your batteries, why didn’t you show? It’s been a lot more than two years since the Apocalypse, so where were you then?”

Gabriel let out a sigh, exaggerating a little in the gesture. “Listen, there was nothing I could have done to help you guys, not even with the Leviathan, or with the Tablets, or with anything, not even with Abaddon.”

“So you’ve been watching everything from a safe distance, is that it?” Dean could feel his own anger rising up quickly inside his body, the Mark burning on his forearm once more, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop it this time. He was just so fucking _pissed_ right now that he could start swinging himself if Gabriel wasn’t careful with his answers.

“Well, when you put it like _that_ …”

Dean only realized he had moved when he felt his hand hurting like a freaking bitch. He should have learned his lesson when he had punched Cas all those years ago in that safe room when he was locked up for Michael about how punching an angel was worse than punching a brick wall, but maybe the Mark had him growing a little too confident. He groaned in pain, gripping his wounded hand in his healthy one and gritting his teeth tightly together.

Glaring daggers at Gabriel, Dean felt a wave of satisfaction when he realized that the archangel was flexing his jaw a little, wincing as he did so, which meant Dean’s fist must have done some sort of damage. He was a lot stronger than a human thanks to the Mark, he was aware of that, and apparently that was enough to hurt an archangel, even if just barely.

Good.

“Rude,” Gabriel glared back at Dean, rubbing at his wounded jaw, before allowing his hand to fall back to his side, “Here I am, willing to offer you two my help, and this is how you thank me.”

Dean actually chuckled at that, but it came out as a dry sound tearing through his lips, no amusement in it whatsoever. “You’re saying you want to help us?” The single sound of it was just too ridiculous for him not to find the concept completely amusing, hilarious even.

“Why else do you think I would be here, genius?” Gabriel got back to his feet then, though that didn’t make that much of a difference, considering he was a lot shorter than both Dean and Cas, “Or did you really think I just have a thing for small towns in the middle of nowhere?”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re here because of us?” Dean inquired, letting the disbelief bleed into his voice freely, “And you attacked those people why?”

“To get your attention!” Gabriel said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, lifting his arms for dramatic effect, “And I didn’t kill anyone, just gave two douche bags a scare, no permanent damage.”

“You can’t be serious,” Dean shook his head in disbelief, though he did manage to hold back the several curses that threatened to fly from his mouth at that ridiculous—and honestly revolting—explanation. Gabriel was just insane, there was no other explanation for him to believe he actually had a point.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, looking annoyed, although he really didn’t have the right to be. “They’ll be healed by morning, okay? Scout’s honor.”

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Cas spoke first. “Why would we need your help, Gabriel?” The angel sounded calmer now, but his words were still sharp, and there was an edge of uncertainty to his voice Dean didn't quite understand, a hint of hesitance that had pretty much come out of nowhere.

Gabriel actually smirked at that, even when both Dean and Cas were clearly the opposite of amused with this whole situation. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Cassie, you’re the one with the brains in the family.”

Cas frowned at that, tilting his head to the side, and it honestly looked like he was debating whether to strangle or stab Gabriel. Dean was pretty sure that was exactly what was going on in the angel’s head. It was sure as hell going through his, anyway.

“Gabriel, why are you here?” Dean asked, flexing his hand a few times and wincing when the movement hurt. His patience was already growing thin. He had definitely not signed up for this in this hunt. He’d rather deal with a mysterious killer than with an annoying archangel who couldn’t be reasoned with.

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond to that, but closed it shortly after, like he'd abruptly changed his mind. The gesture confused Dean, but not as much as the fact that Gabriel’s face turned oddly serious all of a sudden, a sight so uncommon it was a little bit unnerving.

“The Fall affected me too, even if I didn’t necessarily fall with the others, because I was on Earth when Metatron cast the spell,” Gabriel explained, his voice unbelievably low and serious, a clear contrast from what it had been barely a minute ago, “You have no idea just how much it took me to hide my powers from you, Castiel. I’m weaker than I’ve ever been.” Cas frowned a little, but didn’t comment, nor did he let on any hint of surprise at the sudden use of his full name instead of ‘Cassie’. "The visual illusion took a lot too, by the way, but I thought it would be appropriate."

The smirk that followed those words had Dean frowning in confusion. "How the hell could it be appropriate?"

Much to Dean's annoyance, the freaking smirk got wider. "Oh, you know, green eyes, black hair, a little bit from you, a little bit from Cassie." He wiggled his eyebrows again. "How could I resist?"

Dean's frown got even deeper, while Cas tilted his head to the side and looked completely lost, but before either of them could even ask what the hell Gabriel could have possibly meant with that, the archangel was back to speaking.

“Let's just say that even if I am not at full power right now, I was still able to feel a shift about a month ago, like a few dozen warning bells ringing inside my head, only a lot louder and annoying, so I decided to go check it out. The signal took me to Omaha, Nebraska, and well, let's just say that when I got there I knew something big had happened.”

 _Oh, no_. Dean really didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like it _at all._

“And what would that be?” Dean had no idea how Cas managed to sound so calm and unbothered, because there was no way Cas wasn’t thinking about the same thing he was thinking right now

“Oh, come on, Cassie, just do a quick math. I’m pretty sure you can tell just _what_ exactly happened between you two in Omaha a month ago. You want me to draw it? Because, you know, I’m really talented with a brush. Taught Picasso all he knew.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake…

Cas paused, opening his mouth just barely, before closing it again. His face reddened a little with color, but other than that the angel was doing a pretty good job at keeping his face stoic and unaffected. Dean wasn’t as skilled at that, he could feel the way his face heated up, could tell his skin was flushed with color, and he hated it. Crowley had already made him go through something similar, and he really didn’t want to go through the same thing with Gabriel, especially not with all the damn jokes. Why was this his life?

“I assume you know about the soul bond,” Cas finally said, his eyes heavy with something Dean couldn’t quite read, but that looked almost like a threat, or a warning of some sorts. It sure as hell looked like it, at least.

“I do,” Gabriel nodded lightly, not looking or sounding at all bothered by the sudden unfriendliness in Cas’ stance, “And I gotta say, Cassie, getting mated to a human? I never thought you had it in you.”

It was a true surprise that Gabriel didn’t burst into flames under Cas’ glare right then and there.

“But then again, who am I to judge?” Gabriel smirked once more, “And anyway, that’s not what I was taking about.”

“Then what _are_ you talking about?” Dean was getting tired of the sound of Gabriel’s voice pretty fucking fast.

The spark in Gabriel’s eyes was suddenly back with full force, maybe even stronger than it had been before, if that was even possible, an emotion Dean couldn't quite read suddenly taking over his eyes as he stared Dean up and down, much like Crowley had done that day at the motel room. It made Dean uneasy on his feet, just like it had with the demon, but he didn’t let it show. There was absolutely no need to give Gabriel the satisfaction of realizing he was getting under Dean’s skin in any way.

“How are you feeling, Dean-o?”

Dean frowned, confused by the question. It really had come out of nowhere, and he wasn’t sure what was expected of him to respond to that. He glanced over at Cas, who looked just as confused as the hunter felt as the angel watched Gabriel’s every move with sharp eyes, before focusing his eyes back on Gabriel. “I’m fine,” he replied, shrugging lightly.

For some reason, Gabriel smirked at the answer, an amused look taking over his features. “Yeah, right. Just peachy, I assume, with the Mark of Cain burning on your arm, threatening to turn you into a demon again and all that.” Dean swallowed drily, but decided not to comment. “I’m guessing it hasn’t been acting up lately, has it? Like it’s angry about something?”

“It’s always angry,” Dean replied before he could stop the words from flying out of his mouth. It was the truth, though, and it wasn’t like Cas didn’t know about it, especially now that he could actually _feel_ it. The Mark had always been angry; it had always acted like a caged animal fuming at the mouth, whispering things to Dean whenever it could, making sure he knew it hated everything in existence and wanted it all to burn. It just seemed angrier now than it had been before because of the soul bond, but it wasn’t that much of a change, to be honest. It was just more annoying, and a little harder to control, but Dean could deal.

“Sure,” Gabriel took a few steps around the room, pacing lazily across the carpet, “Now, correct me if I’m wrong: it started acting up a little more than before after you two bonded, am I right? I mean, sure, Cas’ Grace numbs it and all that, but does it seem angrier than before, somehow? More on edge?”

Dean could feel Cas’ eyes on his face, a wordless question suddenly hanging in the air of the room even if it wasn’t voiced. Dean hadn’t told Cas about it, hadn’t even planned to, because he hadn’t wanted him to worry. Knowing what he would find in the angel’s eyes if he looked at Cas, Dean didn’t look away from Gabriel as he answered, “Yeah, the Mark doesn’t like the bond. So?” Dean was actually kind of proud of just how calm and collected he sounded, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

Gabriel’s smirk widened at that, if that was even possible. “Are you sure that’s all?”

Dean shrugged, now honestly confused where Gabriel was trying to take this conversation. Did he even have a point he was trying to make, or was he just trying to be annoying now? Because if that was it, then he was making a pretty damn good job at it. “What else could it be?”

Gabriel shrugged theatrically, “Tell me something, my dear Dean,” The archangel stepped closer to the human, the glint in his eyes so evident it was almost freaky by now, “Have you been feeling nauseous lately? Or moody? Both?”

Dean felt his body tensing up, hating that he was being called out on something he had been trying so hard to hide during the past few weeks. How could Gabriel possibly know about that? And why the hell was that important right now?

Gabriel gave Dean yet another one of those smug looks, before spinning around to face Cas, “I mean, Cassie, I can’t believe you haven’t even considered it,” and Gabriel was _still_ talking, “You guys bonded without a ritual, so why would _this_ be any different for you two?”

Dean frowned, finally turning to look at Cas, expecting to find the angel looking just as confused as he was, but he was surprised to see that wasn’t exactly the case. Cas didn’t look confused—he looked _terrified_ , with the whole wide eyes and stiff body combo. He might even be a little paler all of a sudden.

“Cas?” The look in Cas’ face set a weight in Dean’s stomach, like a rock of nervousness and anxiety. Whatever Gabriel was implying had Cas pretty much panicking—Dean was suddenly overwhelmed withCas’ fear as it spilled through the bond, feel it washing over his insides in constant waves—and that definitely couldn’t mean anything good. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not possible,” Cas whispered, turning his head so his wide blue eyes were fixed on Dean. The look in them was odd, something Dean had never seen before, like Cas was just now seeing him for the first time, before he set them back on the archangel, “Gabriel, that cannot happen.”

“I’m telling you, little bro, it did. You can check it yourself, if you know what to look for. It might be a little hard to notice it, though. A month is a little too early for that, and your Grace is a look weaker than normally, so only archangels should be able to tell right now. Well, archangels and our Father, obviously.”

_What the hell were they talking about?_

Dean watched as Cas stepped forward, his eyes not leaving his for even a single second as the angel crossed the room to stand right before the hunter. Dean swallowed drily, trying to find his voice so he could demand they tell him what the hell was going on here, but he couldn’t speak right now. The utter dread and panic that was still so evident in Cas’ eyes and that was constantly slipping through the bond had rendered Dean speechless by now, so all he found himself able to do was stand there and wait for Cas to do something.

“Don’t move,” Cas whispered, resting either one of his hands against each side of Dean’s head, before closing his eyes. Dean felt a feeling of warmness slipping into his being, somewhat similar to what their bond felt like, but also so clearly different he could instantly tell it wasn’t the same thing. He knew Cas as looking for something, but he had no idea what Cas what that could be. He allowed it to happen, nonetheless, not putting up any kind of resistance that could make Cas’ search more difficult than it should be with his fading Grace.

Cas gasped, stumbling backwards without a warning, like he had just received a punch to the gut. If possible, his eyes were even wider, now filled with so much shock and panic that Dean felt his own heart speeding up inside his chest in response.

_What the hell did he see? What the hell was going on?_

“You saw it, didn’t you?” Gabriel asked lowly, his voice deadly serious all of a sudden, just a low rumble that didn't fit the archangel at all, “It’s hard to tell the difference with something’s that’s so similar and mingled with your own Grace and his soul, but it’s still there.”

“What’s still there?” Dean demanded, tired of being left out of the conversation. The two were talking like he wasn’t even in the room anymore, and that made him feel like throwing punches all over again.

Cas looked up to meet Dean’s eyes once again, but no words came out of the angel’s mouth. He was even panting a little, his eyes wider than Dean had ever seen them before. He looked like he just couldn’t bring himself to form words, like his mind had stopped working.

So Dean turned to Gabriel instead. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, letting all his annoyance to be left in the dark slip into his voice, hoping it would be enough to make the archangel give him some sort of explanation.

Gabriel seemed completely unfazed by Dean’s anger, replying in such a calm tone it just made Dean want to punch him even more. “A few thousands of years ago, a few angels thought it would be amazing if they forced soul bonds onto humans.”

“Yeah, I know that story.” Dean remembered Cas telling him about it when the angel had first explained to him what the soul bond was, and why it was forbidden by Heaven.

And there it was again, that damn glint in Gabriel’s eyes, the one that had a chill running down Dean’s spine and made him feel even more nervous and uneasy than before. “Oh, I doubt you know it all, Dean-o, or else you would have figured it out by now.”

Dean frowned, glancing briefly at Cas, who wasn’t looking at him anymore, but instead watching the floor like it held the answers to all of their problems. For some reason, Cas refused to look up, and Dean took that as a confirmation that Cas had indeed not told him everything there was for him to know about the soul bond.

“What else is there for me to know?” He could hear the sudden edge in his voice, even if he tried to hold it in. What had Cas tried to keep from him?

“There’s a second part to that story, one that Cassie probably judged as irrelevant, because under any other circumstances, it wouldn’t matter at all.” Well, that sort of explained why Cas hadn’t told him everything, but it wasn’t enough to send all of Dean’s anger away. Cas still wouldn’t look up at him, and that wasn’t helping. “Some of those angels had an even brighter idea.”

“What idea?” Dean already had a very bad feeling about this.

“Channeling the power of a human soul is not all the bond allows to happen,” Gabriel went on, the glint still very much present in his eyes, “With the help of another ritual, one much more complicated and tedious than the first one to bond the angel’s Grace to the human’s soul, something else could be done, and that something is exactly what I felt happening a month ago.”

It was taking every single ounce of self-control Dean had in him not to step forward and try to punch the rest of the story out of Gabriel, because could he stop stalling and just tell him what really mattered already? Dean was tired of waiting; had been for a while now.

“Let’s just say that all archangels have their radars set to notice if something like that ever happens again, so Heaven can be alerted as soon as it happens and know who exactly is the angel who did it. It worked at the time, but now I’m the only archangel left on Earth, so I’m the only one who felt it.”

“Felt _what_?” Dean was about to start swinging in three, two, one…

“The conception of a nephilim.”

Dean frowned, because that was certainly not something he had expected to hear. For a moment, he just stared at Gabriel, trying to understand what exactly he expected Dean to understand from that. What the hell did that have to do with anything?

Dean remembered the term nephilim from the time of the Trials, because Cas had told him he’d had to kill a nephilim to complete what he had at the time believed to be the Angel Trials to close the Gates of Heaven, but that had later turned out to be a spell to cast all the angels out of Heaven and down to Earth so Metatron could take over Heaven. A nephilim was a hybrid—half-angel and half-human, and apparently forbidden by Heaven. But what exactly did that—

And just like that, it all fell into place right before Dean’s eyes.

_“Have you been feeling nauseous lately? Or moody? Both?”_

_“You really shouldn’t be drinking.”_

_It can’t grow if it breaks…_

Dean felt all his breath being sucked out of his body, leaving him with a racing heart and aching lungs. His head was suddenly spinning as the past few weeks replayed in his head—the sudden, completely inexplicable nausea, how he was just irritable all the time, and then Gabriel telling him he couldn’t drink at the bar and turning his whiskey into yogurt. He had blamed it all on the Mark of Cain; had been sure that was the only explanation for all that, but now…

It all fell into place, like a puzzle coming together in his head.

But he couldn’t believe it, because it _couldn’t_ be true. Gabriel just _couldn’t_ be serious, because that stuff just didn’t happen. It _couldn’t_ happen. No matter just how freaky or insane his life was, no matter just how much crazy stuff he had dealt with over the years, how many impossible things he’d seen with his own eyes, _this_ was crossing a fucking line. No way. No _fucking_ way.

Dean turned his head to look at Cas, only to find the angel staring at him again. He had hoped to see something in Cas’ eyes, _anything_ that would tell him this wasn’t serious; that Gabriel wasn’t serious; that this was a terrible prank, a joke, _something, **anything**_.

But instead, he found panic in Cas’ eyes, outright fear impregnating those two blue orbs in a way that did not suit Cas in the slightest. The sincerity of those emotions on the angel’s face should have been confirmation enough, but it wasn’t, because this just _couldn’t be happening_. This was crazy, too fucking surreal, even for them. He couldn’t be… He just couldn’t be…

He couldn’t even _think_ about that word right now.

It was Gabriel who gave him the confirmation, saying the few words that echoed inside Dean’s head way too many times and just refused to sink in; the words that sent his entire world spiraling out of control.

“You’re pregnant, Dean-o.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, guys, don't look at me like that, you knew I was going to end it there. Seriously, how could I not? XD
> 
> I wonder how Dean will take the news... ;P


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, but real life once more got in the way of my writing. :/ Also, this chapter was a pretty hard one to write, and it turned out a lot longer than I thought it would (over 19k words, again). I'm still a little worried about Dean's characterization, but I think it turned out alright in the end. (I hope).
> 
> Thank you all for all your lovely comments! You guys are so kind.<3 Every single one of your comments makes me so happy. :)
> 
> I would like to point out that all the facts mentioned about Dean's pregnancy, not only in this chapter but throughout the entire story, can be either made up by me or result of internet research, and I apologize if anything is terribly inaccurate.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains spoilers from the episode 10x17, "Inside Man".

“You’re pregnant, Dean-o.”

Pregnant.

_Pregnant._

**_Pregnant._ **

No matter how many times that word echoed inside Dean’s head, it seemed completely void of meaning, just a scramble of letters without order or connection. At least that was what it felt like for him. His mind just couldn’t process the actual meaning of it, couldn’t even begin to comprehend it, his thoughts coming to a complete halt. He just couldn't quite manage to make his mind go back to working, much less wrap his head around that one single word, as his brain completely refused to cooperate. He couldn't even start  _trying_ to  _process_ this.

Because there was no way to do that. Because this just couldn’t be happening. It just _couldn’t_.

It must have been a few minutes until Dean finally came back to himself. He blinked a few times, feeling unusually numb as he glanced over at where the two angels were still standing, like this whole thing was happening to another person, like he was seeing this whole thing through someone else's eyes. He found both Cas and Gabriel just staring at him, waiting for something to happen, for some sort of reaction out of him, he assumed. They were watching him like he was a spooked animal ready to flight, which honestly wasn’t that far away from what he was actually feeling right then. The sight of Cas’ wide, scared eyes was what really made him snap out of his trance, and finally his mind seemed to go back to functioning enough for him to speak again.

He was shaking his head before he even realized it was happening. “No freaking way," he let out, the words breathy and coated with annoyance, because this had to be a prank, and honestly, his patience was already running pretty short when it came to Gabriel and all his freaking jokes. This was crossing a fucking line and Dean wasn't having it. "Listen, Gabriel, I don’t know what game you’re trying to play here, but I don’t—”

“Unfortunately, I’m not playing a game here, Dean-o, as much as I wish I was.” The heavy tone of Gabriel’s voice was a surprise, just adding to the pile of things that just didn’t make any fucking sense at the moment, because Gabriel actually looked serious about this when all Dean wanted was for him to go back to his annoying, obnoxious self. “You are bearing a nephilim, and you have been for four weeks as of yesterday.”

That didn’t even make _any fucking sense._

“That’s impossible,” Dean somehow managed to breathe out, shaking his head frantically, as if that would change anything; as if it would make this whole story dissolve right before his eyes. As if it would make Gabriel vanish and Dean realize that he was just dreaming and none of this was even real.

But that didn't happen.

“It’s not,” It was Cas who said it, making this entire story all the more real, all the more _insane_.

“Cas, I’m a _guy_!” Because somehow that should be enough to make Cas realize this couldn’t happen. Guys don’t get pregnant. They just don’t. Simple as that. “It’s _impossible_.”

“Trust me, Dean-o, it’s far from impossible,” Gabriel sounded deadly serious, and yet Dean couldn’t see any truth in his words.

Turning back to Cas, Dean stared right into the angel’s wide blue eyes, almost begging for Cas to stop with this whole thing and tell him it was indeed impossible. Instead, the response Dean got from the seraph was, “It is not impossible, Dean, not because of your body. The humans that bore the Nephilim millennia ago were both male and female. Your gender makes no difference when angelic Grace is involved. It can make any adjustments in your body that are necessary for a pregnancy to take place, even if you’re male.”

Letting out a heavy breath of air at those words, Dean began to pace, running his fingers through his hair as he tried and failed to process that. Because he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Dean was still waiting, hoping for either Cas or Gabriel (or preferably both) to just stop looking at him with such serious faces and tell him that they weren’t serious, that this was all a freaking joke. But that didn’t happen, no matter how many seconds passed, how many times Dean looked back and forth between seraph and archangel.

The room suddenly felt too small, too crowded, no matter if there were only three beings in that living room right now. The walls were closing in on them, threatening to trap and suffocate them. There wasn’t enough air in that place. He couldn’t breathe. And Dean needed fucking  _air_ …

“Dean,” Cas stepped forward, his right hand stretched forward, ready to hold Dean’s arm and try to keep the hunter steady on his feet, because Dean was pretty certain that he probably looked like he was about to pass out and tumble down to the floor at any second. At least he sure as hell felt like that was about to happen.

For some reason, he didn’t want the contact. Honestly, he didn't even think before he reacted. On instinct, he stepped back when Cas moved, causing the angel to pause. Cas looked hurt, but paused himself, a pained look in his blue eyes, his brows furrowed. Dean felt bad for stepping back as soon as he saw Cas' reaction, a pang of guilt stabbing at his heart like a knife, constricting it like a closed first. He felt the urge to step forward and assure Cas that he hadn’t meant to hurt him, but Dean just _couldn’t_ do it. He felt uneasy in his own skin, the air around him suddenly feeling too thin in his lungs, his head spinning, the edges of his vision growing black and the urge to get out of that room getting stronger with every passing second. Nausea began to coil up in his stomach, building up so quickly he was sure he was going to throw up, but was happy when he didn't.

Somehow, he knew he was having a panic attack, or at least something very close to that.

He needed to get out of here.

He just wanted fucking _air_ , because he couldn’t fucking _breathe..._

“Don’t,” was all Dean managed to let out, the word coming out choked in his suddenly seemingly clogged throat, and then he was out the door. He heard Cas calling out for behind as he left, but then Dean heard Gabriel’s voice a second later, the words low and muffled because of the distance, the sound for some reason calm and demanding. With one glance back at the house, Dean realized Cas wasn’t following him, so he assumed Gabriel had told Cas not to.

Well, for once, Gabriel did something right.

Dean walked the short distance to the Impala in much less time than he remembered having walked with Cas half an hour ago, but he didn’t question it. His mind was racing and he doubted his notion of time—or notion of anything at all, really—was good for anything right now, what with all the adrenaline he knew must be running through his veins.

Without much thought, Dean started up the Impala’s engine and turned the car around, leaving the cabin in his rearview mirror as he sped away on the dirt road, the tires sliding a little over the earthy ground and sending a cloud of dirt up in the air in his wake, the car rocking a lot more than it would be prudent or comfortable because of the uneven ground under the tires, but Dean didn't pay it much mind. He was pretty sure she would forgive him for abusing her suspension system like this just this once.

Dean didn’t look back.

For almost an hour, Dean drove the way back to town without a single thought, just going through the motions he had repeated so many times during the past few days, with all the trips he had made back and forth between the cabin and Absarokee. He knew the way by heart now, no thoughts required.

It was when he was just a few miles out of town that Dean’s thoughts caught up to him and made him realize that going back to town wasn’t a good idea, especially not to their motel room. Cas would find him there, for sure, or at least he would find him way too quickly, and that wasn’t something Dean felt like he could deal with right now. No, he needed quiet, needed some place away from everyone and everything, because that was the only way he would get his mind to freaking _work_ right now.

So he took a detour, driving away from the main road and following a clearly unused path that probably led to some other cabin. After a few minutes, that path led to a small clearing, where Dean finally decided he couldn’t drive anymore and stopped the car, shutting off the engine.

With a huff, Dean got out of the car.

He just stood there for the longest time, panting and trying to sort out his thoughts in the middle of an empty field.

The clearing was apparently a peaceful place, completely deserted and silent around him, such a clear contrast from the hurricane of emotions Dean was feeling inside of himself that it actually helped him settled down a bit. His heart was still racing and his breathing was still labored, and he knew that just being in a freaking meadow would definitely not be enough to change that.

Pregnant.

That word still echoed inside his mind, but he couldn’t quite register the meaning of it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, because it was just _too freaking much_ for him.

He had dealt with his fair share of crazy in his life. He had killed demons, angels, gods, monsters and ghosts, he had stopped more than one apocalypse and been to Hell, Heaven and Purgatory, he had died more times than he could count, and he had been his own fair share of things himself, including a ghost, a vampire, Death for a day and a demon, and not just an ordinary demon, but a freaking Knight of Hell. But _this_?

This was more than Dean thought he could handle.

And the worst part of it? It wasn’t that all crazy, wasn't completely impossible, as his mind had been screaming at him earlier back at the cabin. A guy getting pregnant was nowhere near the craziest he and Sam had seen over the years, it was actually pretty chill in comparison to most of the crap they had dealt with. Hell, compared to everything he and his brother had gone through, that was almost _normal_.

No, what he was freaking out about was that it was happening to _him_.

Of course, he hadn’t even considered it. Sure, if he were a girl, he might have thought about it when the nausea had begun to hit with full force and everything, but he wasn’t a girl and the possibility of it hadn’t even crossed his mind, at any point.

He obviously hadn’t thought about it when he’d slept with Cas in Omaha. They hadn’t used a condom, but Dean hadn’t even imagined there would be a need for one. Cas was a freaking _angel_ , so Dean hadn’t been worried about getting some disease from him, and surely an unexpected pregnancy hadn’t been on his mind, like, ever.

And anyway, would a condom even have prevented this? Was sex enough to conceive a nephilim or had the fact that Cas’ Grace had poured into him been the responsible for it? Maybe both? Dean had no idea, all he knew was that he was pretty sure his body wasn’t supposed to have any sort of ovules stored anywhere, and Cas' dick had definitely not been in a place that led anywhere where there could be anything waiting even if there were, so there had to be more to it. Gabriel had mentioned something about a ritual, and so had Cas, but there had been no ritual, so how the hell had this even happened?

But none of that mattered anymore, because whatever he and Cas had done had been enough to create a nephilim, just as it had been enough to bond him and Cas. Dean still had no idea what was up with that, because Cas had mentioned a ritual was required for the bond as well, and he could only assume it was a different one from the one required to conceive a nephilim. What the hell was up with him and Cas, then? Why had it been so easy to bond them and get Dean  _freaking pregnant._

“Fuck,” he whispered through his clenched teeth, his fists closed at his sides.

Leaning against the side of the Impala, Dean closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the metal, his skull hitting the car's bodywork with a thud. The surface felt cold against his skin, thanks to the chilly night air, and it gave him some clarity in his thoughts, helping clear up his head somewhat, though obviously not enough.

At least he didn’t feel like passing out or throwing up anymore, so that was a plus.

He realized then that maybe storming out on Cas like he had hadn’t been his brightest moment nor the best idea he could have had, but he couldn’t regret it. He needed some time alone right now, and he was pretty sure Cas would understand that. At least he hoped so.

Still, the image of Cas' face, hurt and filled with rejection, did not fail to make his heart clench painfully inside his chest.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dean climbed onto the hood of the Impala, taking the exact same spot he did whenever he and Sam stopped at a clearing much like this one just to chill and watch the stars for a little while in between hunts, moments that seemed to be getting rarer and rarer lately. On a normal night, this would usually be the moment where Dean got the cooler out of the trunk and opened a beer, but he couldn’t exactly drink right now, could he?

With a jolt, Dean realized how close he had been to drinking so many times during the past few weeks. He hadn’t drunk one single drop of alcohol since Omaha, sure, but he had been pretty close to it. What if he had drunk, though? What if he had hurt the…?

Dean let his head fall to his hands with a strained sigh, his breath shaking as it left his mouth. He hadn’t drunk anything in weeks. He had been on a dry spell even before Omaha, and he had only drunk that night because Sam had almost died and Cas had been hurt and his life had been on the line because Dean had screwed up. He shouldn’t think about what would happen if he had been drinking after Omaha; he should just be glad that he hadn’t drunk, just as he should be glad he had been eating somewhat healthy for over a month now. He had a lot to thank Sam for, Dean realized. And Gabriel too, because Dean had been about to drink a few shots of whiskey at that bar if the archangel hadn’t turned his first glass into a shot of yogurt.

Swallowing drily, Dean let out yet another sigh as he looked up at the sky, watching the stars for a few minutes in silence. He felt a tiny bit calmer now, as surprising as that might be. He wasn’t having a mental breakdown anymore, at least; his heart had stopped beating like crazy against his ribcage and he could finally breathe normally again, so that was progress.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still freaking out on the inside.

Coherent thoughts, he told himself. He had to slow down his freaking mind, or else he wouldn't get anywhere. He had come out here to organize his thoughts, to try and wrap his mind around this, to think this whole thing through and hopefully not have another mental breakdown while doing it. He had to try to go through everything in his head, and he had to fucking calm down, preferably before he passed out or something, or had a heart attack.

Okay, so if he really was pregnant, and with a nephilim, no less, what the hell were they going to do now? How the hell was Dean supposed to act now? Was this a normal pregnancy or not? How long would it last? What kind of ‘adjustments’ would be made on his body? Cas hadn’t explained that, but then it wasn’t like Dean had given him the chance to before he freaking stormed out on the angel. He knew he must have a uterus or something close to that where the nephilim was right now (that sounded so fucking wrong in his head, Dean actually flinched), but what about the rest? How would the nephilim _get out_ of him when it was time?

Dean flinched once again, shuddering and pushing that thought away as quickly as it came. Not thinking about _that_ right now. Nope. Not happening.

Heaven had a rule against nephilims, though, didn’t it? Did that mean that all the angels up there would want to kill it? Did that mean they would come after him? And here he was, completely vulnerable and exposed in an empty field, in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Letting his head fall back forward, Dean ran his hand through his short hair, gripping it between his fingers and pulling at the strands, letting the pain ground him. No one had come for him until now, so maybe they had time to figure this out, maybe he wasn't in immediate danger.

Still, what if they did come for him? The last thing they needed right now was the entirety of Heaven after them  _again_. They did not need another take of what happened during the Apocalypse.

Dean could feel himself starting to get worked up again, this time for a whole different reason than before. His head was swirling with questions he didn’t have the answers to, with doubts that were threatening to swallow him whole, the fear of what might be ahead of him spilling into his insides. He was panicking again, he knew that, but what else was he supposed to do in a situation like this? On top of Cas’ fading Grace, the Mark of Cain in his arm and the soul bond, an unplanned pregnancy with a nephilim was without a doubt the cherry on top of the cake of craziness that was his life right now.

And what effects could the Mark have in this? Gabriel had mentioned that the Mark should be angry, Dean knew it was, but could it possibly try to…?

Dean actually shuddered again at that thought, but he did not manage to push it away. It weighed on his shoulders heavily, sitting in his stomach like a stone, a heavy rock of worry and dread.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but it must have been a while. The temperature dropped quickly, his breath soon enough becoming visible before his eyes, warm puffs of air spreading before his face every time he breathed out. It was when he started shivering that Dean realized he should head back to the cabin. He cursed himself in his head, because what a shitty parent he was already to be out here when it was this cold.

Before he could move, though, the sound of an engine in the distance made Dean tense up in his spot. He stared off into the distance in the direction of the sound, realizing that it was coming from the path he had taken to get here, but he couldn't see anything beyond the woods a few yards away in the same direction he had come from earlier. The rumble of the engine was loud, especially in such a quiet, abandoned place as this one, and it didn’t take long for Dean to realize just what car it belonged to. If that wasn’t enough for him to know who exactly was in the car, the way the soul bond began buzzing more strongly with every passing second should definitely be enough.

The Pimpmobile’s lights came into view soon enough, emerging from the woods and closing the distance between itself and the Impala slowly, being carefully guided through the bumpy path until it was parked just beside the Chevy.

Dean looked away as it stopped, glancing straight ahead at the woods as his ears caught sound of the engine being shut off, followed closely by the one of the front door of the Lincoln Continental being opened and closed shut, protesting with a loud, metallic whine. Dean caught movement by the corner of his eyes, but didn’t turn his head to watch, waiting until he felt the Impala dipping a little to the side under a new weight being added to its structure as Cas took a seat beside Dean on the hood of the car.

Cas didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did Dean. The silence was heavy, filled with words that remained unsaid between them when Dean knew they should be talking about this, but he couldn’t find it in him to be the one to speak first, so he waited for Cas to say something.

Eventually, the angel was the one to break the silence, his voice a low whisper, a rumble that sounded unusually loud in the dead quiet of the woods.

“You shouldn’t be out here in this cold.”

Dean swallowed drily, feeling yet another shiver working its way down his spine, a series of small spasms running through his muscles as his body shook. The meaning behind Cas’ words was crystal clear to Dean, but he didn’t comment on it, didn’t even allow the thought of it to truly register in his mind. It was still a little too much for him right now. “I know.”

Dean could see Cas shifting to his side, just as he heard the rustling of clothing, which he really didn't understand. He knew Cas hadn't gotten up, though he wasn’t sure what the angel was doing until he felt something heavy and warm being draped over his shoulders. Looking down at himself, he quickly realized what it was.

Cas’ trench coat.

Dean wanted to say something, maybe complain about how the way Cas just giving him his coat like this made Dean feel like a girl, but he knew that right now maybe that argument wasn’t entirely valid, not in their current situation. He wasn’t a girl, but he sure as hell felt like it. And Cas’ coat was so warm that Dean instinctively held it close to himself, letting the warmth engulf him and stop the shivering, easing away the ache in his muscles from the cold, so he didn't complain.

“Thanks,” he muttered instead, still not finding it in himself to look at Cas in the eye, not yet.

Cas didn’t respond, and silence took over once again.

This time, though, the pause wasn’t that long.

"How the hell did this happen, Cas?" The words were out of his mouth before he could really think them through, "I mean, how could that even...?"

"I don't know," was Cas' low, weak response. Honestly, Dean wasn't surprised by those words. "It should not have been possible, not like this. I did not..." Cas' voice died down, the words hanging in the air, and Dean soon convinced himself that the angel wouldn't speak again so soon.

He was wrong.

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

Well, that definitely hadn’t been something that Dean had been expecting to hear, so he finally turned his head to look at the angel, surprised at the heavy, pained look he found in Cas’ eyes. What he was apologizing for, though, was completely beyond Dean.

“About what?” Dean asked, frowning at the angel.

It was Cas who looked away this time, fixing his gaze down for some reason, avoiding Dean’s inquiring eyes. “None of this would have happened had I been stronger, but I wasn’t.”

And that was when it made sense.

Cas was freaking _apologizing_ for this, like Dean might be mad at him for any of it, like he _blamed_ Cas somehow. The single thought of it would be absolutely ridiculous if it wasn’t so painful.

“Cas, man, don’t you even dare apologize for this,” Dean shook his head at the angel, finding it hard to believe what he had just heard.

Cas looked up at Dean, his eyes so freaking apologetic it actually made Dean’s heart ache, “But, Dean, if I hadn’t—”

“Cas, don’t,” Dean almost felt bad for the way Cas looked surprised at his tone. Almost. “Don’t you dare apologize for this. This is not anyone’s _fault_ , it just happened. We were both consent, we both want to be together, and as far as I can tell, you didn’t know this could happen, just like I didn’t, so don’t go blaming yourself or apologizing, because I don’t wanna hear it, alright?”

“But earlier, at the cabin, you…” Cas swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he lowered his gaze once more, “The way you reacted, I thought you… I thought you hated me.” The angel’s voice grew lower, weaker as he talked, like it hurt him to say each word.

Now that he thought about it, Dean realized that maybe from Cas’ perspective the way he had just fled the cabin might have looked like something of the sort, but that hadn’t been Dean’s intention, not at all. He had just needed some air, and also some time alone. He hadn’t meant for Cas to think Dean hated him, not at all. He had freaked and bolted, that had really been all.

“Cas, I’ve already said this, I don’t hate you.” Dean reached out, cupping the angel’s face with his hand and lifting it so he could look at the blue eyes he dreamed so much about. Shaking his head, pouring every single ounce of his desire for Cas to believe him into his voice and hoping it was spilling into the bond as well, he whispered the same words he had said to the angel back at the cabin, “I could never hate you, Cas. I wish you'd understand that.” Those words were scary, Dean knew that, but they were truthful, as terrifying as that notion might be. He could never hate Cas, ever, he knew that as clearly as he knew he could never hate Sam either. “And I certainly don’t blame you for this. I’m not placing _any_ blame here, because this isn’t something to blame anyone for, you have to understand that. I just freaked out, Cas, that’s it. Honestly, I’m still kind of spooked.”

Cas’ eyes softened, and the angel let out a breath, a sigh that seemed to drag most of the tension in the angel’s body away. Dean actually saw the relief flood those eyes, the way Cas’ stiff body suddenly loosened before him, which allowed the hunter to realize with a start just how tense Cas had been since he had gotten here. More than that, Cas had been _scared_ , probably of Dean’s reaction to him showing up here. The angel had been sure Dean hated him, so that wasn’t surprising, but he had still come here looking for him, still had come to make sure he was alright.

“I was about to go after you when you left, but Gabriel did not allow me to. He said you probably needed some time alone.”

Dean nodded at that, the movement numb and a little strained. “Where’s Gabriel, anyway?” he asked before he could think better of it. He knew this might be a way of avoiding the real conversation here, but he still felt like stalling a little, and he was pretty sure he was entitled to.

“I’m not sure. We talked for barely a few minutes until he left. He told me a few things, but not nearly as much as there is to tell, I’m sure. He said he will be back tomorrow morning if you calm down enough by then.”

Nodding again, Dean looked down. He felt his throat clogging up as his next words stopped at his tongue. He knew he had to ask, he knew he had to _know_ these things, but it was still a struggle to actually say the words out loud. “What ‘things’ did he tell you?”

“Not too much. He said you should be present for anything else because he does not wish to repeat himself,” Cas actually sounded kind of annoyed at that, and Dean could almost hear the air quotes around those words. “Also,” Cas reached into his suit jacket, pulling out something that had Dean frowning, “He gave me this.”

Dean eyed the object with confusion. It was a weird talisman of sorts, like a charm with a small chord tied to it at the top, like the pendant of a necklace. The pendant was nothing like anything Dean had ever seen before, but he could tell it was made of wood just by looking at it. It was cylindrical, with something Dean assumed to be Enochian symbols carved around it in almost every inch of the surface.

“What the hell is that?”

Cas spun the pendant around in his hand, his own eyes careful as he examined it with frowned eyebrows. “Gabriel told me this would hide you from Heaven.”

It took a few seconds for the meaning behind Cas’ words to actually sink in, a wave of something very close to dread washing over Dean’s insides as his mind was suddenly tossed back to the exact train of thought that had been worrying him earlier. Could Heaven already know about the nephilim? What if they did? What if…?

“It’s still too early for any angel to tell, Dean,” Cas must have read Dean’s panic on his face, or maybe he felt it through the bond, Dean couldn’t know, “Only archangels can, and me, although the weakened state of my Grace did not allow me to notice it earlier. No one else should notice the pregnancy, especially not when Heaven is also not a full power, and definitely not this early. You’re only one month along.”

Dean nodded tightly, his jaw clenching and unclenching a few times. At least that was something to be relieved about. “But?”

Cas let out a heavy sigh. The angel looked tired, so much more than Dean had ever seen on him, and it was then that Dean realized how selfish he had been until now. He had been worried about himself, too wrapped up in his own internal turmoil to even wonder how Cas might be feeling about this whole thing. Dean wasn’t the only one affected by this, Cas was too, probably almost just as much as Dean was, except for the whole being pregnant thing. That one was all Dean. But Cas _was_ the father, anyway.

Did that technically make Dean the mother, then?

“Heaven will be able to sense the nephilim at some point,” Cas explained, his voice sounding heavier, his words dragging on his lips as he spoke, “They don’t necessarily need an archangel for that. Archangels are able to feel it when a nephilim is conceived, but a pregnancy can be detected by Heaven without an archangel once it’s been long enough. We probably have a few weeks still before that becomes a problem, maybe months, considering Heaven’s current situation, but it will happen eventually.”

“They’re gonna wanna kill it, aren’t they?” Dean was almost surprise by the pain he could hear in his own voice, his words almost angry and just a little edgy, laced with dread.

Cas hesitated a little before nodding. “They’ll kill the three of us if they find out about the nephilim.”

Well, wasn’t that just freaking awesome.

“Why?” Dean shook his head lightly as he asked, because why the hell couldn’t they catch a fucking break from everything? They already had enough to deal with without having to worry about the entirety of Heaven wanting to kill them.

“The Nephilim were outlawed by God Himself, Dean. The rogue angels that bred the Nephilim had twisted intentions. They wanted to use the Nephilim against Heaven if needed, like their own personal soldiers that were not controlled by the Host.”

“But we’re not creating a soldier.” They hadn’t even planned this pregnancy, they had’t even know it _could_ happen, for fuck’s sake. They didn’t have any secret agendas or any reason to try and attack Heaven, so why the hell should the angels want to kill them?

“That does not matter,” Cas shook his head, his tone almost grieving, “Heaven might have overlooked the nephilim I encountered with Metatron, but I assume that only happened because the Apocalypse was approaching, and then the war against Raphael followed. That and she must have had ways to hide herself over the years," He glanced down at the pendant once more, twisting it a few times in his hand, "Heaven was unorganized back then, unfocused even, but that has come to an end. No angel will accept a nephilim now, not when order in Heaven has finally been restored. The angels are fearful that anything could tip this newfound balance. They would not hesitate to eliminate what they believe to be a possible threat.”

It was almost startling how Cas could describe such a cool, calculating train of thought, but then again, Cas was an angel, and he had been a mindless douche for thousands of years before he actually started to think for himself. And just because he understood the way those winged dicks thought didn’t mean he agreed with them.

Letting his eyes fall back onto the amulet still in Cas’ hand, Dean asked, “Do you trust Gabriel?” Dean sure as hell didn’t, but he had a feeling Cas might, for whatever reason that Dean would most likely not understand, probably some lingering notion of family the angel might still feel toward Gabriel, as disfunctional as that idea might be.

Surprisingly, Cas shook his head lightly in a negative response, “Not entirely. But I do not think he could have bad intentions with us. He does not wish to have anything to do with Heaven, so it would make no sense for him to betray us.”

Yeah, that kind of made sense, but it wasn’t enough to make Dean feel better about the archangel. The guy was still a dick. He had put two people in a hospital just to put on a show, traumatized a child and was way too arrogant for Dean’s liking. And that was just in the past few days; Dean didn’t exactly need to go over everything the guy had done to him and his brother in the past with the Mystery Spot and the whole TV dimension thing. Sure, he had all but saved them back there in the Elysian Fields Hotel and given them the way to end the Apocalypse without the actual showdown happening, and he had promised to heal the people he had hurt here in Absarokee, but the good didn’t exactly erase the bad, and Gabriel _had_ gone into hiding back in the Apocalypse days, even though they could have used their help countless times over the past few years.

Even so, Dean couldn’t deny that if Gabriel really did want to help them here, he could be pretty useful. The dude was a freaking archangel, and if the entirety of Heaven really were to come to want them dead…

“Why would he help us, though? What does he get from this?” Because Gabriel just wouldn’t do this if he wouldn’t get anything out of it. At least that’s what Dean believed, anyway.

“I do not understand why exactly Gabriel came out of hiding now, after all the years he spent hiding away. He should have a reason.” So Cas was on the same page as Dean was on this one. Good.

Dean looked down, hugging the coat closer to his body. The temperature had dropped even more now, so much that even the heavy coat wasn’t enough to keep him completely warm. He shivered a little, not able to hold the back the sharp intake of breath that came with it, and he watched as Cas’ head snapped to the side sharply, worry flooding Dean through the bond.

“Dean, we should head back. You should not be out here in this cold.”

Dean knew Cas was right, but something else had occurred to him right now, a thought he hadn’t quite processed until then, but that suddenly hit him with full force.

“We can’t break the bond anymore, can we? Not even if we have to.”

That had been their agreement, after all. Cas would look for another way to break the bond, one that would keep them both alive for sure, and they would break it if Cas’ fading Grace got critical or if the Mark of Cain went overboard. But now, with the nephilim, Dean had a feeling that couldn’t happen the way they had planned it.

Cas looked down at that, his expression growing into something Dean couldn’t quite read. “No,” the angel whispered, the word sounding heavy and final on his tongue, “Breaking the bond would without a doubt kill the baby.”

 _Baby_.

It was the first time since their conversation with Gabriel that either of them had used that word. Dean wasn’t sure what it was about it, maybe the fact that hearing it just made everything much more _real_. He hadn’t been thinking about it, he had just been struggling to process the fact that he was pregnant with a nephilim, and that had been it. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that there was an actual _baby_ growing inside of him right now, no matter if a nephilim or not. An actual living being was currently being formed inside of his body.

He and Cas were going to have a _baby_.

A shaky breath escaped him without a warning, his head spinning a little. There was a baby growing in him right now, and the entirety of Heaven would want it dead if they knew about it, along with him and Cas. But how could—

Cas let out a shaky breath himself, and it was just then that Dean realized the angel had dropped his head, his face covered by his hands.

“Cas…?”

A low, weak voice replied, “I tried to break it.”

Dean frowned at the words, confused not only by then, but also by the way the angel was hunched on over himself, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. What—

Oh.

_Oh._

Dean shook his head, because no, he wouldn’t let Cas blame himself for this. “Cas, you didn’t know.” He had no idea, hadn't even imagined it was possible, so how could he have known?

Cas raised his head from his hands, but still didn’t look up at Dean, didn’t allow their gazes to meet, instead focusing his eyes on some spot ahead of them. “That does not change the fact that I almost…” A small, weird choking sound came out of Cas’ throat, and he let his head hang once more, a shudder visibly running through his entire body.

Dean scooted closer to Cas then, trying to push all of his own internal turmoil aside for the time being because Cas needed him not to freak out right now. So he swallowed the lump in his throat and lifted his hand to run it lightly over Cas’ hair. “Cas… You can’t blame yourself for this, man. You didn’t know.”

Cas had no reaction to the words, so Dean just sat there, letting his fingers move through the angel’s dark hair and hoping it would be enough to calm him down.

Of course, the silence was the last thing he needed right now, just as Cas' own breakdown was spilling strongly through the bond and shattering Dean's own calmness, because soon enough his thoughts were wandering and he was back into a state of something very close to panic as his situation really started to sink in on his mind.

He was pregnant with a nephilim, Cas’ Grace was burning out and the Mark of Cain was trying to turn him into a demon every minute of every day, and now they couldn’t break the soul bond if either of them came too close to death because it would kill the baby for sure.

How the hell were they supposed to fix this? What the hell could they even…? How could they...?

“Cas, what the hell are we going to do?” His voice was strangled, just a strained whisper, but it was so filled with despair it was surprising even to Dean himself.

Two strong arms circled around Dean’s body without a warning, pulling the hunter towards him. Dean complied with no resistance, allowing the angel to pressing him against his chest, burying his face into the crook of Cas’ neck while Cas rested his own chin on Dean’s head. It was just then that Dean realized he was shaking, but this time not entirely from the cold.

“I don’t know,” Cas whispered against Dean’s hair, the angel’s voice wavering and low, weak even, and it terrified him to realize that Cas was just as lost as he was.

That was definitely not what Dean had wanted to hear.

***~*~*~*~***

Castiel could not sleep.

His body was tired, he could feel as much, but his mind was completely alert as he lay in bed, staring up at the worn, clearly not tended to ceiling of the motel room and holding a sleeping Dean against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around the hunter, like attempting to merge their bodies into one. The proximity made him feel better, calmed him somewhat. The way he could feel Dean’s heart beating against his side, calm in the human’s slumber, the opposite of what it had been when the human had been awake, the bond buzzing lightly between them while Dean was unconscious—it was all soothing, although not enough for him to actually succeed in any attempt of falling asleep.

They were not safe here, not when this room was not even warded. However, returning to town had seemed like the best option once they left that field, because the only thing between them and Absarokee had been a ten minute drive, against the one hour drive back to the cabin. They still had a motel room rented here, and some of their things were still in here, so it had seemed much more convenient to simply return to the motel for the night. Also, Cas had really wished to get Dean out of the cold as fast as possible, and the drive to the cabin would take too long for that. Such a prolonged exposure to low temperatures could not be good for the baby.

Dean hadn't resisted, fortunately, and a few minutes later they had both been inside the motel room. Castiel had then suggested that Dean should have something to eat and go to sleep, for the exhaustion had been clear on every aspect of the human's stance, from his face to his movements. Dean, however, had protested, saying that he doubted he could do either, which honestly had not been much of a surprise. Castiel had been adamant, and thankfully Dean had given in eventually, so soon enough the hunter had been taking a shower while the angel went out to find them food, quickly deciding to go to the same diner they had eaten at the night before. It had taken him a while to find something Dean might not have a bad reaction to, for he knew his nausea could easily be triggered, but he ended up opting for the same serving they'd had the previous night, for it had apparently not been enough to make Dean sick, and the hunter had complimented the steak a few times during their meal. He was disappointed, however, to find out they did not have pie, having just run out of it.

He made another stop at a small convenience store on his way back to the motel, recalling that Dean had mentioned having stopped at it once. He left it carrying an apple pie and a small container of cream cheese in his hands.

Once he was back at the motel, Dean had eaten greedily, even though he had insisted he had not been hungry earlier. He was a little surprised to spot the cream cheese, and did his best to hide a smile that Castiel still saw clearly. He had also been very happy to see the pie, and had quickly proceeded to eat two slices while Castiel took a quick shower, mostly to try and drain the tension from his body, however to no avail.

Dean had started to yawn soon after he was done eating, and there had been no resistence from the human about going to sleep.

The hunter had been asleep barely a minute after they'd laid down on the bed, which had left Castiel in his current situation—awake and restless, with no hope of falling asleep any time soon, both because he refused to and because it seemed fairly improbable he would manage it if he tried.

Closing his eyes, Castiel let his head fall back onto the pillow with a heavy sigh.

A nephilim.

Dean was carrying a nephilim.

Even now, a few hours after Castiel had learned that fact, the angel still found it a struggle to process that knowledge.

It should have been impossible. The conception of a nephilim required a ritual, a very complicated one, just as forming a mating bond between a human and angel should. But for some reason he could not fathom, he and Dean hadn’t needed one single ritual to manage both things at once. Castiel could not understand how, but it had happened—he was mated to Dean, who was now carrying their offspring.

The single thought of it was overwhelming.

The sight of car headlights peeking through the closed curtains of the motel room and the loud sound of an engine made Cas tighten his arms around Dean even more, feeling his entire body tense as he eyed the door wearily. He didn’t allow his muscles to relax again until he finally sensed the newcomers were human, probably here to check into the motel for the night, which meant they were not angels that were here to try and kill him, Dean and their child.

Castiel knew that maybe he was being paranoid. Dean was now only a month into the pregnancy, so there was no way for Heaven to sense the nephilim this early, but Castiel still worried. He knew part of it were instincts, something he could not quite control, the way he could only make himself calm down by burying his nose into Dean’s hair and breathing the hunter’s scent in, how the only way Castiel could find to clear up his thoughts was to pay attention to Dean’s calm heartbeat against his own ribcage, how the only thing grounding him right now was the warmth of Dean’s body pressed against his own.

But he could not help it. Every single cell of his body, every ounce of energy of his very being was telling him that all that mattered was protecting his mate and child; to make sure they were both safe.

Castiel had never expected to feel any of this. He had never desired to be mated before, and he had been pretty much glad to have only been chosen as one of the angels to be mated and have a fledging once over the course of his existence, and even more so that Heaven had accepted his decline that time. But then again, he had never expected to rebel against Heaven and fall in love with a human.

And even if this was not allowed to happen by the eyes of Heaven, Castiel found that he did not feel guilty, not even a slightest bit of regret. He knew his past self would have been shocked to know that, would be completely apalled by the situation Castiel currently found himself in, but the angel himself knew he had changed a lot over the past few years, so much he had grown not to think of Heaven as his home anymore, especially after his last conversation with Hannah days ago while he had still been hiding away in the cabin, before Dean had found him there.

Castiel had reached Hannah in Heaven with a spell, and once she had been on Earth, he had contacted her through a phone call, asking her for a favor. His intention had been to ask her to check on Dean in Colorado, but she had instantly admitted the worst and assumed Castiel had been referring to Metatron, which had been the reason he had last reached her for. Before Castiel had had the chance to correct her, however, Hannah had told him something he had not been aware of until then.

He was not allowed in Heaven.

The single idea of it had sounded simply absurd in his head by then. After everything he had done for Heaven, after everything he had sacrificed for them, they had still turned their backs at him when he needed them. Dean had told him several times before that the angels had never done anything for him, but Castiel had been too blind to see the actual truth in those words.

How could he see Heaven as his family now? What kind of family would turn their back at him when he most needed them? What kind of family would forsake one of their own like this?

_Family._

In spite of his current situation, Castiel felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, pulling it upwards even without his consent. Looking down, Castiel watched Dean as the hunter slept, the man’s face peaceful and calm in his slumber, such a contrast from the sight Castiel usually met when the human was awake. Castiel wondered if this expression would ever be worn while Dean was awake, but the angel had his doubts about it.

Carefully not to wake Dean, Castiel moved his hand over Dean’s side and under the hem of the shirt the hunter was wearing. The angel paused his hand once it was resting against the hunter’s stomach, pressing his palm just barely against the warm skin, feeling it soft under his touch. There was no bump, no resistance against the contact, although that was exactly what Castiel had expected to feel. Dean was still too early into the pregnancy for there to be anything to feel, anyway, no physical hints whatsoever.

And yet, Castiel could not fight the smile that still lingered in his lips.

In there, was growing a child, _their_ child.

Castiel had always found the notion of a life creating another like this fascinating, beautiful even, so much he would always find himself staring whenever he came across a pregnant female, especially a human. To see a body being formed inside another, a soul blooming into existence, was one of the most beautiful sights Castiel had experience since coming to Earth.

So knowing that Dean was carrying, that they had created a life together, that their child was being formed in Dean’s womb in that very moment, was the best feeling Castiel had ever experienced.

Closing his eyes, Castiel let a few tendrils of his Grace spread through the bond, spilling into Dean's body slowly. Dean's soul, unlike what any human soul would do before the direct contact with an Angel's Grace, which would be recoil in alarm, embraced the contact, twirling around Castiel's Grace like it was a part of its own, merging the two together to a point where it was almost impossible to tell them apart. Dean sighed in his sleep, though he did not sound bothered, instead content, as he nuzzled Castiel's neck in his sleep, shifting slightly on the mattress. Being careful not to wake the hunter, though, Castiel guided his Grace carefully, until he found what he had been looking for.

It was hard to spot it, especially when he was not even close to full power, so it was really not surprise he had not seen it before, hadn't noticed it was even there.

There was a bright spot of light that was different from the rest. It was surrounded by Dean's soul and Castiel's Grace, and it held such similarities to both, and yet it was so clearly different, so clearly its own entity, the beginning of a soul that had just begun to form. It was beautiful, perfect, and Castiel could not help but smile again as he felt it, felt its pure energy, strong already and yet so vulnerable as it had yet to fully develop.

Extracting his Grace from Dean slowly, Castiel opened his eyes, glad to find that the human was still peacefully asleep. Some of his Grace still remained in him, of course, because of the soul bond, but not more than what Dean was used to since they'd bonded. He kept his hand on Dean's stomach, though, for some reason not finding the will to move it, especially as his mind soon seemed to travel into less pleasant territories.

Castiel knew they were in a very complicated situation. Although he had not wished to do it, Castiel would have looked for a way to break the mating bond if it meant saving Dean’s life from his quickly fading Grace.

Now, however, breaking the bond was not a choice anymore.

The nephilim required contact with both its parents’ essences to develop, meaning the human’s soul and the angel’s Grace. The only way for that to be possible was for the pair to maintain a soul bond. If the bond was severed, the nephilim would not survive. The soul bond would have to remain for their child to live.

The perspective of being bonded to Dean, of remaining mated to him, would have been joyful at any other time, but there was nothing joyful about the several variables working against them, putting both their lives, and in consequence their child's, into a countdown that Castiel could find no way to stop.

The single thought that he had almost broken the bond, that he had attempted to severe the very connection was keeping their child alive, still haunted his thoughts. Of course he had not been aware of the pregnancy, had not even imagined it was possible at the time, but how could he not feel the weight of it in his mind, taste the guilt in his tongue? He could have _killed_ their _child_ without knowing. He could have—

Dean shifted in his sleep once more, a low whine escaping his throat, which could only be understood as a sign of discomfort, a low, unconscious complaint that something was bothering his rest and he buried his face even further in the crook of Castiel’s neck.

Castiel must have been projecting his worries and guilt through the bond, he realized.

With a heavy sigh, Castiel willed those thoughts away from the time being, locking them away as he focused his attention solely on the sound of Dean’s calm breathing. He should not disturb Dean’s sleep, not when the human needed to rest, not when he was resting for both himself and the baby. He could think about those things tomorrow, would discuss them with Gabriel once Dean was awake again and maybe some of his worries would be soothed. And although maybe it would not be completely prudent to listen to Gabriel, to trust the archangel after everything he had put the Winchesters and the seraph himself through over the past few years, Castiel realized he was very short on options to not listen to what his brother had to say.

He could only hope Gabriel could be trusted.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean woke up confused.

He wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there as he opened his eyes, all he knew was that he had just had one of the freakiest dreams of his entire life. He squinted against the brightness of the room around him, feeling the sunlight hitting his face and making his eyes burn with discomfort, forcing him to squeeze them closed once more. He felt tired, his muscles heavy and stiff, though the warmness that surrounded his entire being felt pretty good, engulfing him in some sort of cocoon.

Oh, and he really needed to puke.

He was making a run for the bathroom in no time, losing his balance for a few seconds for getting up so quickly, but fortunately he did make it to the toilet without falling or at least tripping on the way there. The fact that he made it there _before_ something came out of his mouth was also a very welcome plus.

He was panting over the toilet a few seconds later, eyes closed, grimacing at the terrible taste in his mouth and feeling the comforting hand that was rubbing over his back in small, soothing circles. Of course, that was exactly when it hit him with full force, the realization that the images that still lingered in his mind were nothing but very real memories, causing his breath the leave him at once and come out like a strangled cough, or maybe like a choke.

It hadn’t been a dream.

 _Fuck_.

“You know,” His voice sounded terrible, like he had tried to gargle with rocks and rubbed sand paper against the inside of his throat just for good measure, “Of all the crazy things I’ve had to deal with in my life, I never thought morning sickness would ever be one of them.”

Cas didn’t respond, so Dean looked up to the side, unsure of what to expect from the angel at this point.

Cas’ expression was heavy as he watched Dean, his gaze almost sorrowful, filled with so many different emotions Dean had no idea how to even begin to read them. It was like there was a shadow over the angel’s face, his features darkened and filled with so much worry it was almost unsettling. He looked completely worn out, just so obviously _exhausted_ that Dean had to actually do a double take. He didn’t think he had ever seen Cas look this tired before.

“Did you even sleep at all?”

Cas swallowed, before shaking his head subtly, like even that took too much energy from him, “No.”

Well, didn’t that make Dean feel so much better. “Cas, you shouldn’t…”

“This room isn’t safe, Dean,” Cas replied, his tiredness all the more evident in his voice, “I had to keep watch over you.”

Closing his eyes, Dean let his head fall onto his arm, shielding his face from that heavy gaze, not really finding it in himself to argue with Cas right now. He wanted to point out that he wasn’t the only one that needed rest right now, that nothing changed the fact that Cas had almost died three days ago and still needed to recharge a little more. But Dean doubted saying anything would get them anywhere right now, and honestly, he was also unnaturally tired, even though he had probably gotten more than just a few hours of sleep that night. He just felt worn somehow, like a lingering tiredness that refused to go away no matter how long he rested; a tiredness that did not feel completely physical.

The hand was back to moving on his back, and the calm motions grounded Dean a little. He felt his muscles ease into the touch, and he sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

Dean swallowed, but regretted it a moment later when he remembered that he had just thrown up. Ugh, he was getting nauseous again, great. “Peachy,” he couldn’t help but groan, the nausea coming back in strong waves, and a moment later he was emptying his stomach yet again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Dean scowled at himself for letting Cas watch this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to tell the angel to leave him to deal with this on his own. It wasn’t like Cas would hear him if he tried, anyway.

Fortunately, the nausea went away after that, so Dean didn’t feel the need to puke out his guts in front of the angel a third time that morning.

Cas followed his every movement as the hunter flushed the toilet and stepped over to the sink to rinse his mouth a little, lingering by his side like he feared Dean might collapse at any second and he needed to make sure he was close enough to support him if necessary. Dean knew there was no need for Cas to act like that, but he also could not bring himself to point that out to the angel. If Cas felt like he needed this, if it made him feel better somehow, then Dean would let him have it. Still, it made Dean feeling extremely self-conscious, especially as the angel proceeded just stand there watching him to make sure he was fine while the hunter threw some water on his face and brushed his teeth, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Do you think you can eat?” Cas asked once Dean was done in the bathroom as they walked back into the room.

Dean shook his head lightly. He didn’t feel like throwing up again, but he really didn’t feel like pushing his luck, and somehow he just knew that his stomach would start acting up again if he tried to eat, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was have yet another run to the bathroom.

“I doubt that’s a good idea, Cas.”

Cas seemed to weigh those words for a moment, clearly not pleased with them. “We can buy breakfast to go and go back to the cabin. If you feel hungry, you can eat there.” The angel’s eyes grew softer, his tone almost pleading as he added, “You shouldn’t skip a meal, Dean.”

Dean closed his eyes, letting out a breath through his teeth as the very obvious meaning behind those words weighed down on his thoughts. Cas had a point, he knew that, but this whole thing was still a little too much for him to process. He was still having trouble with thinking that he wasn’t eating only for himself now. Still, yet again, he doubted arguing with the angel would get him anywhere, and anyway, Cas also had to eat. “Alright, we’ll pick up some breakfast on our way to the cabin, then.”

Castiel seemed pleased with the response.

Dean took a moment to call Sam before they left the motel room. His brother didn’t pick up, and Dean knew maybe he should feel bad, but he was honestly kind of relieved. He still didn’t think he could handle talking to his brother, and he had only tried to call Sam once so his brother wouldn’t tear him a new one for not doing it. Sam had been worried about the hunt the night before and Dean didn’t want to give him a heart attack by leaving him hanging, or worse, have Sam _show up_  here because he hadn’t heard a word from Dean or Cas, so Dean found it better to call him.

The only part he had been dreading about making the call was the fact that he would have to give Sam _some_ kind of explanation on the hunt, which meant telling him that Gabriel was alive and kicking, but he’d have to find a way to leave everything out of the story in some way that would be convincing enough for Sam to buy it, because ‘Hey, bro, I’m pregnant with a forbidden half-angel baby, and by the way, it’s Cas’, we’re together now, and it's very, _very_ gay’ just wasn’t something Dean could say out loud. He still wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to tell Sam about it, or even when he would actually do it, but he sure as hell knew he would have to do it in person and definitely not over the phone.

And most definitely not any time soon, because Dean himself was still trying to wrap his mind around this whole thing.

But since Sam didn’t answer, all Dean did was leave his brother a voice message telling him that he was still alive, that his brother had no reason to worry because he and Cas were perfectly fine, that the hunt was dealt with and that he would fill Sam in later on the details.

It was about half hour after making the call when they were headed to the cabin, Dean driving the Impala and Cas following him with the Lincoln very closely behind as they made their way through the dirt road up the mountain.

Dean was actually glad they were driving separate cars. He’d realized it while he’d been sitting in the Impala while Cas went into the diner to get them food, the fact that Cas would take the food with him in the Pimpmobile, which would keep the inside of the Impala free of any smells that might trigger any more nausea in Dean. He was still trying to figure out this whole morning sickness thing, because he really had no idea what kinds of food he should avoid for now on, and he really did not want to throw up in his car.

He realized his decision had been right the moment he and Cas walked inside the cabin as Dean finally caught a whiff of the bags Cas was carrying. It wasn’t enough to make him throw up again, but the nausea was back, so he doubted he would manage to eat anything right now.

It felt weird being back in the cabin, although Dean knew there was no actual reason to. If he was being honest, after last night, everything just seemed a little odd and weird in his eyes. He still felt like he was looking at the world through someone else’s eyes, like everything he was going through wasn’t happening _to him_.  He felt distant, numb, like everything that was happening around him was just this weird echo of a situation that wasnt quite real.

Dean went to leave his duffel in the bedroom, before coming back into the living room. He began to take off his leather jacket, placing it on the back of the couch and sitting down on it, watching as Cas looked through the brown paper bags containing breakfast he had placed on the kitchen table, along with the container holding two thermal cups, from which warm steam and the strong smell of coffee emanated.

And that sight, right there, felt like a bucket of icy cold water being thrown over him, a thought striking him out of nowhere and punching the air out of his lungs.

He had drunk coffee all throughout the past few weeks. Not too much, just about a mug a few mornings, but still, pregnant women couldn’t drink coffee, could they? What if he hurt the…?

“Dean?”

The outright panic in Cas’ words was what snapped Dean out his own panic induced trance, and it was only then that he realized Cas had moved from the kitchen and was now sitting on the couch right in front of him. The angel’s hands came up to grasp his head, lifting and holding it in place while Cas’ worried blue eyes filled his vision. He could feel Cas’ fear through the bond, so potent it was almost disorientating.

“What is it? Are you in pain?”

Dean swallowed, mentally cursing himself for worrying Cas like this, although he wasn’t calm himself.

Weakly, he shook his head. “No, Cas, I…” He swallowed again, hating just how struggled his voice came out, “I drank coffee. Like, more than once, these past few weeks. And I mean, could that, did it…?” He couldn’t even get the words out. Damn it, what if he…? But Cas had bought coffee, and he wouldn't have done it if it could be harmful in any way. Or maybe he didn't know. Maybe coffee could be harmful. What if it was? What if...?

Cas looked down, like he needed to think about his answer, which definitely didn’t make Dean calmer. “I’m not sure what the limit to caffeine intake during pregnancy is, but I do know it is allowed in small doses, Dean. If you did not have more than a mug or a cup every few days, I don’t think it did any harm. I would not have bought you coffee if I believed it could do any harm.”

Dean paused, letting Cas' words soothe him. Still, he founnd himself recalling every single time he’d drank coffee in the past three weeks. He hadn’t had it every day, he remembered that, and he also remembered Sam telling him that too much coffee wasn’t considered healthy (as if he hadn’t know that before), so he’d hadn’t had more than a mug whenever he’d had it.

“Alright,” Dean breathed out, closing his eyes, “I didn’t have more than a mug, and definitely not every day.” That was good. He hadn’t screwed up already.

“If it will set your mind at ease, we can ask Gabriel about it when he shows.”

Dean still wasn’t sure if anything Gabriel said would set his mind at ease, since he still did not trust the archangel at all, but he still ended up nodding in response, albeit weakly. Cas must have sensed his hesitation, because he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Dean’s. The human closed his eyes, letting the closeness and the buzzing to the soul bond calm him. Letting out a sigh, he leaned into the palm that remained pressed against the cheek, savoring the tender touch of the thumb brushing lightly against his skin, a gesture that he knew was meant to be reassuring, but that also felt incredibly intimate.

Cas’ lips were brushing against his in a brief, gentle peck, and Dean sighed contently, already feeling more calm. It was surprising just what an effect Cas had on him, but definitely not unwelcome.

“At least you won’t have to wait long on that one.”

They both jumped at the sudden sound, Cas instantly standing as they both turned around to spot none other than Gabriel sitting on the armchair to the side, his legs crossed as he leaned back onto the cushions, looking like he thought he owned the place or something.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “How the hell do you do that? I thought angels couldn’t teleport anymore.”

Gabriel shrugged, “They can’t because they literally Fell from Heaven and their wings burned to featherless crisps. They’re useless now. I was on Earth when Metadouche did the spell, so I didn’t Fall with them. My wings never burned.”

Well, wasn’t that convenient.

“By the way, Cassie is right,” Gabriel continued before either of them could comment, “Coffee is not off-limits for you, as long as you don’t go overboard with it. One mug every day is perfectly fine. Alcohol, though, is _definitely_ a no for you.”

The memory of Gabriel turning his whiskey into yogurt back at that bar instantly came to mind, but Dean chose to focus on another thought that occurred to him, the one that made his muscles tense. “Just how often do you do that? Eavesdrop and pretty much lurk around without us knowing about it?” Because Gabriel surely hadn’t been in the room when Dean had brought up the coffee, but he had heard the conversation anyway. And judging by everything that had happened in this town during the past few days, the only conclusion Dean could reach was that Gabriel had been somehow spying on them, at least to some degree, and that was just creepy and wrong.

“Well, I haven’t been ‘lurking around’ enough to see anything interesting, if that’s what you’re worried about, pretty boy,” Gabriel waggled his brows and winked, which had Dean glaring at him, though he could feel his face heating up without his consent. Dean saw Cas shift to his side, and he could only imagine the deadly glare Cas must be giving the archangel then. he surely felt his irritation to the bond. “Oh, and by the way, just in case you’re wondering, you have the green light for that. Completely harmless, and actually pretty healthy, too. Just don’t go overboard, if you get what I mean.” The bastard fucking winked _again_ , and Dean suddenly felt like crawling into a hole and hide forever, because Gabriel was the last creature on Earth he would ever want to talk about his and Cas’ sex life.

“Gabriel, you said there were matters you wished to discuss with both of us.” Leave it to Cas to sound so calm and professional after a comment like that, although there was a small edge to his voice that Dean did not fail to notice, one that bordered on irritation, which the angel was just barely able to conceal.

“Oh, don’t be so serious, Cassie,” Gabriel smirked at Cas, but his face fell a little when he noticed the way Cas had no reaction to his words whatsoever but an annoyed frown. The archangel sighed at that, rolling his eyes, “Fine, fine, I’ll be boring, then.”

Dean let out a huff. “If by boring you mean helpful, then please, go ahead.”

Gabriel gave him an annoyed look, but didn’t reply as he leaned forward on his seat, his posture tenser and straighter than before in a clear change of attitude. “Now, let’s go over yesterday’s class, shall we?” His gaze bounced back and forth between the two of them as he spoke, “Dean has been bearing the Mark of Cain for about a year now. Castiel is running on stolen Angel Grace that is constantly running out. You two did the do four weeks ago in Omaha and Cassie here lost control of his Grace and formed a soul bond between the two of you without meaning to, which also happened to conceive a hybrid child that if discovered, would be wanted dead by the entirety of Heaven. Did I get it right?”

This time Dean did chance a glance over at Cas, and honestly, he didn’t think he’d ever seen the angel look so annoyed. “Yes, Gabriel, that is essencially our current situation.”

Ignoring the clear annoyance in Cas' voice, Gabriel leaned back on his seat again. “Now, first things first, I’m pretty sure you guys want to know about the nephilim situation.”

“Cas said there were some things you wanted to tell us.”

Gabriel nodded, “Indeed. Firstly, I know you’re probably wondering about how this pregnancy can even work.”

Yeah, that would be pretty nice, actually. Instead of pointing that out, however, Dean chose to simply nod in response.

“Well, it’s quite simple, actually. Cas’ Grace reached out to Dean’s soul and bonded you two, and in the process, that interaction formed a child.”

“Although it should not be possible, Gabriel, you know that,” Cas all but pleaded for Gabriel to at least agree with him, “Not without a ritual, not under these circumstances.”

Gabriel let out a sigh at that, his face growing oddly serious, almost sympathetic. “It should be impossible, Cassie, I know that. Just like I know Dean should not even be conscious and upright right now, for that matter.”

Dean frowned, “What, I shouldn’t be conscious?”

“The humans that bore the original Nephilim had the soul bonds required for it forced onto them. They could barely handle the direct connection to Angel Grace, and once the ritual to create a nephilim was performed and they were with child, most slipped into a state that resembled a coma.”

Dean swallowed drily, looking down at his hands. “And the ones that didn’t?”

“Slipped into something close enough to a coma, with a few glimpses of consciousness from time to time, but those times were mostly delirious.”

“Then how did this happen, Gabriel?” Castiel sounded impatient, almost pleading.

Gabriel paused, his face bearing a look Dean could not entirely read as he stared at Cas, like weighing his answer in his mind before he spoke. Definitely not a good sign. “I’m not sure,” the archangel finally answered, his voice oddly low, lacking the usual energy that seemed to impregnate his every word, “Of course, the creation of a nephilim didn’t require any sort of sexual encounter between angel and human, so that is one of the factors that make your case and theirs different, although that alone shouldn’t be enough for this to happen.”

“Then what else?” Dean asked, “What else is different?”

Gabriel was already shaking his head. “That’s the thing, Dean-o, _everything's_ different. Do you think it was ever normal for a human to even know an angel? To get romantically involved? The original Nephilim were created through two rituals, one to bond the pair and the other to conceive, no sexual involvement between the angel and the human whatsoever. The humans were nothing more than a freaking incubator. And even that shouldn't be enough. Not every angel that does end up having sex with a human bonds with them, much less gets them pregnant. A human soul should not be able to allow or handle any of this, that's what the rituals are for. This, a natural interspecies mating, a natural conception of a hybrid, has _never_ happened before.”

Dean's mind went back a few years at that, reminding him of the time Cas had mentioned that they shared a... How had he put it? A 'more profound bond'. He had to actually hold back an amused huff at the memory, because it kind of fit their situation a little too well right now. He also remembered how those three little words had kept him up a few nights, trying to guess what the angel could have meant by them. He hadn’t yet come to terms with his own feelings at the time, too, so that hadn’t made it any less confusing or nerve wrecking.

Gabriel's voice soon brought him back from his reverie.

“And anyway, I’m not sure that should be the focus of this conversation. The truth is, you guys are bonded and Dean is carrying a nephilim, and now we gotta deal with it. But first of all, you guys need to understand how this pregnancy will work, especially you, Dean-o.”

Dean nodded numbly, because although he still wasn't sure if he could handle what he would be hearing, he knew he had to know more. “Go on,” he requested.

“Firstly, your body has gone through a few changes. You right now have something close to a uterus where the nephilim is, as you might have already guessed.”

Dean held back a wince at those words, though he only managed it because he had already thought about this before, so he hadn’t exactly been caught off guard. Still, it was freaking _terrifying_ to think about it, so much he shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

“Alright,” Dean leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his legs. It took a little effort to sound calm and mostly unaffected, but he managed it pretty well, “What else?”

“Your hormones will also be pretty crazy, mostly because you shouldn’t even be producing some of them right now, since you’re a male. But the pregnancy requires them, even if your body isn’t used to them, so you might get pretty extreme mood swings. The hormones shouldn’t make too much more of a difference in any other aspect, though, so don’t worry.”

Dean didn’t even want to think about that one, so he just nodded, rubbing a hand over his stubble as he waited for Gabriel to continue. He _really_ didn’t want to think about producing women’s hormones right now. He actually didn’t want to think about that at all.

“Also, I’m pretty sure you’ve been getting the morning sickness already.”

“Only every fucking day,” Dean groaned, “I practically can’t eat. Almost everything makes me nauseous, and not just in the morning.”

“That’s perfectly normal, actually, although I’m guessing highly inconvenient,” Understatement of the year, Dean’s mind instantly provided, “That will stick around for a few months, too, so I suggest you find things that don’t make you nauseous, because you can’t just not eat at all. And speaking of eating, you’ll need to change your diet a little.”

“More than I already have?” Dean couldn’t see how healthier he could eat, to be honest. He was eating _salad_ , for fuck’s sake, what else did the world want from him?

“Nothing too serious, I assure you,” Gabriel lifted his hands once more, “Just a few basics. No alcohol, preferably little coffee, and try to keep a healthy diet. The less junk, chemical-filled stuff you can find the better. Also, you’ll probably need to take a few additional vitamins once in a while.”

Dean nodded lightly at everything, although one look to the side told him that, judging by the concentated frown on the angel's face, Cas was probably making a mental list of everything himself, probably right down to every single syllable Gabriel was saying.

“Also, you’ll need to better your sleeping patterns. Four hours a night is a lot less than you’ll need.”

Well, that wouldn’t exactly be a problem. Dean had been sleeping quite a bit lately, mostly because he would feel terrible if he didn’t. “I’ve been needing a lot more sleep than that lately. I just feel tired for no reason most of the time.”

“And that’s your body telling you that you’re not resting for only yourself anymore.” Dean swallowed, looking down at those words, the weight of them making it hard for him to look at the archangel in the eye as their meaning floated in the air around them. Gabriel then turned on his seat to look at Cas, “You too, little bro. You shouldn’t pull all-nighters very often. You need rest too, and don’t try to tell me otherwise. You're linked, Cassie, so whatever you do has an influence too, you know that.”

Cas looked down at those words, but didn’t comment. He didn’t look happy, that was obvious, but Dean was glad that he seemed to accept the words without fight.

“Also,” Gabriel turned back to Dean, “I feel like I should advise you against going out to kill anything out there, if you get what I mean.”

Dean’s blood ran cold at the implications of those words, because he _had_ gone hunting after Omaha. “I did go hunting a couple of weeks ago,” the words felt heavy on his tongue, sour. The same panic from before when he remembered the coffee washed over him, because _fuck_ , what if he…? “But I didn’t get tossed around,” Dean breathed out, “I mean, it was a pretty weak job, just a nest of vamps. I didn’t even need to fight a lot.”

Gabriel nodded slowly at that. “Just don’t risk it again. I’m not saying no to hunting, I’m just saying you should avoid getting tossed around too much.”

“No.”

Dean looked to the side once more, taken aback by the completely final tone in Cas’ voice. The look of complete resolution on the angel’s face was also a surprise, and it was just then that Dean realized just how _tense_ had Cas grown all of a sudden, his muscles stiff and posture completely straight.

“Cas…”

“No, Dean,” Cas turned to look at him then, his blue eyes hard as they met Dean’s startled green ones, “No hunting. There’s no discussion on this.”

Dean opened his mouth, but closed it before he could utter out a single word, since it was obvious anything he said would fall onto deaf ears right now. He knew a lost battle when he saw one, and the look on Cas’ face already told him enough to know there was no way he would win this one. He just had no idea what he would tell Sam if his brother found a hunt, how he would turn it down, but he decided they would discuss this later, preferably when Gabriel wasn't present in the room.

“Anything else I need to know?” Dean was quick to change the subject, “Like, I don’t know, how will the birth even go? I don’t have any… lady parts for the baby to come out of.”

Gabriel waved a hand in dismissal, “Oh, don’t worry about that, Dean-o. Everything in its own time, that’s a year from now. Well, eleven months right now.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose up to his forehead. He definitely hadn’t heard that right. “A _year_?”

Gabriel shrugged like it was no big deal. “Oh, yeah, male pregnancy of a nephilim? 52 weeks, which is about twelve months. Did I forget to mention that?”

Well, wasn’t that just freaking _awesome_.

“Now,” Gabriel stood up from the armchair then, before either Dean or Cas could even say anything in response or demand any more answers from him (although deep down Dean knew that would lead to nothing), “Onto more pressing issues. I see three problems currently making this situation a little more complicated than it should be: the Mark of Cain, Cassie’s fading Grace and, of course, our beloved family throwing a fit and killing you both before the nephilim can even be born.”

Well, wasn’t it nice to have a reminder of all of that.

“Sadly, I’m not sure what exactly we can do about our family, little bro, but I’m pretty sure we can leave that one stewing for now. They cannot sense the soul bond, only if someone either looked into your Grace, Cassie, or Dean’s soul, so that shouldn’t be problem as long as you don’t give them a reason to want to do that, and if you do, well, don’t let them do it. The only thing that could alert them is the nephilim, but they won’t sense the pregnancy until Dean’s about three or four months in, so there’s no need to worry about it for now.”

Dean felt his blood run cold once more as a thought occurred to him at those words, his heart leaping and all but trying to make a break for it up his throat.

Hannah.

She had found him in Colorado and taken him back to the Bunker. Could she…?

“Hannah doesn’t know.”

Dean cast Cas a surprised look, just then realizing that he had probably been projecting. Damn it, he should really learn how to get a handle on this thing. It was starting to annoy him a little, and although the whole telepathy thing might be cool and useful, he didn’t like not knowing when it was happening.

“How can you know that? Cas, she even healed me. What if…” _What if Heaven already knows?_

“Hannah did not look into your soul, Dean. And even if she had, she would never have taken you back to your brother had she known the truth. She believes in orders and rules, and she will follow them without question. She would never let you go had she realized you were bearing a nephilim. She insists she does consider me a friend, but she would never put anything before Heaven’s orders.”

There was a certain grimness to Cas’ words; a heaviness in his voice Dean couldn’t quite understand, but he decided it wasn’t the right time to ask. So instead, he focused on the facts, on the relief Cas’ words brought to him, because he knew Cas was right—Hannah wouldn’t have left him in the Bunker had she realized what was happening.

Okay, so no one but himself, Cas and Gabriel knew. Dean hadn’t met any angel other than Cas, Gabriel and Hannah, and he was pretty sure Sam and Charlie were in the dark. They were safe. They were—

_Oh, no._

They were so screwed.

“Crowley.” Dean could already feel the panic building up inside, the cold, electric chill running down his spine. He remembered the way Crowley had eyed him up and down, the freaking _spark_ of delight in the demon’s eyes, his amusement at the secret only he seemed to know.

Crowley _knew._

Dean turned to Cas, his eyes wide. “He popped up in my motel room on my way to Absarokee, before I found you here. He knew we had slept together, Cas, and he said you probably had something interesting to tell me.” He could hear the outright _panic_ in his voice, because if Crowley knew…

“He shouldn’t have been able to feel the nephilim,” Castiel shook his head, although even Dean could hear the way his voice wavered, his gaze unsure. It made Dean felt even worse, his stomach flipping, a wave of nausea starting to make itself known.

“Unfortunately, we can’t be sure about that," Gabriel was the one to say it, and the words felt like a punch right in Dean's stomach, "Although my guess is that he didn’t sense the nephilim itself. He might have felt another soul in your body, though, and that’s where your worries should be, because then he might have connected the dots. But he probably did feel the soul bond, that’s for sure. He’s in charge of Hell, so he has to be able to feel if a soul is out of his reach or not. It would be impossible for him not to notice an angelic claim.”

Dean swallowed drily, weighing the words in his head. He had been throwing up when the demon had shown up, so what if Crowley had put the pieces together? He might not have been able to actually sense the nephilim, but what if…

Or maybe Dean was just being paranoid. Dean could have had food poisoning or something. Crowley couldn’t know. There was no way for him to know.

Or was there?

“We’ll deal with Crowley if we need to.” Cas’ words were not enough to soothe Dean, not at all, but he pushed the his worry aside for now.

“Apart from those little bumps on the road, no one should be able to sense the nephilim for a few months,” Gabriel continued, “And by then, if you’re not cloaked from Heaven, they will find you. You can’t just hide in that cave of yours forever.”

Dean couldn’t help but tense up at the mention of the Bunker. He wondered if Gabriel knew where it was. Maybe they weren’t completely safe there after all. Gabriel hadn’t exactly done anything against them, but Dean definitely didn’t trust him. He was way too shady.

“And by cloaked I assume you mean Dean should wear this,” Cas held up the talisman he had shown Dean the night before, the one Dean refused to wear because he just didn’t trust Gabriel.

If Gabriel noticed the suspicion in Cas’ voice, the way he held the necklace by the string like it might harm him in some way, he had no reaction to it. “It’s a protection talisman. Several angels hid their nephilims with those centuries ago.”

“And you just _happened_ to have one of those?” That was just a little too much of a coincidence for Dean’s taste, a few alarms already ringing inside his head.

“Even I don’t recognize some of these engravings, Gabriel,” Cas pressed on, clearly having picked on whatever Dean did, “How can I know we can trust that this amulet will effectively hide Dean from Heaven?”

“You don’t,” Gabriel shrugged once more, sounding pretty calm and convincing, “And I’m not asking for you to trust me, but I am giving you this if you ever come to believe I really do want to help you.”

“And why should we believe you, anyway?” Dean finally got to ask the very question that had been looming over his head since yesterday, “You haven’t given us a single reason to do that, so why should we believe you’re not going to screw us over?”

Gabriel actually sighed at that, his face smoothing out in an instant. He actually looked tired then, the sight of it so unsettling and unnatural Dean actually grew quiet. “I can’t argue with that, and I know you don’t trust me. Honestly, you have every reason not to. But it can’t hurt to hear me out, can it? And it’s not like you have anyone else that _can_ help you right now.”

Dean swallowed at that, but ended up nodding tightly in response. Gabriel did have a point, and Dean knew that, as much as he hated to admit it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“What else do you have to tell us, then?” Cas was the one who asked, his voice lighter than before, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if the change in Gabriel’s stance had anything to do with the shift, “About the Mark and my Grace.” Dean didn’t miss the tone in Cas’ voice, the hope the angel allowed to slip into his voice, even if maybe he didn't even realize it. It was then that he realized that Cas actually seemed a lot more willing to trust Gabriel than he was, and that was honestly worrying.

“Well, for your Grace, I don’t think there’s any other option but to find your original Grace, because recharging will only get you so far. Any stolen Grace will last less than the previous one, and the Mark will only make your Grace fade faster, although the soul bond does slow that down a lot. Still, your current Grace is right now numbing the effects of the Mark for both of you while protecting the nephilim, and that costs a lot of energy. And trust me, you don’t want to get any close to the point where your Grace is too weak to keep protecting the nephilim. And while the soul bond is making your Grace heal faster right now, that will change pretty soon. The longer Dean is into the pregnancy, the more power the nephilim will require from your Grace, Cassie, so much the soul bond won’t be able to balance it out in just a few months. There’s no way any borrowed Grace will last until Dean’s due, so the only option here will be to find Cassie’s actual Grace and hope there’s enough of it left. The nephilim requires a connection to both soul and Grace from both parents, so this might be a big  problem down the road.”

Dean felt the spike of despair coming from Cas through the bond, the surprise and shock and outright panic flooding his being and making his head spin. He wasn’t much better himself, though, because this was definitely not something he had been prepared to hear. It seemed they had even less time to deal with than he’d previously thought; the clock was ticking down much faster than he’d believed.

“So you don’t know if there is enough of it left?” Dean couldn’t help but sound bitter about it as the sick realization that their chances were even slimmer than he’d originally thought settled into his stomach.

“I don’t even know if there’s any of it left at all, to be honest, but if there is, there should be a way to track it somehow. Although Metatron probably hid it pretty well. That little weasel was always a paranoid bastard, he probably put up a dozen wards around it.”

Well, at least Gabriel seemed to dislike Metatron, so they were all in the same page with that.

Although that fact that Gabriel himself couldn’t track Cas’ Grace and didn’t even know if there was any of it left did leave a sour taste in Dean’s mouth. If an archangel couldn’t find it, then how the hell could they? How would they get around Metatron’s warding? And what if there _wasn’t_ enough of it left? What if…?

“And what about the Mark?” Dean just needed to think about something else, he needed _something_ to hold on to, something that gave him just a tiny bit of hope, at least, because right now he had very close to none. “You said Cas’ Grace is protecting the nephilim. The Mark is trying to kill it, isn’t it?” Dean heard his own voice tremble, not having until the realized

Gabriel’s nod was more painful than it should have been. Dean had already guessed as much, but that didn’t mean it was any easier for him to have actual confirmation of the fact that the Mark was trying to _kill_ his _child_. He didn’t think he had ever hated the damn thing more than he did now.

“Is there anything you can do about it? A cure for the Mark, or anything to get rid of it.”

“Me? No,” Gabriel shook his head, and Dean felt his stomach sink, “The Mark of Cain was given to Cain by Lucifer himself, and trust me, you don't want to know where it came from. The only other archangel who might be able to remove it would be Michael, but even that is a little unlikely, and they’re both stuck downstairs anyway. But me? Not a chance I can overcome a curse that strong.”

And that was exactly what made Dean snap. “Is there _anything_ you can do? Because this sure as hell doesn’t really look like helping to me.”

“Dean.”

Dean looked to the side, surprised by the reprimanding tone in Cas’ voice. He had been sure they had been on the same page with this whole Gabriel situation, but apparently they weren’t, if the almost warning look on Cas’ face was anything to go by.

“See? Someone here appreciates me.” Gabriel lifted his eyebrows at Dean.

Dean let out an annoyed huff in response, rolling his eyes.

“And either way,” Gabriel leaned back on his seat once more, “You didn’t let me finish.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow at that. “Then please, for all means, go ahead.”

“I can’t remove the Mark of Cain myself, not with the information I have currently, but I might find a way do something about it.”

Dean straightened up on his seat, searching Gabriel’s face for anything hint of dishonesty, anything that told him the archangel had any other hidden intentions that didn’t involve actually helping them, any secret agendas of his own that would in the end bring them to harm in any way.

Much to his confusion, he found none. Although with Gabriel, he knew he couldn’t base any conclusions on the way he acted. Gabriel was the king of illusions, after all.

“How would you do that?” Cas was the one to ask, but his stance wasn’t tense as it had been before, wasn’t as careful as Dean would like it to be. He could see it clearly, the way Cas’ entire demeanor had changed from cautious to hopeful, and that alone set a rock of worry in Dean’s stomach. Because the last thing they needed right now as have Cas be fooled by Gabriel’s schemes, would the archangel's intentions turn out to not be exactly what he was trying to convince them it was.

He could understand it. Gabriel, even after every twisted thing he had done, was still technically Cas’ family in a weird, confusing way. The fact that they were very much short on options also played a big part in it, so much that Cas had grown desperate to the point of trusting Gabriel, of actually being willing to believe the archangel wanted to help them without any proof that he could actually be trusted apart from a few words of advice and a myterious talisman that might not even work.

The problem was that Dean just didn’t trust Gabriel at all. As much as he wanted to have someone he could trust with this, as much as he wanted to have an archangel on their side if everything went to hell, as much as he wished he could believe they had someone powerful on their side, he _couldn’t._

And it _terrified_ him that Cas might not feel the same way.

“It’s still a work in progress, little bro,” Gabriel smirked a little at Cas, and Dean held back the urge to roll his eyes. That, right there, was one of the reasons why he couldn't trust the guy, couldn't take him seriously. Everything seemed to just be a joke to him, and that annoyed the hell out of Dean. “A pretty complicated project, I might add. I’ll tell you all about it when I have something more concrete to go on.”

“And when exactly would that be?” Dean stood up, taking a few steps toward Gabriel. He saw Cas tense up and step closer to him, but he ignored it, “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell us exactly why you’re doing this? You see, I’m not buying this story that you’re helping us out of the goodness of your heart, not after all the crap you've done. You've been hiding away like a fucking coward for  _years_ , and suddenly you're here and trying to convince us that you suddenly give a crap about anything? You can't possibly expect me to believe this."

The air around them felt heavier as Dean’s words. For several seconds, no one moved. Dean could feel his own heart hammering against his ribcage, his breath heavier than normal, though he remained glued to his spot, his eyes glued to Gabriel’s face as he waited for a reaction.

The shift in Gabriel’s eyes was hard to miss. Throughout the entire conversation, the look in his eyes hadn’t been exactly heavy; never lacking that weird, ever present spark that Dean had once believed would never leave the archangel’s eyes.

He had been wrong.

That spark was gone.

Terrifying might be the best word to describe exactly how Gabriel looked right now. His were looked a darker shade of golden, like a shadow had come out of nowhere to hover over it. His expression was smoothed out, completely unexpressive, but the anger was clear enough in his eyes that Dean didn’t need to see any hints of it in his face to get the message.

Dean gulped, in that moment suddenly very much aware of the fact that Gabriel was an _archangel_. Sure, he was always aware of that fact, but Gabriel just never acted like it, which made it easy to forget just how powerful he actually was, much more powerful than he and Cas combined, or than almost everything he’d ever dealt with in his life.

It took a lot of strength to keep from stepping back when Gabriel stood up and stepped over to Dean. The height difference meant nothing at that point, it didn’t make Gabriel even the slightest bit less intimidating, because he suddenly looked so much bigger right then, so much more than just the vessel Dean's human eyes could see.

“I've been putting up with a lot from you since yesterday, Dean,” Gabriel’s tone was unlike anything Dean had ever heard before, the air filled with static as the archangel’s voice resonated in the room, like every word was a small thunder in the distance, “I know you don’t trust me, but if I were you, I would learn to watch my tongue, because my patience doesn’t exactly last forever. You don’t need to know why I’m doing this, you don’t need to know why I want this child to live, all you need to know is that you should shut your mouth and quit that attitude."

Dean gulped, but held Gabriel’s gaze as the archangel stepped even closer, so much he was standing just a few inches away from the human. It took all of his willpower not to step back.

Surprisingly, though, Gabriel's next words were laced with anger. His voice grew lower, breathy, almost strained as he shook his head. "Your temper will be the death of you, Dean Winchester. You should try to keep in mind who your real enemies are."

The gust of wind that hit Dean a second later made him lose his balance, the force of it so strong it knocked him backwards, and he would have fallen hadn’t a strong pair of arms caught him before it happened. The sound of wings flapping echoed in the room for just a second before it faded away. When Dean looked up again, Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, Dean got back to his feet, still breathing heavily and feeling slightly uneasy on his feet. Cas didn’t seem willing to let go of him just yet, though, leaving his hand on the hunter’s arm while other rested on the small of his back, probably to try and steady him if the human were to fall again, and although Dean didn’t feel like he needed the support, he also didn’t feel like pushing Cas away right now.

Dean decided to wait for Cas to say something, and it was only when he realized that angel wouldn’t almost a full minute later that he decided to do it himself. “I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you want.” He turned to Cas, only to find the angel watching him with heavy, sad eyes. He hated that look, but he didn’t regret the reason why Cas was giving it to him.

“I’m not asking that of you,” Cas’ voice was a low, just a rumble, though there was no reprehension on his tone, “I know where you’re coming from, Dean. I know we have no reasons to trust Gabriel.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?” Dean remembered the way Cas had been acting all too clearly in his mind, how Cas had seemed more than willing to hear and believe every single word Gabriel said.

“I don’t trust Gabriel completely,” Cas shook his head lightly, his words coming out like a low, struggled whisper, his tone almost pleading, “But I’m willing to listen, Dean. He has done nothing but give us advice, he has not asked anything of us. If he wanted to bring us any harm, he’s had countless chances to do it so far, and he hasn’t. Doesn’t that at least give him the right to speak?”

Dean swallowed drily, looking away, mostly because he knew Cas was right. Damn it, he really should learn how to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t even sure why he’d exploded so quickly, the Mark had been quiet, he had just suddenly felt this anger out of nowhere, like—

Right. Mood swings.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Dean let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” Sure, he didn’t trust Gabriel, but now he realized maybe he should have held back from the yelling.

“He’ll come around. You just irritated him. He did not say he wouldn’t help us anymore.”

Dean wasn’t sure what he should feel. He wasn’t entirely relieved to hear those words, nor was he worried. He just had no idea what the hell his emotions were doing right now, and he briefly wondered how the hell he hadn’t noticed the mood swings sooner.

Cas' gaze was careful as he examined Dean’s face, his striking blue eyes dancing worriedly over Dean’s features, as if looking for something. Slowly, he took a step forward, finally releasing his hold on Dean's arm and letting his other hand slide from his place on Dean's lower back, raising his hand to gently press it against Dean’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“A little overwhelmed,” Dean closed his eyes, leaning into the soft touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. He just loved how easy this felt. He let out yet another breath, this one shaky as it left his mouth, “But I think it hasn’t really sunk in yet. This feels a little too surreal still.”

Opening his eyes, Dean watched as Cas’ eyes softened. The angel leaned forward, resting his forehead against Dean’s. He looked tired, so much more than he’d been before, which reminded Dean of the fact that Cas hadn’t slept at all the night before and still needed rest.

“You should sleep,” Dean whispered, “You look beat.”

Cas shook his head lightly, the movement subtle and brief, “I can’t.”

“You have to.” Dean leaned away then, so he could give Cas a reprimanding look, “You can’t just not sleep anymore, Cas, not in your current state.”

Cas swallowed, looking away. He looked torn, like he wasn’t sure what to do or say. He was silent for so long Dean was sure he wouldn’t get an answer.

“Very well,” Castiel sighed, defeated. Dean had actually expected a little more fight from him, but the fact that Cas had relented so quickly only made him worry even more. It just told him just how tired Cas was, just how low he was on borrowed Grace that he couldn’t even stay one night without sleep. "But only if you eat first."

Dean nodded, because he wasn't feeling nauseous anymore, and honestly, he was getting kind of hungry. "Okay."

They both ate sitting side by side on the kitchen table, just like they had done two days ago. Once more, Dean had that weird, detached feeling taking over him, because it was just weird being here, eating pancakes (this time bought, sure, but pancakes all the same) and drinking coffee, exactly as they had been doing two days ago, but yet so different because so much had happened since then.

Unsurprisingly, Cas had still seemed hesitant to go to bed and sleep, mostly because he was afraid something would happen to Dean while he was unconscious and he wouldn't be able to do anything. It took fifteen minute of Dean telling him that he would be fine and reminding the angel that he needed to rest properly to until Cas finally relented, but with one condition.

“But please Dean, if anything happens, if you feel or hear anything at all—”

“I’ll wake you,” Dean held back the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he reached for Cas’ hand, lacing their fingers together. He tugged at Cas’ hand to pull him toward the bedroom, smiling lightly at the angel as he took the first step, “Come on. I’ll lay down with you.”

Cas smiled back, just a shy, tiny tug at the corner of his mouth, but it was still there. Without protest, he followed Dean into the bedroom, allowing the human to lead the way.

“Don’t you want to get out of the suit?” Dean asked as he watched Cas pull back the covers that covered the bed, “I mean, that’s really not comfortable.”

Cas paused, glancing down at his suit and coat, like unsure if waiting to sleep was really worth the effort of changing. Or maybe he just wasn't used to it, actually changing out of his usual suit-and-coat combo.

Dean decided for him. Bending down, Dean fetched his duffel from where he’d left it under the bed earlier, fishing through it for the shirt and sweatpants he’d dressed Cas in the first night he had been here. “Here,” He handed the clothes to Cas, “This ought to be better.”

Cas still hesitated a little, staring down at the offered clothes for a moment, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with them, but in the end he relented, taking off his clothes and changing into them. Dean took off his shoes and jeans, staying in his boxers and shirt.

Soon enough they were on the bed, Cas instantly curling up to Dean, tucking his head under the human’s chin and wrapping his arms around the human to make sure Dean wouldn’t move away. It wasn’t even a minute later when Dean heard the soft snoring coming from him.

Dean ran his finger through Cas’ hair for a while, just listening to the angel sleep while doing his best not to let his thoughts wander too much. Still, that was a little hard to do, considering the situation they were in now. There was just so much happening and so freaking fast he had no idea how to process it all. In the course of four weeks his life had gone from complicated to… hell, he had no idea what to even call it at this point.

The Mark of Cain, Cas’ fading Grace, he and Cas getting together, the soul bond, the nephilim, Gabriel being alive and kicking, Crowley, Heaven...

He could barely process it all.

Dean closed his eyes, already feeling a headache coming on. He had no idea what to do, what to even think right now. How could they get through this? How were they going to survive this?

Dean had absolutely no idea.

Looking down, Dean realized his shirt had gone up a tiny little bit, probably because of the way Cas was clinging to him, even in his sleep. He couldn’t see much because of it, just a small sliver of skin, just a tiny portion of his stomach, but for some reason that was already enough to shake the breath out of him.

He was _pregnant._

Maybe it just hadn’t sunk in until then, maybe the shock hadn’t worn off until that moment; all he knew was that in that moment, it hit him like a brick wall, the enormity of that word. He was going to have a _child_. He was going to be a _parent_.

Slowly, Dean traced the outline of his stomach with the tip of his fingers, and even though there was nothing about it that told him anything was different, that gave away the fact that a baby was actually growing in there, for some reason it just made the situation all the more real.

He suddenly felt the urge to say something, do something, but he wasn’t sure what. It wouldn’t even make a difference, too, because if he only a month into a twelve month long pregnancy, then the baby was surely not ready to _hear_ anything.

And yet, he still found himself talking.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he whispered into the dark room, resting his hand over his flat stomach. Tightening his grip around Cas’ waist, the hunter pulled the sleeping angel even closer, feeling comfort on the warmness coming from Cas’ body as it pressed against his own. He kissed the dark hair on top of the angel’s head lightly, careful not to wake him from his much needed rest, “To either of you.”

He swallowed, feeling a shaky breath escape his lips. He glanced down at the Mark, glaring at him from the skin of his arm, silently making promises of death, wordlessly plotting the demise of his family. He had been wrong before; he had never hated the Mark more than he did in _this_ moment right now.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sound of Cas’ breathing, on the way the angel’s heart was beating against his own ribcage in a calm, almost soothing rhythm. He let it all engulf him, let it wash away the anger just for now. Nosing lightly at Cas’ hair, he breathed in the angel’s scent, realizing once more it reminded him of mint and honey for some reason. He liked it, and that was what mattered, because already he could feel some of the tension in his muscles melt away. He needed it.

He couldn’t fail them. He had failed so many people already in his life, he had lost so much over the years, but _this_ was something he couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t lose them. No harm would come to either them; he would not allow it.

“No matter what it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned I really seem to have a thing for angst? ;P


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so supportive, guys!<3 Seeing all your comments and kudos are the highlights of my day. :)
> 
> Guys, it happened again. The first draft for this chapter was barely 12k words long and the final version turned out with over 19k. This is the longest chapter so far now. This fic is seriously getting away from me. XD 
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains spoilers from the episode 10x17, "Inside Man".

Cas didn’t sleep even half of what Dean had thought (or at least hoped) he would. It was only a few hours after they’d lied down on the bed that the angel was stirring awake in his arms, blinking the lingering sleepiness away from his eyes and looking up at Dean, worry evident in his gaze for several seconds before it finally faded away once his eyes focused on Dean's face, like he felt the need to make sure the hunter was still there and that something hadn’t happened to him while the angel had been asleep, which definitely could not mean anything good concerning the quality of the angel’s rest, if he’d spent it subconsciously worried that something might happen to Dean.

Of course, Dean had tried to get him to sleep some more then, spending over ten minutes trying to convince Cas that he couldn't have possibly rested enough in those short four hours of sleep, but the stubborn angel wasn’t having it and just wouldn’t give in. Eventually Dean had to give up, but only when Cas finally promised that he would sleep that night when Dean went to bed himself, and the hunter was without a single doubt going to hold him to that promise.

It was midafternoon by the time they left the bedroom, and since they were both hungry they decided to eat a late lunch. Dean had quickly gathered up the last of the food they had stored in the cabin—some pasta that he cooked up with what he liked to call his special tomato sauce and some grinded meat (it was a shame he didn't have enough condiments to make meatballs, but that would just have to do), plus some boiled vegetables and a side of baked potatoes.

Cas had tried to help at some point, and Dean gave him the task of cropping the vegetables for him, which the angel did with an almost startling look of concentration on his face, like he was given this incredibly important task that needed to be completed with perfection and lives depended on it. It was actually an amusing sight—how the angel carefully sliced all the carrots, beets and cuccumbers with pretty much milimetrica precision. Cas did do a pretty good job, though, Dean really couldn’t complain, and the angel looked so proud of himself when he was done, it was actually pretty adorable.

Not that Dean would say that out loud or anything.

Cas had also been the one to set the table, and soon enough everything was ready, the smell of the food permeating the air of the cabin. The whole place felt warm and comfortable, and for some reason there was this weird feeling lingering air around them, this… homey atmosphere, especially with all the cooking. That really should feel wrong and bother Dean, because that was just how he was, or at least how he had felt about it until very recently. This sense of domesticity, anything even remotely close to normalty often made him feel uneasy in his own skin, probably because he'd never had that, not after his mother died. That had really been a problem for him during the first few weeks he’d spent at Lisa’s. He liked to think he'd grow a little over that later on, when they’d first found the Bunker and for the first time in years he’d had a place to call home, a room that was actually his and not rented in a motel, a permanent bed to sleep on every night. He'd actually grown used to it a lot faster than Sam, anyway.

And maybe he had really grown over that, because this didn't feel weird, nor did it bother him.

No, but the problem was that he just had this weird feeling in his gut that told him something was wrong, not because of the situation itself, but he was just overly aware that everything around him was just so... fragile, like something was bound to come crashing down and destroy everything without a warning, because that was just what always happened; it was how his life was supposed to be. He had basically gotten used to just  _not_  having good things happen to him over the years, especially not like this.

So this, their current situation, as good as it felt to cuddle Cas in his sleep, to kiss him, hold him and even have sex with him, to cook and eat meals together and basically do everything Dean had for so long believed he would never be allowed to; it all came with this weird set of warning bells ringing in the back of his head, this constant reminder that this was something he shouldn't have, that it was somehow just the calm before the storm. And that fear fit a little too well with everything else that was going on, with how complicated their current situation was. He was overly aware of just how easily everything could just go to hell, and he had no idea how to deal with any of it. Now that he had this, this whole thing with Cas, that he knew what it felt like to be with the angel, that he had this weird fluttery feeling in his stomach every time he even thought about the fact that he was allowed to touch him, that he had this thrill of excitment running down his spine, this addictive rush coursing through his veins every time he kissed Cas; Dean knew it would hurt too much to lose this, and it terrified him to even think about it.

Because that could happen too easily. Whether it was the Mark, or Cas' Grace, or even Heaven somehow finding out about the soul bond and the nephilim—the list of factors working against them was too long, and it seemed to only be growing.

As Dean sat down at the table beside Cas, though, he did his best to shove those thoughts away for the time being and hope he wasn't projecting through the bond; did his best to ignore the dark cloud constantly hovering over their heads. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he kept mulling everything over in his head like that, and honestly, he was tired of thinking already.

Modesty aside, the food turned out pretty good. The vegetables made him feel a little nauseous, but fortunately he didn’t puke. That would have ruined a perfectly good meal.

They ate in silence for a while, just enjoying the food, the only sounds filling the air around them coming from their chewing or Cas' hums of approval, or the eventual scrape of a knife or a fork against a plate, which had Dean wince every time because he hated that freaking whiny sound.

No word was said for so long that Dean soon started to feel a little antsy. The silence that had taken over the room around them wasn't exactly awkward; it was just a heavy, loaded one, but that was to be expected, really. And yet for some reason Dean just felt the urge to talk, because if he didn't his mind would start wandering again. There was still _so much_ floating around in his head, so many doubts just piling up in his mind, he didn’t even know how to sort through all those thoughts, and it wasn't like he could just turn it all off, as much as he wanted to. He had spent the handful of hours Cas had slept just lying in bed thinking about everything that had happened yesterday and this morning, and he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around everything.

All he knew for sure was that he and Cas should talk more, that there was so much they still hadn't discussed, so much Dean didn't get just yet, so much he didn't _know_. They had barely talked at all since yesterday, but now that they had the chance to do just that, he had no idea where to even begin.

Eventually he chose to go with something tame at first, probably the less complicated thing he could think of in that moment.

“You know, there’s something I still don’t get.”

Cas frowned at him, looking almost surprised by the abrupt question. He tilted his head a little to the side, a silent question clear in his eyes, and Dean took that sight as his cue to continue.

“When you told me about the soul bond, you called me your mate.” Dean hadn’t thought too much of it at the time. He’d been a little confused, sure, and maybe a little freaked out if he was being honest, but not enough to actually ask about it. Maybe deep down he really didn’t want to know the answer. Well, that was, until, “And yesterday Gabriel said the same thing. I mean, he said you got mated to a human.” Dean paused to see if Cas had caught on, but apparently he was really going to have to ask, “So, are we really… ‘mates’ or something?” Dean didn’t even know what that could mean, really.

Cas nodded slowly, chewing his food a few times before swallowing so he could speak. “Technically, yes. It’s…” He seemed to change his mind about whatever he was going to say, looking down at his plate for a moment as he apparently reconsidered his words, before looking back up, “When two angels form a bond like ours, they are considered mates.”

“So angels do mate? Like, for real?” Dean hadn’t really thought about it over the years, honestly, but for some reason his mind had just assumed angels didn’t mate or have sex at all, even though he had never asked or anything. He hadn't thought too much of it when he'd slept with Anna either, because she had been human then. He'd started to consider that rule might not apply to all angels and that some actually functioned differently after finding out the Trickster was actually an archangel and meeting Balthazar, but even then Dean had just assumed that maybe there were just rare exceptions, since Gabriel and Balthazar were not exactly role models to the other angels.

That had been the assumption Dean had made concerning Cas for years—that the angel just wasn't interested in sex at all. That was actually one of the main reasons why he had been so adamant about never letting Cas know that he was attracted to him at all, why he had been absolutely terrified that the angel might realize their friendship was in no way platonic on Dean's side, or why he had all but convinced himself Cas would never want him the way he wanted the angel. He was scared to lose Cas because of it, to drive him away because the angel could not possibly return his feelings.

Maybe that had been why he'd been so surprised when Cas had slept with April, although at the time he'd made it up in his mind that it had only happened because Cas had been human. And he still thought that must have been the reason, because, well, Cas hadn't even known the bitch at all, and it was so unlike Cas to do something like that, he must have been confused by his (at the time) very recently acquired human status or something. He had mentioned humanity could be pretty much overwhelming to angels, and Dean also remembered Anna saying something similar to that, so that must have been it.

At least now Dean knew angel-Cas wasn't completely averse to sexual activity.

And man, was he glad to have been so terribly wrong all this time.

“Yes, we do mate. Although it is not like you would think.”

Dean frowned, confused and maybe a little bit curious, because he wasn’t sure there were too many ways to interpret that, “How come?”

“Well, firstly, for billions of years it was believed that angels could not procreate. We just never learned differently; there had never been the need to learn differently, anyway. Back then, those… bold enough to endure in sexual intercourse with other angels never ended up conceiving, so it was believed we could not procreate at all, and we never questioned that notion. It was only after Father left Heaven thousands of years ago and our numbers began to drop that it became clear angels would grow extinct if we could not procreate, since before then it was our Father who created all angels. So we had to find a way to balance the losses of Heaven's battles somehow.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” It really did. With how many angels Dean had seen die throughout the past few years, it was truly a surprise how the entire species hadn't grown extict yet. “So then you guys figured it out, started bonding and mating and making… angel babies?”

“Fledgings,” Cas corrected him calmly.

What, really? “Like baby birds?” He held back a laugh, because that might be rude or offensive or something, but he just hadn't expected the term at all.

Cas nodded once more, though there was a small glint of amusement in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed by Dean, which let the hunter know he hadn't been too subtle. At least Cas didn't look annoyed or anything, so that was good. “Yes, I suppose.”

Alright, then.

"But when God was still around and making new angels, were you guys... born, too? Or were you just created as... adults?" The question on whether or not Cas had been a fledging himself at some point hung from the tip of Dean's tongue, but he chose not to voice it.

Cas nodded. "We were all fledgings once, at some point, although when it was our Father that created us, there was no need for any gestation. We simply... began to exist." There was this little hint of something in Cas' voice. Wonder? Admiration? Dean wasn't sure. "The fledgings created through conception were carried, however, by one of the angels who conceived it."

"How can that work, though? I mean, you guys don't have actual bodies, and you hadn't been on Earth since God left, right? How can...?" It was a little hard to imagine it; the carrying and birthing of a child without a body.

What he wasn't having a hard time imagining, though, was a little black-haired, blue-eyed baby with tiny fluffly white wings, and it was adorable. And yeah, sure, he knew that could never be accurate because he didn't even know what form the fledgings had when they were born, and Cas couldn't have looked like baby Jimmy billions of years ago when humanity hadn't even been a thing. Also, he had no idea what Cas' wings looked like. But the image was cute and it was his mind, so he could imagine whatever he wanted.

"We do not require vessels, Dean, not even to bear a fledging, although it is more convenient and safe, to have the protection provided by a body for the child, so most would simply chose manifest their true forms, their forms in Heaven, into something close to a previous vessel while bearing. That would not work on Earth, but in Heaven, it is perfectly viable. A vessel is not necessary, however. The carrying of a fledging can happen without a vessel without a problem."

Well, that seemed oddly complicated, but okay.

Briefly, Dean wondered how an angel could 'change their true form', remembering how more than once the angel had referred to his as of the side of the Chrysler building or something, but he dropped that line of thought once another question occurred in his mind, one he wanted to ask a lot more.

Dean looked down, moving his food around in his plate as he tried to think of how exactly to ask the question that was suddenly hanging from the tip of his tongue. “Back in the Apocalypse, when I asked you if you’d ever… you know,” Cas nodded lightly in acknowledgement, “Why didn’t you ever, you know, mate with another angel? I mean, I know you said you just never had occasion, and aslo that this whole mating thing it relatively new, but... I mean, you guys must have been mating for what, a couple thousands of years? That’s a lot of time.”

Cas looked down then, and this time he actually grew silent. He looked slightly uncomfortable, and suddenly Dean regretted asking about the subject at all, no matter just how curious he was.

“Angels do not mate like any other beings,” Cas tone grew even heavier, “Perhaps precisely because we don't actually have bodies of our own, or maybe even because we're a very old species. It is not something quick, and sexual interaction is not at all required. Intercourse is a method, of course, however it is not necessary. The mating itself consists simply of the bonding of the two angels’ Grace, and that is all that is needed to create a fledging.”

Okay, that was a little weird, and a couple of other questions popped up in his mind then, but his bit his tongue and filed them away for another time, choosing not to comment and instead waiting for Cas to continue.

“I never desired to mate,” Cas’ tone shifted, a clear change from earlier. His voice sounded tenser, but almost… tired, somehow. Dean didn’t quite understand why, so he simply waited in silence for Cas to elaborate, not wanting to push him more than he already had. “Most of us don’t. Mating without permission was forbidden, of course, and punished a lot more heavily than simply having sexual intercourse. The mated pairs were actually chosen by our superiors. They would ask the chosen pair whether they would accept to bond and create a fledging, claiming it was an honor to provide a new life for Heaven, although we could decline. It was one of the situations, the very limited ones, when we were ever given any choice.”

“Were you ever chosen?” Dean couldn’t stop the question from flying from his mouth, “To mate, I mean.” He knew Cas had never had sex before April, but if mating didn’t exactly require sex…

Cas nodded lightly, “Once.”

Dean didn’t even think before asking, the words jumping from his mind without his consent before his mind could actually catch up, “To some angel I know?”

“Actually, yes, you met him once. Inias.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up a little, though he really didn’t have any reason to be shocked. He knew he hadn’t liked that Inias dude for a reason back when they’d met all those years ago in one of Bobby's safe house, back when Cas had been insane, they had just met Kevin and Dick Roman was still around. He remembered the two angels that had showed up to take Kevin to the desert or something to learn how to be a prophet, and then Hester had tried to kill Cas.

He had noticed Inias had been overly friendly with Cas, it would have been hard not to see it, really. Dean hadn’t really thought too much of it at the time, though, he just hadn’t liked the way the guy acted around Cas, that had been all.

Really. That had really been all.

Yeah.

“But I declined,” Cas seemed to know exactly where Dean’s thoughts had gone, “I told them I believed I could be of more use to Heaven in battle, and they believed me.”

Dean ignored the bitter feeling in his stomach as he wondered what would have happened if Cas hadn’t declined, because honestly, he had no right to be jealous of Cas, absolutely no right at all. And yet there was an odd satisfaction to knowing Cas had said no. “But that wasn’t the reason?” At least that was what it seemed like, anyway, judging by the way Cas said it.

“No, it wasn’t.” And there it was again, that shadow in the angel’s eyes that told Dean whatever Cas was about to say wouldn’t be pleasant. “I simply did not want it, I suppose. I liked Inias, he was a good soldier and a loyal friend, but that was all, and I suppose a part of me already believed that mating should be much more than just that. As Naomi pointed out to me two years ago, during the time she was controlling me, digging into my brain, that I always seemed to… not do as I was told. She called it a malfunction, to some degree. Although the truth was that Heaven saw harm in the fact that I was always, for some reason, able to think for myself, even if I was too scared to do something about it most of the time.”

Dean smiled lightly at that, even though there was this clear heaviness to Cas' words. Okay, sure, he also had no idea why Cas had always been different from the rest, but that only made Cas special. Dean had always known Cas was different, ever since he’d first met him. It had been why Dean had trusted him in the first place, when to him no other angel had actually earned his trust up until this day.

“You’re not like the others, Cas,” Dean finally said, “You’re better than them. You’ve always been.”

Cas didn’t seem convinced, but he did allow a small smile, and Dean knew that was all he would get. He knew his family was a very sore subject with Cas, so he decided not to push it any more.

Cas, however, seemed to be in a more sharing mood. “More recently, there was another occasion. Not a proposal of mating, one of intercourse. Although I declined.”

“Another occasion?” Okay, that was new. Like, completely new and unexpected. Dean perked up on his seat, raising an eyebrow in a silent request for Cas to elaborate. He didn't even comment on how weird it was that Cas kept calling sex 'intercourse', just so the focus of the conversation wouldn't be changed. He would get to the whole 'intercourse' thing later.

Cas nodded slowly, apparently not noticing the sudden shift in Dean’s tone. “Hannah… attempted to tempt me, to some degree. She… disposed of her clothing in front of me and when I had no response, she asked me if it made me uncomfortable.”

“Wait,” Dean actually chuckled, because damn if the realization he'd just had wasn't amusing, “Are you saying you pulled a Hannah on me? A few days ago, when you walked out of the shower? That’s where you got that idea from?”

To Dean’s surprise, Cas actually chuckled as well, shaking his head lightly. “No, that was in fact accidental. I did realize the similarities of both situations soon enough, however, and I did reuse her words, but the situation itself was in no way intentional.”

Dean huffed out another laugh, but soon enough felt his amusement fade as he realized why exactly Cas was telling him this. He cleared his throat, trying not to let his annoyance slip into his words as he asked, “So, Hannah stripped in front of you and you turned her down?” He tried to sound casual, but he knew it didn't work at all.

Cas nodded, “I declined her advances, of course, but for other reasons than I had before, back when I was chosen to mate by my superiors.”

Dean swallowed the sharp words that climbed up his throat, letting them die on his tongue. He had never liked Hannah, honestly, and not only because she had tried to get Cas to kill him once. No, he’d always had a bad feeling about her, and apparently he’d had a reason to, because apparently she had the hots for Cas.

But Cas had rejected her, so Dean really shouldn’t be feeling this sour. But he was, and yeah, okay, maybe he was jealous, whatever. But he did feel a little bit of satisfaction in knowing that Cas had turned her down.

Instead of commenting on any of that, though, he chose to ask, “What other reasons?”

“I just…” Cas shrugged weakly, shaking his head as he looked down at his plate once more, “It did not feel right. When I was human, I felt attracted to others, but as an angel, it feels more… complicated. Hannah’s vessel was attractive, indeed, but that is not…”

“That’s not enough for you. You’re not attracted by looks.” Cas nodded lightly in response. “That’s alright, Cas, seriously, I read a lot about that actually, when I was trying to..." He shrugged weakly, "figure myself out, I guess. You might be pansexual, or even demisexual.”

Cas seemed to consider those words for a moment, as if turned them around in his head, weighing them in his mind. "Perhaps," he agreed slowly, letting the word linger in the air for a moment before adding, “Although I do not care about labels. They are too… restricting. I do not understand why humans still insist on them.”

Dean nodded, because he kind of agreed, actually. He sensed the topic was done then, and decided to lead the conversation in another direction. “But if angels can, you know, 'mate',” Dean still couldn’t get used to that word, “Why do you call yourselves brothers and sisters?” Wasn’t that incest or something? Dean was pretty sure it was.

“We’re not actually siblings,” Cas shook his head, “Although I believe it was convenient for the Host to have us treat each other as family, somehow. It guaranteed loyalty, to some degree, and it also prevented us from getting involved by ourselves. I know differently now, though.”

Dean frowned in confusion, not sure what exactly the angel meant by that, but Cas wasn’t looking up from his plate to see the questioning look the hunter was giving him, do all that was left for Dean to do was ask, “How different?”

“Heaven is not..." Cas shook his head slowly, a distant, almost grim look taking over his eyes when he looked back up at Dean, and the hunter was surprised by just how much sorrow he saw in them, the pained look in the angel's eyes so strong it actually hurt Dean to see it, “Heaven has forsaken me. I'm... no longer allowed there."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise, because could they really do that? Just tell Cas he couldn't go to Heaven anymore? That was just... low, really. Honestly, Dean could already think of a ton of colorful terms for those winged bastards, but he held them back, instead letting them die on the tip of his tongue.

"The angels..." Cas let out a sigh, a heavy, tired sigh that made Dean fell even more angry, "Heaven is not truly my family. They never were.”

Dean swallowed, his throat feeling drier all of a sudden. He knew that was exactly what he had been telling Cas for years now, that Heaven didn’t care about him, didn’t consider him to be family, that they had only hurt him and used him. And while it was a relief to hear that Cas had finally understood that, it also felt bitter to see the way Cas’ eyes grew heavier as he talked, grieving even, to see how much it hurt Cas to actually see the truth.

And he got it, really, because Dean knew just how important family was, and to suddenly realize that your family doesn't care about you, to lose everything you had ever had, everything he had ever believed in... He couldn't even imagine how much that could hurt.

So Dean reached out, resting his hand on top of Cas’, twirling their fingers together in what he hoped would be understood as a gesture of reassurance. “You’re right, they never were. But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad about it. You saw them as your family for what, billions of years? And then suddenly realizing they’re not what or who you thought they were, it can be pretty…”

“Disorienting?” Dean nodded lightly in agreement, “It truly is, although…” The angel shook his head lightly once more, like searching for the right words, “Someone once told me that family is not something of birthright, of blood. It is something you earn.” Dean smiled, squeezing Cas’ hand, because he knew exactly who’d said it, to which Cas replied with a small smile of his own, “I still consider some of them family. Anna was my sister, just as Balthazar was my brother. Ezekiel, Inias, Samandriel, Hannah, maybe even Gabriel… They were and are my family, just as God is still my Father. But the others…”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say in response, so he just squeezed Cas’ hand once more, hoping it would be enough. He had no idea what to say to get that grim look away from Cas’ face, but soon enough Dean realized Cas didn’t seem to be expecting an answer either, considering his eyes were focused back down on his food.

He didn’t let go of Dean’s hand, though.

Taking the new silence as his cue, Dean went back to eating. he was surprised, however, when the pause didn't last longer than a minute.

“I think we should leave.”

Dean looked up at Cas, startled at the abrupt change of subject, but then again, maybe he just wanted to talk about something else. After a conversation like the one they’d just had, Dean knew he would probably want the same thing. Still, Dean hadn’t exactly been expecting the silence to be broken until they were done with their meal, much less to hear something like that from Cas. He had just assumed Cas didn’t want to talk anymore, period, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“You mean the cabin?”

Cas shook his head lightly. “No. Absarokee.”

Dean eyed Cas for a moment, although he instantly knew Cas had a point. They would be safer away from here, in the Bunker, because even if it should be too early for Heaven to sense the nephilim, this wasn't a risk Dean was willing to take. He was already feeling uneasy in this cabin himself, although they weren't completely vulnerable in here, with all the wardi symbols that were still painted on the walls. Or were they? Dean had no idea, he realized, and honestly, they had already stayed in this town for a little long now. They hadn’t been planning to stay long in the beginning, anyway, they’d only prolonged their stay because of the hunt. But now that the job was over with, they had no reason to stay.

Also, he still owed Sam a few explanations, and he doubted his brother would be happy to wait for much longer.

Finally, Dean nodded, “Yeah, we should probably go back to the Bunker. We can sleep here tonight and leave tomorrow morning.”

Cas seemed relieved to hear those words, and very clearly so, like he had been afraid Dean wouldn’t agree with him and realizing that the hunter didn't drained some of the tension from his body. It made Dean realize just how tense Cas was about being in this cabin, maybe even more so than Dean was. He had mentioned something about the motel room not being safe, and Dean actually agreed with him on that one, but maybe he might have the same opinion concerning this cabin, which made Dean wonder just how vulnerable they were in here, had been for days.

“That would be acceptable,” Cas nodded lightly, instantly looking more relaxed.

Dean had clearly been able to see the chance in Cas’ demeanor since their conversation with Gabriel, how there always seemed to be a shadow over his eyes, a cloud of worry constantly hovering over his head. Dean was also worried, true, but the hunter wondered if he was partially to blame for it, for making it worse than it had to be, considering he had been the one who had pissed Gabriel off, who had sent the archangel away, and he could only guess that must be one of the reasons why Cas seemed so bothered—not knowing for sure where Gabriel was, when or if they would even see him again, if he was still at least willing to help them at all.

He hoped that would change once they were in the Bunker, that Cas wouldn’t look so grim anymore, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t happen. Sure, they would be safe there, or at least safer than they were here, anyway, but that was definitely not enough to fix all of their problems. Not even close to that, really.

Still, at least when they finally got to the Bunker, maybe Cas would finally rest a little. Sure, the angel had gotten about three hours of sleep after Gabriel had been here, but that definitely wasn’t enough. And by the dark bags that were starting to form under the angel’s eyes, even those few hours hadn’t provided any rest.

And sure, Dean got that Cas was worried, he was worried himself, but Gabriel had said the nephilim needed Cas to rest too, so this couldn't be good at all. Maybe the Bunker would provide them both enough piece of mind to actually get some decent sleep.

But going back to the Bunker meant something else, too, something Dean had wished to put off for a little bit longer.

He knew he had to tell Sam about a lot of things. His brother still didn’t know what exactly this soul bond was about or how it worked, how he and Cas had ended up bonded in the first place, that he and Cas were together, and of course, the newest addition to that list: that Dean was right now pregnant with his and Cas’ forbidden hybrid child.

He had been preparing himself to tell his brother about all of those except for the last one. He had been building up the courage to do the very thing he hadn’t had the guts to do throughout his entire life, to finally tell Sam about his darkest, most carefully kept secret, the one he had for years been sure Sam would never even dream about. He had made up his mind about opening up to Sam about himself and Cas, because it just didn’t seem fair in his head to hide this, to ask this of Cas.

But the pregnancy? That one hadn’t been part of the package yesterday morning, and he really wasn’t sure he was ready to tell Sam just yet. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea, and he was pretty sure the fact that whole coming out thiing, plus him and Cas being together, would already make up enough of a conversation to have with Sam when he got back.

Also, it wasn’t like Dean didn’t have time to put it off. He was going to be pregnant for over eleven more months, so there would be plenty of opportunities to fill Sam in on it. It wasn’t like Dean planned to wait months, too, just a few more weeks. It just didn’t need to be _now_.

Dean toyed with his food for a while, wrapping a few strings of pasta around his fork and then letting it fall back onto the plate four times before he finally spoke, “Hey, Cas?”

Cas stopped eating again, glancing up at Dean while he once more chewed the mouthful that was still in his mouth. He swallowed slowly before responding, “Yes?”

“I was thinking,” Dean swallowed, even though there wasn’t any food in his mouth, looking back down at his plate, “And I don’t… I mean, I know we should tell Sam about this, and Charlie, but…”

“Dean.”

Dean felt a warm hand grasping his own, the one that wasn’t holding the fork and had been resting on the table beside his plate for a while now. Cas’ fingers threaded in between his own, much like Dean had done just a few minutes prior, and it was just then that Dean looked back up at the angel.

“I’ve already said this before, Dean,” Cas’ voice, just like his eyes, was warm, the sound of it almost soothing as it reached Dean’s ears, “I’m not asking you to do anything you do not feel comfortable with.”

Dean nodded lightly, recalling the last time they’d had a conversation about this. The only difference was, they had only been talking about telling Sam about themselves, they hadn’t even known there might be something else to tell Sam, let alone something big like this. “I still want to tell him about us, Cas. I just… I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him about…”

“I know,” Cas whispered kindly, letting his thumb graze over the skin of Dean’s hand in what the hunter understood was a calming, comforting gesture, “And I see no harm in waiting to tell him, if that’s what you wish to do.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean nodded once more, making up his mind, “We’ll wait, then.”

***~*~*~*~***

The night didn’t bring as much rest as Dean had hoped it would, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t change, no matter how many nights they spent locked away in that cabin. Cas didn’t seem willing to get more than just a few hours of sleep again, and Dean’s own few hours had been almost completely restless. He kept waking up from time to time, tossing and turning on the mattress, from time to time feeling the bed shifting as Cas did the same. He could only blame it on his worry about their current situation, since his mind just didn’t seem willing to shut up long enough for him to actually rest, and he was pretty sure Cas was on the same boat as him on that one.

They still lingered in the cabin until late morning, though, until they finished packing all their things, which really wasn’t much, stuffing everything into Dean’s duffel. They also took their time to finish wiping the warding symbols off the walls, but there weren't that many left to begin with, so that didn't take too long either.

They ate lunch in town, in that same diner from the last few days, and by some miracle Dean didn’t get nauseous while they were sitting at the booth. Cas would constantly ask Dean if he was fine, though, no matter how many times the hunter told him that yes, he was fine, and no, he didn’t feel like throwing up.

It took an incredible amount of willpower to only have one mug of coffee, though, especially with the waitress that kept walking by their table with a jar filled with it, which made the smell linger constantly in the air around them. Cas, even if Dean insisted there was no need, was adamant about not having more than that either, because Dean couldn’t. Dean wasn’t going to admit it, but he actually found it endearing.

They made a stop at the police station on their way out of town to talk to the sheriff, quickly finding out that Gabriel had indeed kept his promise, even if Dean had pissed him off. Both men were still in observation at the hospital, but were both out of the ICU and mostly healed. The town was calling it a miracle, divine intervention or something, and Dean had to bite his tongue when he heard it.

They didn’t stay long after hearing the news, informing the sheriff that they had come to the conclusion the attacks had nothing to do with the case they were had been looking into before, so they would be leaving town. The sheriff wished them good luck on their case, and after a quick call to Sam to warn him they were leaving Absarokee, they were off, Dean driving the Impala and Cas following him with the Lincoln.

Dean drove slowly, not really feeling the need to rush to get to Lebanon. Their current pace and his plan of making stops for more than just a handful of hours to sleep would most likely turn the barely a day of driving trip he'd made on his way from the Bunker to Absarokee into three days of driving. Considering how poorly he and Cas had rested the night before, though, he really didn’t find it prudent to step on the gas on this trip. There was also no need to hurry, so why risk it?

And if he was earning himself a few more days of internal freak out, well, who was he to complain?

The only downside was that being alone in the car driving for hours meant that his mind was allowed to wander a lot, so much sometimes Dean just wished he could freaking turn it off.

They made three stops on the way for snacks and bathroom breaks, plus one for It was getting dark by the time they got to South Dakota. For a fleeting moment, Dean wondered if he should stop by Sioux Falls to check on how Jody and Alex were doing, but then decided against it. Something about their current situation made Dean feel uneasy about having Jody meet Cas for the first time like this; it just didn't feel right. Maybe some other time.

Instead, they ended up stopping at some town in the north of South Dakota named Stratford for the night.

It wasn’t hard to find a motel, and soon enough Dean was turning off the Impala’s engine as Cas parked the Pimpmobile on the parking slot right beside Baby. He got out of the car and walked over to the Lincoln just as Cas began to get out.

“I’m going to get us a room for the night,” he announced, pausing beside the back passenger door of Cas’ car and leaning against the side of the vehicle, “You up for some food then? Though I could use a shower first…” He had spent the entire day driving, after all.

“I can go get us something to eat,” Cas was quick to offer, “We can eat here.”

Dean almost said that there was no need, but changed his mind once he really thought it through. A shower right now sounded amazing, and honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating out right now. There was always the possibility that he might get sick in the middle of a restaurant, and that was certainly not something he wanted to experience, and considering the fact that his nausea had been pretty kind to him today, he was pretty sure that was only the calm before the storm, and he definitely had no desire to test out his luck on that one.

“Alright,” he agreed.

Five minutes later, though, as Dean walked into their room and laid his bag by the foot of the bed, he caught himself pausing instead of getting a new change of clothes and going into the bathroom to take a shower right away. One thought that had been nagging at his mind since that morning, then even more insistedly for the entire drive here was catching up with him once more, endlessly repeating itself in his head, reminding him of an idea he had considered silly and just plain ridiculous five times already, but seemed to always come back later on since they’d left Absarokee.

He didn't even know why he wanted to do it, really, but for some reason the thought of it just wouldn't leave him alone, no matter how many times he tried to forget it. Also, if he was going to do it, then it'd be better for him to do it before they got to the Bunker, and what other better opportunity would he have after this? Cas was out getting food, and he didn't need to worry about either Sam or Charlie seeing something they weren't supposed to.

It took him about a minute to decide.

“Oh, fuck it.”

What harm could come from it, anyway?

He was grabbing his car keys again a moment later, and soon enough he was driving around town until he finally found what he’d been looking for—a drugstore.

He stalled for a little after walking through the doors in the entrance, just walking around the store for about full ten minutes until he realized he was being ridiculous and finally worked up the courage to walk over to the section of the store he assumed had what he wanted. When he finally found it, he just stood there in the middle of the isle for yet another few minutes, just staring at the boxes with smiling babies and cartoon storks on them.

Pregnancy tests.

It wasn’t like Dean didn’t believe Cas’ judgment, because that wasn’t it. He just… He wasn’t sure why, he just felt like he needed to do it, be it for more confirmation or whatever, maybe just full on curiosity, but he wanted to do it. Still, it took a while until he managed to make his arm move, grabbing three little boxes of three different brands from the shelf and making his way over to the check-out area.

The cashier smiled sweetly at him when she saw the tests. Dean knew what she was thinking; it wasn’t hard to figure it out, really. A man in his mid-thirties buying a bunch of pregnant tests? She probably thought they were for his wife or something.

If only she knew…

Dean was careful not to let his left hand on sight too much, just in case she noticed the lack of a ring in his finger. No need to correct her.

Of course, he didn’t bother to explain himself, just smiled politely at her and paid for everything in cash, before leaving the store and driving back to the motel. Cas’ car was nowhere in sight when he got there, which meant the angel was still not back from his task of finding food, and for some reason Dean was glad for it. He might have changed his mind about doing this otherwise.

He didn’t go straight for the bathroom once he was inside the room, though. First he got out of his clothes, grabbing a clear shirt and a pair of unused boxers from his duffel, before finally taking the clothes and the small bag from the drugstore into the bathroom and closing the door behind himself, but not locking it.

He undressed first, getting ready for a shower, before he finally made himself get the three little boxers out of the bag, laying them neatly side by side on the sink. He stared at the for a while—one had a baby in a diaper smiling at him, the second had a stork carrying a bundle wrapped in a white sheet on its orange beak, also smiling at him, and the third one had another baby on it, but this one was dressed in a onesie, holding a bottle on its tiny little hand and had a pacifier in its mouth.

He opened the boxes and got all the sticks out of the boxes, comparing the instructions there were on the back of each box, soon enough realizing they all said pretty much the same thing—he basically had to pee on the sticks and wait five minutes for the results. They all showed the results in different ways, though, and while they were all simple enough enough and he didn't think he’d need all boxes to read them, he left the boxes on the sink and got to business.

Getting himself to pee wasn’t easy. It was annoying, really, that when he needed to do it, he couldn’t. It took a while, but finally he managed to do it, and soon enough the three tests were lying side by side on the sink over a few layers of toilet paper, because he had peed on them and that just couldn’t be sanitary at all.

Leaving them there, Dean stepped into the shower, trying not to think too much about them, just sitting there, waiting, watching him from the sink, but how could he not when they were all staring at him from just a few feet away? He had no idea why he was feeling a little nervous; he already knew he was pregnant, and he wasn’t even sure if this would work at all, although it should, right? Didn't Gabriel say he was producing women's hormones now? And these tests were based on hormones, so maybe it would work. Or maybe it wouldn't and he was just being ridiculous an wasting his time. Considering this was no normal pregnancy, he wasn't exactly confident about the results. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out a cheap, normal pregnancy test from a drugstore couldn’t give him trustworthy results, but he still felt anticipation crawling in his gut while he dried off from his shower and put on his shirt and boxers.

He was sure he had been in the shower for longer than five minutes, but he still lingered a few steps away from the sink for a while before he finally made himself step forward and glance down at the tests.

The first one had a pink plus sign on it. The second one had a smiley face. The third one had two pink lines.

He didn’t even need to look at the boxes to know the results, but he still did, only to confirm what he already knew.

Positive.

A shaky breath escaped Dean’s lips at the sight of all the tests together. It wasn’t like he had been expecting different results, not at all, honestly, but still, staring down at all of them like that… It was still surreal to him, and this made it all so much more _real…_

He sniffed, and it was only then that Dean realized he was crying. _What the fuck?_ Rubbing his hand over his eyes and cheeks, he tried to get rid of the tears that had started to form and slide down his face without his consent, but they just kept coming and he had no idea why. He wasn’t really sure what he was feeling right now, much less why he had started crying all of a sudden. Why—

Oh, right. Hormones.

Awesome.

Picking the tests up (being careful not to touch the end of them he had peed on, because that was just gross) and sitting down on the toilet, Dean just stared down at the tests in his hands, feeling the tears running down his cheeks and not even bothering to fight them anymore. He just stayed there for countless minutes, feeling oddly numb all of a sudden and without a clue of what to do with himself, of how he should be reacting to this.

“Dean?”

Dean jumped at the sound, looking up at the bathroom door and catching sight of Cas standing there, watching him with a frown on his eyebrows, a worried look on his blue eyes. Dean hadn’t even heard the angel getting back, or even opening the bathroom door. The angel was by his side in only a moment, kneeling before the human and eyeing him like he expected to find a wound on him or something. Dean could feel the angel’s worry in waves, washing over him through the bond.

“Are you hurt? What happened? Are you—”

Dean shook his head almost frantically, before Cas could go on. Damn it, he really should have thought this through. The last thing Cas needed right now was to be this worried when there was no reason to. The angel was already troubled enough as it was. “It’s nothing, Cas. I’m okay, I’m not hurt.”

Cas looked relieved, but also confused. “Then why are you in the bathroom, crying? What are…?” He looked down then, finally seeming to realize Dean was holding something, and he looked surprised instantly, clearly realizing what was going on. At least Dean didn’t need to explain what he had been doing in here.

Dean shrugged weakly, suddenly feeling silly again as he twisted one of the sticks in his hand. “I don’t know why, I just thought I’d do it. It’s not like I didn’t already know or doubted it, I just…”

Cas didn’t look up, his eyes fixed on the tests Dean was holding. He was still frowning as he reached out, grabbing the one with the smiley face on it. Dean wanted to protest, because Cas was touching the thing Dean had just peed on, but the words wouldn’t escape his throat and the angel was too fast, anyway. He examined it carefully for so long Dean actually grew a little uncomfortable, and damn it, why the hell was he still crying?

He sniffed, and that seemed to break Cas out of whatever trance he had gotten into.

“I think I understand why.” The angel finally looked up, smiling lightly at Dean, who couldn’t help but smile back. "You didn't see the nephilim like I did."

Numbly, Dean nodded. Honestly, Dean was a little jealous that Cas could see the baby the way he had done yesterday. So yeah, maybe he still needed some sort of confirmation that he could see with his own eyes. And who could blame him, really? This was not a normal situation at all.

"Close your eyes."

Dean frowned, confused by the sudden request, but complied anyway, letting his eyes fall closed. He felt Cas' forehead against his own a second later, which confused him even more, his frown deepening, because what the hell was Cas doing?

He was just about to ask that very question out loud when it happened.

It started like this wave of heat. He remembered what it had felt like yesterday, when Cas had seen the nephilim back in the living room, this tingly heat that seemed to fill his body, which he assumed might be Cas' Grace.

And suddenly there was an image in his head. It was like he was actually seeing it with his eyes, although behind his eyelids, like a vision. It was a little unfocused at first, and it when it did become clear, it still took Dean a while to understand what he was seeing.

It was bright; that was the first thing that came to mind. A bright, tiny ball of white light, pulsating. There was more light around it, too, but it was clearly not part of the little blob.

And suddenly Dean  _knew_ what he was looking at, because what else could it be? That little speck of light, the little shiny blob of whiteness, the spot of brightness that basically outshined everything around it, so bright and so clearly _alive_...

That was his  _child._

Dean only realized he was crying against when the image faded and he realized Cas had pulled away from him, but he didn't even bother to try to stop the tears this time. he had no idea what he was feeling then, but this was overwhelming in... a good way. He felt this thrill he couldn't quite understand, this weird sense of pride, because that little, small, beautiful, bright spot of light was _his and Cas' child._

He swallowed, trying to calm his breathing, which had at some point grown heavier than normal, but all he managed to do was let out a few shaky breaths.

“This is really happening,” Dean whispered, feeling like he was finding out about the pregnancy all over again, although he wasn’t freaking out about it anymore. It felt different than it did yesterday, like his brain finally managed to go past the point of processing that this was actually possible and it was _really_ sinking in this time, what this meant, what this pregnancy  _really was_. “Cas, we’re going to be _parents_.”

It was a terrifying thought. He’d been a father before, twice actually, and yet it had never felt like this.

He still didn’t know for sure that Ben wasn’t his son. He’d never really taken Lisa’s word for it, but he’d never worked up to asking for a paternity test, mostly because he’d come to consider Ben to be his son during the time he’d spent with him and Lisa, and honestly, genetic didn’t really matter to him on that one. As a wise old drunk once said, ‘Family don’t end with blood, boy.’ Ben had been his son, no matter if he hadn’t actually been biologically his. It was still a sore subject with him, one he did his best not to think about even after all those years, because it still hurt too damn much.

And then there had been Emma, which had been a pretty surreal experience. She hadn’t been human, sure, and she had grown the equivalent of years over the course of just a handful of days, but she had been Dean’s daughter, nonetheless. And no matter how many times he’d told himself it had to be done, that Sam had done the right thing, that she would have tried to kill him in the end because that was what she had been there to do in that apartment to begin with, that he couldn’t have _changed_ her in any way, he still didn’t have words to explain just how much it _hurt_ to watch Sam shoot her, even after all this time. Maybe there was a part of him that still had the tiny spark of hope that maybe she hadn't been a lost cause, that there was hope for her somehow.

But _this_?

He and Cas were having a child. Cas, his best friend, the angel he’d been pretty much pining over for years and who for some reason wanted him too, the very being who’d raised him from freaking Hell, who’d been through so much with him over the years, including a year in freaking Purgatory. The angel who had died for him more than once, who’d rebelled from everything he’d ever known because of Dean.

He and Cas were going to have a _baby_ , an actual living, breathing child, who was growing inside of him _right now_.

And the Mark of Cain was still on his arm, burning and making sure its presence was known; making sure Dean knew it was trying to kill their baby; making sure Dean knew it was trying him and Cas; making sure Dean just  _knew_. And Cas’ Grace was burning out every day, and if they couldn’t fix it...

When did he start crying again?

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around his body, pulling him forward, and Dean just let it happen, burying his face into the crook of Cas’ neck, for some reason feeling his muscles tremble, shaking with eventual spasms, and not being able to stop it. Cas just held him, his hand moving over the hunter’s back in soothing motions while laying feather kisses against the side of the human head from time to time.

“I know,” Cas whispered into his hair, “I’m terrified too.”

Dean closed his eyes, burying his face into the crook of Cas’ neck, because Cas just sounded so _human_ , so utterly fragile. His voice was filled with dread, and that sent a cold feeling washing over Dean's insides, because those words had definitely not been what Dean had hoped to hear. But he held onto the angel nonetheless, clinging onto Cas like the angel was the only solid thing on this world, because in a way, he was.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean had calmed down at some point, the damn hormones finally deciding he had cried enough for the day. Cas didn’t seem bothered by it at all, though, and when it was over, all he did was as if Dean was okay, if there was anything he could do and offer him food. They didn’t talk about the breakdown again, which was definitely a relief.

The food was pretty good, too.

After eating, Dean felt so exhausted he all but collapsed on the bed, glad to have taken that shower and changed earlier. He felt drained, his muscles complaining with every movement, and he wondered if he would always feel like this. This sudden lack of energy was happening all too often, and honestly, it was starting to get a little annoying, even though Cas had assured him it was normal and there was no need to worry.

He sort of remembered Cas kissing his forehead as he tucked him under a blanket and saying that he was going to take a shower, and then he must have fallen asleep, because he had no memory of anything that might have happened after that.

When Dean woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of food, which instantly sent him up and running to the bathroom to throw up. He felt pretty freaking awful about that one, because Cas had apparently woken up a lot earlier and gone after breakfast for them, and Dean’s good morning to him had been a bunch of grunts over the toilet as he tried not to puke out his freaking stomach. Cas actually looked a little sad, but when Dean apologized, Cas reprimanded him for it, saying it was not his fault and that the morning sickness would still stick around for a few more months.

Oh, joy.

Surprisingly, after the first round of morning puking, Dean actually did manage to eat some of the food Cas had bought without another trip to the bathroom toilet, and the angel seemed pretty pleased with it, smiling lightly as Dean chewed on his French toast, like he was proud of himself or something. It was actually kind of cute.

Countless times Dean thought to mention the fact that Cas couldn’t have gotten much sleep if he had gone out so early to buy breakfast, because they hadn’t gone to sleep too early the night before, but changed his mind every time, deciding it would be a lost fight from the start. Cas could be pretty stubborn if he wanted to. He would just have to make sure the angel got some decent sleep once they got to the Bunker.

They left Stratford pretty early in the morning, pretty much driving through the entire day, although making the necessary pauses every few hours for fuel and snacks, as well as lunch and bathroom breaks. By the time it got dark, they reached Wayne, Nebraska, where they stopped to spend the night.

Dean was the one to offer to look for food this time. Cas looked like he wanted to argue, but fortunately he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded as Dean instructed him to ask for a double room, and then Dean was off with the task of finding them dinner.

Soon enough Dean was pushing open the unlocked door of room #14 and walking inside, as instructed by the text from Cas he'd received while waiting for their food at the small diner he'd found, carrying two food containers and catching sight of his bag lying by the foot of the bed and the closed bathroom door, the sound of water running audible through the door, which meant Cas was still in the shower. He seemed really fond of long showers, as Dean had found out throughout the past few days.

He couldn’t help but smile lightly at that. Briefly, he mused about finding whether or not Cas would like the water pressure in the Bunker.

Fortunately Cas didn’t take too long to leave the bathroom; soon enough the sound of the shower running ceased and the door was opening, a wall of steam entering the room before Dean was actually able to see the angel.

Cas walked out slowly, his skin almost dry, though a few droplets of water still danced over his skin. He was wearing a towel around his waist, but that was all he was wearing, and Dean couldn’t help but allow his eyes to roam over the expanse of the angel’s chest, the defined muscles that suddenly had Dean’s mouthwatering and feeling dry at the same time. He licked his lips, openly staring just because he could, honestly.

“I’m afraid I do not have anything to wear of my own, Dean. Perhaps—” Cas paused, apparently just then realizing the way Dean was looking at him. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, honestly; the last time they’d had sex had been three days ago, and they hadn’t done anything at all since. His body was starting to complain already, and the fact that Cas had decided to parade around with only a towel wrapped around his waist, skin still slightly damp after a shower, wasn’t helping matters at all.

“Well, I’m not complaining about that,” Dean smirked at Cas, standing up from his seat by the table and slowly walking toward the angel, their gazes completely glued to each other’s as he moved.

Resting each of his hands on either side of Cas’ face, Dean pulled the angel to him, lying a slow and careful, very clearly sensual kiss on his lips, and he smiled when he felt Cas’ tongue invading his mouth, claiming it as his own. He let one of his hands roam over Cas’ naked back, loving the way the firm muscles felt under his palm, while the other went straight for the angel’s hair, tugging and pulling lightly at it, prompting Cas to tilt his head and deepen the kiss even more.

At some point they stopped kiss, and as Cas started to work that glorious mouth of his down Dean’s chin and over the skin of his neck, Dean hurried to begin taking off his jacket as he felt his body quickly heating up with desire, the soul bond already flaring between them. He was already panting and half-hard, and he was still wearing clothes. He had to do something about that.

Also, his mind briefly provided the fact that they would probably get to the Bunker tomorrow, and since Dean had no idea how exactly that was going to work out, he suddenly became very aware of the fact that this could be the last time they would be able to have sex in a while.

Still, as Dean let his jacket fall to the floor at their feet, Cas paused his work, breathing heavily over the side of Dean’s neck. “You sure?” he muttered against the hunter’s skin, which immediately sent goosebumps running all over the human’s body.

Dean closed his eyes, struggling to form some sort of coherent thought. He was confused at first, because it really wasn’t like Cas didn’t know Dean wanted him already, but suddenly it became clear to Dean just why the angel was asking him this now.

“Gabriel gave us the green light, didn’t he?” he replied, eyes still closed as his breathing just refused to calm down. His heart was already racing and they hadn’t even done anything. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a nervous, hormonal teenager anymore, damn it. But then again, he _was_ a hormonal pregnant man, and he had no idea what exactly that meant. “And anyway, pregnant women have sex all the time, right?” At least that was what he thought.

Because sex couldn’t hurt the baby, right? Gabriel had mentioned Dean couldn’t be tossed around too much during hunts, but that was it. He hadn’t said sex was off the table; they just couldn’t go too overboard, that was all.

Cas seemed to have reached the same conclusion as Dean, because suddenly his lips were occupied again, pressing kisses to every single inch of skin they could find on Dean’s neck. “I believe so, yes.” He sounded a little breathless, and the rushed tone in his voice had Dean smiling lightly.

Well, it seemed they had reached an agreement, then.

Dean began to push Cas backwards soon after that, wordlessly urging the angel to sit down onto the edge of the bed and hurriedly lowering himself onto Cas’ lap, straddling the angel’s waist with one legs poised on each side of the Cas’ hips. He still supported his own weight for a while, not quite allowing their groins to touch just yet, instead simply allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of kissing Cas, of feeling the angel’s lips dancing against his own, tongue eagerly exploring the human’s mouth as the hunter let his own tongue tangle with Cas’, licking and tasting hungrily as his hands massaged the angel’s muscles shoulders and back.

It was Cas who pulled him down, the angel’s hands gripping tightly onto Dean’s hips and urging the hunter’s body to finally rest against Cas'. Their erections touched, and even through the fabric of Dean’s boxers and jeans and the fluffly towel Cas still had for some reason wrapped around his own waist, the sudden friction was still enough to render a breathless moan from both of them.

Dean rolled his hips a few times, loving the way Cas gasped into his mouth with every touch of their hardened cocks, and he would smirk to himself if he wasn’t a little preoccupied with letting out a string of broken moans of his own.

“Someone’s enjoying himself,” Dean whispered against the angel’s mouth as he paused his movements for a second, a smirk playing on his lips and somehow managing to let out the three words in the correct order and coherently, so he really deserved an award for that, in his opinion. His mind had all but left him at this point.

Cas responded with a roll of his own hips, this one a lot rougher than what Dean had been doing, which caused the hunter’s eyes to roll back as he gasped and moaned at the same time.

“Shit, Cas.” _Holy fuck._ Cas was trying to kill him, seriously.

If that wasn’t enough, Cas also growled into his ear, a deep, guttural sound that went straight to Dean’s dick, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Dean couldn’t agree more.

Cas rolled his hips again, and Dean whimpered, but somehow managed to pull away from the angel just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He wasn’t even done with it, hadn’t even gotten it off his head, when he felt Cas kissing his bare chest, letting his curious tongue run over the overly sensitive skin of Dean’s nipples, causing the hunter’s back at arch into the touch.

Where the hell did Cas even learn all this stuff? He’d caught himself wondering that more and more lately, and at some point he really should ask Cas about it.

Not right now, though. Nope, definitely not. He was busy right now. _Very_ busy, in fact.

Finally Dean managed to toss his shirt to the side, letting it fall onto the carpet before pulling Cas’ face to his and locking their lips together once more, their urgency growing with each frantic heartbeat, with every breathless gasp. At some point Dean lost his pants, shoes and socks, though he wasn’t sure exactly how or when that had happened. It didn’t matter, though, not when Cas was suddenly lifting him and turning around so he could carefully place the human onto the bed on his back, not allowing their lips to part for longer than what it took for him to toss his towel onto the carpet and rid Dean of his boxers.

Cas fit between Dean’s legs perfectly, hovering over the hunter, but for some reason not resting his weight onto the human’s body. Dean almost complained, but then it occurred to him why Cas might not want to put too much pressure onto Dean’s stomach and changed his mind, deciding to just kiss Cas instead, letting his hands roam over the muscles on the angel’s back, basking in the feeling of them tensing and shifting under his palms. He found he really loved that.

Cas aligned their bodies perfectly as he kissed Dean, easily finding the right angle that had their erections brushing deliciously against each other’s with no problem at all as he rolled his hips against the hunter’s. Dean responded with a few rolls of his own, but let Cas take the lead for the most part. He really enjoyed this side of Cas, this dominant side of him he’d only let out when they were in bed together, the one that he still hadn’t seen enough of, but that he already knew he would never get tired of.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean breathed out, closing his eyes as he felt his heart hammering against his ribcage. The angel didn’t respond, simply continued working his mouth over Dean’s stubbled jaw and over the hunter’s neck, now alternating between kissing, licking and biting softly against the skin.

Cas didn’t stop there, though, nor did he go back up to kiss Dean’s mouth when the human tried to tug at his hair and bring his lips back up to his. No, Cas began to go down instead, tracing the defined contours of Dean’s body carefully with his lips, laying heated kisses to every inch of freckled skin he encountered as he traveled lower and lower. He moved slowly and with attention, like he feared he might miss a detail from the body below him if he moved too fast. Dean couldn’t understand what that made him feel exactly; his insides felt warm as he realized this was the first time someone had looked at him with so much adoration in their eyes during sex. He didn’t think he really deserved it, but the feeling it gave him, of seeing Cas all but worship his body like that… the feeling it brought to him was unbelievable.

And holy shit, could Cas use his mouth beautifully when he wanted to.

The angel made his way over the hunter’s chest slowly, then took his time kissing a trail down Dean’s stomach until just below the human’s navel, where he finally stopped, tearing his lips from Dean skin and pausing. Dean looked up at him, confused by the lack of Cas’ lips on his skin all of a sudden, but instantly realized what was going on as he caught sight of Cas staring down at Dean's erection, a hint of hesitancy clear in his deep blue eyes.

“Cas…” He didn’t want Cas to feel like he needed to do anything he wasn’t ready for, even if Dean felt his cock twitching at the single thought of Cas giving him a blowjob. But he couldn’t ask that of Cas, not when the angel still had so little experience in bed.

“It was very enjoyable, when you did it to me,” Cas finally looked up at Dean, and the hunter was slightly taken aback by the eagerness he saw in them. Also, he just now realized how thin the angel’s blue irises were right now, his pupils blown with arousal, his hair completely disheveled. It was quite a sight to see, if Dean was honest. It was a good look on Cas.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, Cas,” Dean hurried to reply, raising his body from the mattress, so it was easier to look up at the angel, supporting his weight onto his elbows. “I know you’ve never done it before.”

Cas shook his head lightly, but he didn’t look dubious at all. No, in fact, if anything, Dean’s words only made his conviction even more intense in his bright blue eyes. “I want to,” the angel said with another nod, and Dean was actually a little surprised with how there was no doubt in the angel’s voice, his hesitation from earlier now all but gone from both his voice and face.

And there his dick was, twitching happily and begging for attention because Cas had just offered to freaking _blow_ him, and why was he still talking?

“Alright,” Dean let out breathlessly, nodding a few times, “Okay. Just…” Why was his mouth so dry all of a sudden? “Careful with the teeth.”

Cas nodded, looking pleased with the answer he got for a moment, but soon enough he allowed his eyes to fall back onto the hunter’s throbbing erection, licking his chapped lips. Dean’s breath shook at the sight, his dick twitching once more, precome leaking and running down its length.

Dean swallowed, trying to steady his breathing as Cas began to lower his head slowly, pausing when his mouth was just a few inches away from Dean’s cock, though still close enough for Dean to feel the puffs of breath escaping Cas’ partially open mouth washing over his length, sending pleasured shivers up and down Dean’s spin in expectation.

And then Cas was letting his tongue run over Dean’s cock, licking his way down the shaft, and Dean’s back was arching off the bed because _holy fuck_ , that felt fucking amazing.

But then Cas made it even better and pretty much sucked Dean’s entire dick into his mouth, and suddenly all Dean knew was the pure _heat_ that was Cas’ mouth around him, pleasure shooting through his entire body in waves with every lick from Cas. Dean arched off the bed again, his hand shooting straight of Cas’ hair as the angel continue to have his way with him.

“Damn, Cas… holy fuck… ah...” Dean’s hips buckled without his consent, even if he was trying his damn hardest not to move too much, since this was Cas’ first time giving a blowjob, and he knew how weird that felt, to have a dick in his mouth for the first time, and then have it hit his throat the wrong way and cough for a whole minute because of it.

But Cas didn’t complain at all about it, and then he was swallowing around Dean’s cock the same way Dean had done to him, no signs of coughing whatsoever, and suddenly Dean realized that Cas might not have a gag reflex or something. That would explain it, at least.

And why the hell was Dean still _thinking_?

“Cas… just like that, fuck, you're, ah... you're fucking good at this… don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop…” Dean pulled and tugged at the angel’s hair, urging him to continue, _begging_ , really.

That mouth was fucking _glorious._ Cas really knew what he was doing down there. He sucked, liked and swallowed around Dean, repeating an endless cycle that had the hunter’s entire body trembling with pleasure, a chain of broken, breathless moans jumping from his mouth.

The soul bond was flaring between them even more strongly than before, making it all the more intense and amplifying every sensation, the connection echoing with their combined arousal, with their closeness. It was almost overwhelming, honestly, and Dean doubted he’d ever get used to it completely.

It wasn’t too late after that when Dean felt the heat growing in his belly, the first few sparks of his orgasm making themselves known. He pulled on the hairs of Cas’ head once more, this time more insistently, warning him, and fortunately Cas seemed to understand that was a request for him to stop, and not a sign of encouragement.

Cas looked up, panting, his pupils blown and hair a complete, utter mess. Dean loved it.

“Was that not satisfactory?” Cas actually sounded worried, so much that Dean had to actually laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, because the truth was the complete opposite of that, had he not made that clear?

“Cas, trust me,” Dean’s own breath was labored, heavy, his voice barely making it out audibly, “But if you don’t stop now, the party will be over way too soon, if you get what I mean.”

Cas seemed to understand, because he nodded a moment after, smirking a little as he crawled over Dean’s form once more so he could kiss the hunter again. Smug bastard.

They kissed for some time, and it was enough to make it possible for Dean to cant his hips up and rub their erections together without coming, basking in all the moans he swallowed from Cas, loving the fact that he could taste himself in Cas' tongue.

Eventually Dean let his mouth slide down to Cas' neck, loving the way the angel let his head fall back and bared his throat at him. "Your turn," he whispered against the angels skin, biting lightly down onto the side of Cas' neck.

Much to his confusion, Cas shook his head. "No. Dean, I..."

Frowning, Dean pulled away, giving the angel a confused look, but then Cas was kissing him again, sliding his mouth over the hunter’s lips before moving on to the human’s neck.

“You said we could take turns,” Cas whispered against his skin, biting it lightly just as the hunter had done just a moment prior, and honestly, although he was still confused, Dean very much liked where this was going, “And I must say, it’s been a few weeks since we last…”

Oh. So  _that_ was why Cas was turning down a blowjob.

Yep, Dean was very much on board with this. “Fuck me, Cas,” he whispered, pulling the angel back up to kiss him.

Soon enough Cas was fumbling with the duffel, looking through its contest as he tried to locate the small bottle of lube. He finally found it, holding it tightly in his hand like it was a treasure or something as he climbed over Dean’s body one more time. He didn’t waste any time before snapping the bottle open and coating his fingers in lube.

Cas didn’t need much coaching this time. Actually, he didn’t need much at all, he just asked Dean every time he added a finger to make sure he wasn’t hurting him, but other than that, he completely took over the reins and Dean loved it, squirming under Cas’ ministrations, his back arching every time Cas found that sweet spot inside of him with a precise curling of his fingers. He took his time, too, observing every reaction he could get out of Dean, like he was filing away every single sound that escaped Dean’s mouth for future reference, every movement his body made in response to his own ministrations.

It wasn’t too long until Dean was squirming under him, panting and begging for Cas to get on with it, that he was open enough already. “Cas, you’re going to kill me like that…”

The angel looked slightly alarmed at the statement, pausing the movement of his hand, although he kept his three fingers inside of Dean. He tilled his head to the side a little, the sight familiar and at the same time a little foreign with how flushed and overall disheveled the angel looked, blown pupils and hair completely messed up. His voice wasn’t calm either; his breathing heavier than normal, loud and making his words harder to understand as he said, “I highly doubt it is possible for someone to die like this, Dean, or in the very least extremely unlikely. Unless—”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Cas, would you please just shut up and fuck me already?”

Cas looked slightly offended, and a little startled at the glare directed his way a moment later, but suddenly he seemed to realize that he was wasting precious time that he could be spending inside of Dean and finally, _finally_ moved things along.

Having Cas inside of him again was amazing. It had been all too new the last time, so much he had been having a hard time believing it was even happening. He had been eager, rushed.

But this?

It was overwhelming. Feeling Cas’ length pulsating inside of him, warm and hitting all the right places as it moved, as Cas canted his hips, thrusting in and out of Dean’s body in a careful rhythm. Cas’ skin was hot, damp with sweat, salty to his tongue, but delicious nonetheless. The angel’s body was firm over him, his movements steady, much more controlled than they had been last time, almost gentle, like he was afraid to hurt him somehow, and Dean knew very well that must be the case right now.

Cas’ breath was labored, sending goosebumps all over Dean’s skin as it hit the side of the hunter’s neck, where the angel had buried his face. Cas’ groans and moans echoed through his entire body, being muffled against his throat. Dean loved those sounds, he was pretty sure he could get off just on hearing them; on listening to the pleasured sounds coming from Cas.

Although he’d prefer if Cas didn’t muffle them. He wasn’t making any effort to be quiet.

Things weren’t gentle for very long. Dean could feel Cas’ control slipping away soon enough, his movements growing careless and urgent, his grip on Dean’s hip growing tighter, his breath irregular, his moans breaking into pleasured gasps. Dean could feel it too, the heat growing in his belly once again, the way he gradually lost control of his own movements, how his body moved with urgency, his hips meeting Cas’ thrust on its own, searching for his own release, his back arching every time Cas hit that sweet stop inside of him...

“Cas,” Dean gasped, his hand gripping the hair on the angel’s head, his muscles tightening without his consent, “I…” He couldn’t talk, couldn’t form words, but apparently Cas didn’t need more than that to get the message.

The angel gripped Dean’s thigh, bringing it around his waist and angling his every thrust expertly, hitting the human’s prostate every time, his hips moving even faster than before.

Dean howled, because _holy fuck, he was going to come._ “Fuck, Cas… Just like that… oh, god, just like that…” His entire body tingled, the soul bond sending an echo of Cas’ own impending orgasm over Dean’s body, sending him into a frenzy as their naked, sweaty bodies slapped desperately against each other… Just a few more thrusts…

They came at the same time. He wasn’t sure who dragged who over the edge, who tensed up first, who moaned first, but suddenly there they both were, gripping each other tightly, backs arching and muscles breaking into spasms as they reached their peaks, Cas' eyes lighting up as they always did, his Grace shining through his skin, making it almost translucent. Dean’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, a silent gasp stuck on his parted lips as his back arched. The bond flared, warming Dean’s entire body from the inside and making his climax even more intense, so much he was sure he must have blacked out at some point.

When he finally came to, he was panting, and Cas was lying on top of him. Well, collapsed might be the right term. Still, Dean noticed there was no weight pressed over his stomach; even completely worn like he seemed to be, Cas still made sure of that, supporting his weight on the hunter’s chest instead, his body angled almost diagonally over the human, just one leg in between Dean's, having slid out of him at some point, too. Dean smiled at that, feeling the angel’s heavy breathing against the skin of his throat, enjoying the way Cas’ heart hammered against his ribcage.

Lazily, Dean let his hands trail patterns on the skin of Cas’ back as they both allowed their bodies to calm down and their heartbeats to slow down. Cas began to nuzzle against the side of Dean’s neck at some point, laying light kisses here and there, which began to grow less frequent as the minutes passed.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” Dean smiled, turning his head a little to glance down at the angel, finding that yep, his eyes were closed.

Cas just hummed in response, clearly very well on the way to sleep.

It took some convincing, but finally Dean got Cas to roll completely off of him so he could clean the mess on their stomachs from his own come, as well as Cas’ come from where it had begun to slip down to his thighs. It was already a bit dry, but Dean managed. The sheets were soiled, but he couldn't do anything about that then, not with the angel lying on them and unwilling to move. He'd just put them in the laundry hamper tomorrow morning.

Cas was asleep by the time he was done, which definitely wasn't a surprise, so Dean just covered him with a comforter and walked over to where their food was already cold. He considered waking Cas up to eat, but he was pretty sure Cas was so worn out sleeping would do him more good. He’d just make sure Cas ate in the morning.

So he heated up his dinner on the microwave and sat down on the small table by the kitchenette, eating silently as he watched Cas sleep, and maybe it was a little creepy, but hey, who was there to see it? It wasn’t like Cas had never done it, too.

When he was done eating, he put the rest of the food away into the small fridge and texted Sam, telling his brother they’d probably get to the Bunker the next night, and then crawled under the comforter, deciding to just sleep naked that night because Cas was naked and he wanted to cuddle him without any layers between them, scooting close to the angel and tucking himself against Cas, sighing contently at the angel’s warmness, already feeling himself slipping into a calm, restful sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean squinted, feeling sunlight hitting his face and seeing it through his closed eyelids, which had annoyingly been enough to wake him up.

Again: the Bunker? _No freaking windows._

Groaning, he flipped over on the bed, following the warmth of Cas’ body he felt behind him. Once he was facing Cas, he scooted forward on the mattress, leaning into the angel’s body with his eyes still closed, but even so successfully managing to bury his face under the angel’s chin, breathing in Cas’ scent in a content sigh. Even in his sleep, Cas’ arms tightened around him and pulled the hunter closer, and Dean smiled at the feeling of their completely bare bodies touching pretty much everywhere, wrapping his own arms around Cas’ middle.

It just felt really good; Dean actually felt like he could stay like this for years.

“You two are slightly nauseating.”

Dean jumped at the sound, sitting up so fast the room started spinning for a moment. Beside him on the bed, Cas sat up as well, the angel’s entire body tense, muscles stiff as he stared at the figure sitting _on the edge of the freaking bed._

“What the _fuck_ , Crowley?!”

The bastard was fucking _smirking_ at them, which only grew more intense when Dean pulled the comforter closer to make sure it was covering everything from his and Cas’ waist down, considering neither of them was wearing anything down there. In fact, Dean was suddenlyvery much aware of the fact that neither of them was wearing  _anything at all._

“Oh, please,” Crowley rolled his eyes, but there was still a clear hint of amusement in his voice, which only made him sound all the more creepy, “Don’t hide the goodies on my account. It’s not like I haven’t already seen what’s down there, Squirrel.”

And now Dean was cursing his demon-self in his head because seriously, why the hell had it seemed like a good idea to just not wear pants in front of Crowley that day? Like, seriously?

Dean felt his face heating up without his permission, and he did everything he could not to meet Cas’ eyes right then, although he could literally _feel_ the angel’s questioning look on his face, which only made the situation even worse. This particular subject was one of the things Dean had secretly hoped would never, _ever_ be mentioned again, because he sure as hell didn’t want to remember it. Also, he definitely hadn’t planned to tell Cas about it.

Damn it, Crowley.

And speaking of which…

“What the hell do you want, Crowley?”

The demon smirked, but fortunately didn’t open his damn mouth to comment on the clear change of subject.

“Well, I figured it would take a few days for you two airheads to kiss and make up, which I was apparently right about. You two have clearly been getting pretty busy,” He gestured at the comforter pooling over their laps, as if the meaning behind his words hadn’t been clear enough already, and Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes, leaning his body back to rest his back against the bedframe. Cas didn’t move from his spot, but he was glaring at Crowley in such a way it was actually a surprise how the demon hadn’t burst into flames yet. “So, I decided it was finally time to talk business.”

Dean immediately tensed up at the word ‘business’, and out of the corner of his eyes he watched the exact same thing happen to Cas, and he knew exactly why. His doubts from two days ago instantly came back to the forefront of his mind; about how they weren’t sure whether or not Crowley actually knew about the nephilim or not.

“What business?” It was Cas who asked, and Dean had to admit he was mildly surprised with just how low his voice had gone, even lower than normal, each of his words laced with just enough of a threatening tone for Crowley to get the message. It sent a chill down Dean’s spine, and if he wasn’t so tense and worried about the King of Hell paying a visit, he knew he would be a little turned on right now.

But since this was definitely not the time for that train of thought, Dean focused all his energy on glaring at Crowley, reminding himself that there was an Angel Blade lying just under the bed if he needed it, just like he did with every motel room he stayed at, which he knew he could grab pretty fast. He _was_  naked, though, but he could work around that little issue if he needed to.

Crowley lifted both his hands in what Dean assumed to be a mocking sign of surrender, though it didn’t look sincere at all. It would be surprising if it did, though, considering whom it was coming from. “No need to go all alpha male, little angel. I’m not here to bring any harm to your precious, defenseless mate.”

If possible, Dean glared harder. He was seriously considering throwing a punch at Crowley right now, buck naked or not.

He still didn’t know how much the demon knew, though, so maybe that wasn’t such a good idea…

He’d just keep it in mind for now.

Ignoring the twin glares being thrown his way, Crowley stood up from the bed, walking a little around the room until he was standing by the foot of the bed, staring down at the two of them with a calm, yet clearly measuring stare. Dean realized he was being careful then, measuring their reactions, like he wasn’t sure what exactly to expect or what exactly they would do.

Good.

“I’m merely here for a little… chit chat, you know, nothing major,” The demon shrugged, “I’m just curious about how you two plan to proceed in your current situation.”

Dean swallowed, still unsure what the full implications of Crowley’s words actually were. He might be talking about the soul bond alone or the nephilim too, and the fact that he didn’t know was making him tenser with every second that passed. “Meaning?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, and Dean could almost hear the demon swearing in his head, calling him a moron, probably, but Dean really wanted to feel out the field, to try to figure out exactly what they were dealing with here. “We’ve all been dealing with _that_ little problem,” Crowley pointed to the bed again, this time aiming for Dean’s arm, the one where the Mark of Cain still resided, “For quite a while now, and we still haven’t come to a solution for it. And judging by the radio silence, I assume your brilliant, life-saving plan involving me retrieving the First Blade that you seemed to have a few weeks ago didn’t work out. So, please enlighten me, Squirrel, what are we doing about our little issue?”

Yeah, ‘we’. Crowley wasn’t here to help; he wasn’t here because he cared. No, he was here because he only cared about his precious throne. He feared what would happen if Dean became a Knight of Hell again, and that was it. What the hell was Crowley trying to play at here?

Dean huffed, but didn’t respond.

“But now you two went and put us on a time clock, considering your Grace,” Crowley turned to Cas, “is on quite of a countdown, angel.”

“We’re dealing with it, Crowley,” Dean snapped at him before Cas could say anything, because this, right here, was the last thing they needed right now—hear a damn attitude from the King of Hell first thing in the morning. Like, seriously, didn’t they have enough to deal with already?

“Oh, are you now?” Crowley raised his eyebrows, his tone growing almost condescending all of a sudden. The urge to punch him made itself known in Dean’s gut once more, but Dean tried to push it down when the Mark perked up in interest in his arm, beginning to burn weakly, but warningly. “Because that’s not what I’m seeing here. Have you been searching for a way to get rid of the Mark? Have you looked for Cain at all?”

Cain. Dean’s eyebrows went up at that, because honestly, he hadn’t even thought about that before. Cain had been the one to pass on the Mark to Dean, so could he, maybe, take it back or something, now that Dean had already killed Abaddon? Could he do something about it? Why hadn’t Dean thought about this before? Sure, Cain had asked Dean to kill him before, but the situation had changed. Maybe Cain could help.

But would he help? Guy was a demon, after all, and he really wasn't the friendly type; he was actually very far from that. So maybe Dean shouldn’t get his hopes up about it. Still, it was worth a shot.

“Oh, you hadn’t even thought about Cain before, had you?” Crowley was smirking, but he actually sounded a little annoyed, “Well, too bad, because the bastard’s gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“I mean that by the looks of his house, he hasn’t been home in months.”

“So _you_ went looking for Cain?” Dean hadn’t been aware of that; hadn’t even imagined it was possible, honestly, so to say he was surprised was an understatement. Crowley had been so terrified of Cain the last time they’d paid the guy a visit that Dean had been sure the demon would never go near that place again.

“No, I sent a few of my men to his house,” Ah, that explained it, “And they came back empty handed. So, any thoughts?”

“Other than you having a terrible timing and being a bit of creep?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the demon once more, “I doubt finding Cain will help. If he’s gone that means he doesn’t want to be found, anyway, and I really don't think he'd be helpful.”

Crowley watched him from a moment, and then his eyes jumped from him to Cas a few times, like he was trying to understand something, his eyebrows slightly frowned. It made Dean uneasy, but he did his best not to show it. “Maybe,” the demon finally announced, letting the word float heavily in the air, although there was a distance to his tone, like his mind was no longer in the conversation somehow, or at least on the subject.

“Of course,” Crowley began walked slowly around the room, eyeing everything around like he was pretending to be interested in the room when he clearly couldn't care less. It was all part of the show, “There is always a way to buy a little more time. If you two break the soul bond, then we don’t have to worry about your Grace, angel.”

Dean wasn’t sure what it was about it. Maybe it was the way Crowley kept measuring their reactions to every word that left his mouth, or maybe it was his tone, which was even more suggestive than it usually was, a hidden meaning clearly lacing his voice as he spoke. Whatever it was, Dean instantly tensed up, because suddenly it became clear in his mind.

Crowley knew.

Cas must have reached the same conclusion, because his entire posture suddenly changed. He hadn’t been exactly welcoming before, but he was suddenly tenser, his body language threatening; a sharp edge flooding into his words. “Not another word, Crowley. That will not happen.”

Crowley looked amused, like that had been exactly the reaction he had been expecting to get, like he was playing with them and finding it amusing. And suddenly Dean wanted to punch him all over again. He was testing their limits, and Dean was having none of it. “Why, no need to get all upset, angel. I’m merely suggesting—”

“Cut the crap, Crowley,” Dean growled, his patience running dangerously low already, and whether it was the Mark or the hormones that made him snap so quickly, he didn’t much care. “That’s enough.”

Crowley’s eyebrows show up, but if anything he looked even more amused than he had before. This was all a game to him, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Touchy, touchy,” He lifted his hands in that same mocking sign of surrender from before, “You really are moody, huh?”

Dean swallowed drily, but didn’t answer. Cas was also silent, his muscles even tenser than before, if that was even possible.

Crowley smirked, clearly sensing their tension, and apparently enjoying it very much, if his clear amusement was anything to go by. “But you’ve already thought about breaking it, haven’t you? It is the first and easiest solution, after all. I wonder, why drop it completely?” He measured the pair, waiting, expecting, testing out their limits. Dean realized he wanted to see just how far they were willing to take this; just how much of this they could take before they blurted it out.

But they wouldn’t bite.

Crowley waited, but finally seemed to understand they were not going to play along to whatever game he had set up in his mind. “Of course, I believe it’s only fair for you two to come to that decision. And now that we’re on that topic, Dean, tell me,” He paced a little more, his eyes fixed on the human, a look Dean could not quite read on his eyes, “How does it feel, to have a little bun in the oven and all that?”

Dean tried not to react to the words, because in some level he had been expecting them since Crowley had first showed up here, but he knew something must have showed on his face, because Crowley was still smirking. “Now, Squirrel, don’t look at me like that. Of course I knew.”

“How?” Cas’ voice was a low growl, the threatening tone of that single words a little startling as it reached Dean’s ears.

Crowley shrugged, unaffected, or at least he was pretending really well not to care that Cas look like he might pounce on him if he said the wrong thing. “Souls—they’re my job. Every time I walk into a room, the first thing I do is reach out and feel every single soul around me, if they’re claimed or not. And as soon as I saw Dean a few days ago, I felt your claim on him, Tweety Bird. But there was something else there, too.” His smirk widened, if that was even possible, his eyes darting down to Dean’s stomach the same way they had done in that motel room, because Dean had even found Cas. It made Dean uneasy the exact same way it did that day. “Just a tiny little spark of light that’s not entirely Dean’s soul and clearly not human, but not dear Castiel’s Grace either. So small it’s barely there, not even formed yet, but another soul nonetheless. And with a claim like that in Dean’s soul and after finding him puking his guts out into a toilet, well, all I had to do was add two plus two. Well, in this case, I believe one plus one equals three should be more accurate.”

“Then why, exactly, are you here?” Cas’ words were sharp, low, like a rumble in his chest that made its way out of his mouth in a growl. His patience seemed to be growing thin as well.

Crowley’s face changed then. There had been a hint of something in his eyes until then, an emotion very close to amusement, a spark of mockery, but that was gone without a warning, leaving in its place something hard and cold, almost calculating, like a mask being slipped on a face, or maybe falling off, Dean had no idea, but either way the change was pretty unsettling.

“I hope you both understand just how complicated you’ve just made your lives with this. You two are way in over your heads, if you ask me. This is possibly the worst timing in History of time for a nephilim to be conceived, but I should have guessed if anyone were to do something like that, it would be the two of you. So if I were you, I would be looking for Cain right now. I should let you both know I expect a call from you telling me you’ve found the bastard. Meanwhile, I’ll hold on to the First Blade to make sure Cain doesn’t get anywhere near it." The Mark hissed on Dean's arm at the mention of the Blade, but Dean ignored it. "I don’t like it when I don’t know what people are up to, and I have no idea why he dropped off the map. I’m a little antsy about that, and if I were you, I would be too.”

And then he was gone, just like that.

Dean blinked a few times, his mouth hanging open as he tried to process what the hell just happen. That wasn’t working too well for him. “Did we just get scowled on by _Crowley_?” Dean turned to the side, glancing over at Cas, who had this frown on his eyebrows, staring at the spot where the demon had been not a full minute ago.

It took him a moment to respond, a few more seconds of glaring at nothing before he finally agreed, “I believe we might have.”

Dean frowned, leaning forward a bit to get a better look at the angel’s face. “Cas, you alright?”

That seemed to be enough to pull the angel out of whatever trance he had been in, because he suddenly blinked, turning his head to the side to finally meet Dean’s inquiring gaze. “Yes,” he responded a little too roughly, the word not sounding completely genuine. After a beat, he shook his head, “I apologize. My instincts are running… a bit high, I would say.”

“Instincs?” What the hell was Cas talking about?

“It is nothing of import,” Cas shook his head a bit more, his face smoothing out a little, growing less glary and more like the controlled angel Dean knew.

Dean wanted to press on, to ask what was up and not simply just let it go, but he knew there were other subjects that should be addressed right now. He could get it out of Cas later, whatever was bothering him. “Do you think Crowley is right, though?” he asked instead, “Are we way in over our heads with this?” The single thought of it was terrifying, and hearing the words said out loud made it even worse, because it wasn't like Dean hadn't been thinking it already.

Cas’ face softened even more, his head coming up to caress the human’s face in what Dean assumed was a gesture to soothe him somehow. Dean leaned into the touch easily. Slowly, the angel shook his head, “I’m not sure what we’ll do, but we’re not hopeless, Dean. We’ve been way in over our heads countless times before, with the Apocalypse, and Raphael, the Leviathan…” The angel leaned in, his voice growing lower with each word he spoke. He rested his forehead against Dean’s, brushing his lips lightly against the hunter’s for just a second, “We’ve beat the odds before, Dean. This is yet another time we have to prove the entire world wrong.”

Dean breathed out, letting his head fall forward, resting his forehead against the angel’s bare shoulder and closing his eyes. He knew Cas had a point, he knew really did, but he also knew Cas was choosing his words carefully, because even he could not assure Dean that they could do this, because he couldn’t be sure of that himself, and that knowledge was so scary Dean wasn’t sure how to process it.

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around his body, pushing him firmly against Cas’ frame, and he let them without resistance. He just closed his eyes, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat, concentrating on the steady beating of Cas’ heart against his chest, the sound of the angel breathing and breathing in his scent, which was something Dean found he rather enjoyed. It was calming, soothing, and eventually he did manage to calm down a little.

Cas must have sensed it, because soon enough he spoke again. “I do believe Crowley is right about one thing, however.”

Dean swallowed drily one last time, before pulling away from the all of warmness that was Cas so he could look into the angel’s eyes. “About what?” the hunter asked, although feeling slightly afraid of what he would get as an answer.

“We should look for Cain.”

Dean nodded lightly in agreement. “Yeah, I think so too.” He was actually surprised they hadn’t thought about this sooner. “Do you think he’ll help us, though? I mean, he’s not exactly the friendly type.”

“I’ve never met him personally, but I assume it could do no harm to try and talk to him. Maybe he would help. He most like would not be able to remove the Mark himself, but he might know something we don't.”

It seemed a little unlikely, but Dean found himself nodding, because if he didn’t try to stay positive right now, he felt like he might actually have a stroke. So much was at stake right now that he couldn’t even consider being negative.

But something was still bothering him. The last time Dean had spoken to Cain, the Knight of Hell had asked Dean to kill him once they met again. And now Crowley had mentioned that he was holding onto the First Blade for them.

The Mark hissed in his arm once more at the mere thought of the Blade, but louder this time, and Dean closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as his hand flew to his arm where it burned, although he knew that wouldn’t be enough to quiet it down.

A hand covered his own, and he opened his eyes to find Cas watching him with a heavy look in his eyes. He had felt the Mark; Dean could instantly tell.

“Dean,” Cas caressed his hand lightly over his arm, “You will never touch that Blade again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Dean swallowed, his throat feeling oddly dry all of a sudden. He didn’t want the Blade, and he knew he couldn’t use it. It would be too risky, and it would give the Mark more power than it should have right now, maybe enough to…

“I know,” Dean breathed out a heavy, tired sigh, but the tension in his muscles remained, even as the Mark seemed to quiet down a little, probably thanks to Cas. He took in a deep breath, deciding that worrying about what might happen wouldn’t do him any good, so instead he chose not to think about it right now. Instead, he chose to focus on something else, “Crowley knows, though.”

He glanced back at Cas, only to find the angel looking troubled once more. He knew they were on the same page on this one; they had talked about it before, worrying about whether or not Crowley would turn out to be a threat to their child. That did not seem to be the case right now, but then again, Crowley was not a fool. He knew that if he tried anything right now, while Dean had the Mark of Cain on his arm, things would not turn out too great for him. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try anything once the Mark was off of Dean, and that was what got Dean so worried. How could they know if Crowley would try anything? How could they see it coming?

“Crowley will not do anything right now,” Cas seemed to be on the same page as Dean, at least, so that was good, “But if he does eventually try to do anything that would bring harm to either of you…” He didn’t finish that, but his message was clear.

Dean nodded lightly in response, choosing once more not to dwell on something he could do nothing about at the moment. “Well,” he sighed, “I think I’ll go take a shower now.”

Cas stared at him a little before responding, that troubled look back to his face all of a sudden. He looked unsure, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words to do it, and Dean caught himself once more frowning in confusion at the way the angel was acting.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, because this was really starting to worry him. Was it something he had done? “You’re acting a little weird.”

The angel didn’t seem willing to respond at first, instead looking more uncomfortable than ever, which only confused Dean even more. It wasn’t a look that fit Cas in the slightest, and he wasn’t sure what could make him feel that way.

Finally, though, once Cas spoke again, he understood.

“What did Crowley mean? When he said he had already… seen everything?”

Oh.

When Crowley had been here, Dean had felt mortified to have the demon say that for Cas to hear. He had felt himself blushing, and he had all but wished for a hole to appear at his feet and swallow him then and there.

Now, though, looking at the way Cas himself looked uncomfortable, like he had no idea what to say, or why he felt so bothered by it; the entire combo actually had Dean chuckling, amused.

Cas was _jealous._

It was actually kind of adorable.

And a little ridiculous, to be honest, because, well, it was _Crowley._

The angel frowned at Dean, clearly not understand how Dean could possibly find any of this funny, looking like he had no idea how Dean could laugh in a situation like this.

“Cas, that was nothing, seriously. When I was a demon I just had no sense for boundaries, that’s all. I might have walked around in front of him with nothing on but a shirt, but nothing happened, okay? Crowley was just screwing with us both.”

Cas still looked a little pouty, apparently considering Dean’s words in his head for a long time before finally seeming to allow his body to relax. “I apologize. I’m not sure why this bothered me so much. I…” Cas looked pretty lost, and Dean actually smiled at it.

“Cas, it’s alright,” Dean chuckled a little once more, still not over the ridiculousness of it, “But seriously, the last person on Earth you should be jealous of is _Crowley_ , trust me.”

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, looking mildly offended, “I am not jealous.”

Dean smiled again, “Yeah, you are. But honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

Cas didn’t seem happy with the word ‘cute’, instead narrowing his eyes even more, which only amused Dean even more, and he actually laughed this time, which only seemed to make Cas look all the more annoyed. The hunter leaned in, kissing him lightly on the lips before standing up from the bed at last, leaving the grumpy angel alone on the bed.

“I’ll go take a shower now,” the human announced, still smiling a little, “I’ll leave some hot water for you.”

Looking over his shoulder, he found Cas watching him walk, the unhappy frown still very much present on his brows.

“Very well,” was all Cas said in response.

Dean shook his head, still finding it a little hard to believe Cas was jealous of _Crowley_ , of all people.

Like, seriously?

As he got into the shower, he fell a little lighter than before. He felt like he hadn’t smiled or laughed in ages, and for just a moment, he decided not to think of all the worries that still lingered in the back of his head, deciding to instead focus on the fact that he had a jealous angel boyfriend (he still hadn't found a better term, and for now, that would have to do) as the warm water ran over his muscles, washing away the tension slowly but efficiently.

And surprisingly, that actually worked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I apparently have a thing for jealous!Cas. I just couldn't resist it. ;) Also, I might have had a little too much fun writing the scene with Crowley. ;P
> 
> Dean, Dean, Dean... Have you not learned that keeping things from Sam doesn't usually work out well? *disapproving shake of head* ;)
> 
> Also, don't worry, Dean will find out the actual color of Cas' wings eventually... ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the unusual amount of typos in the last chapter, but I was extremely sleep deprived when I posted it and I still haven't had the time to come back and edit them. Now that I'm finally posting this I'll go back and finally fix the mistakes, but I wanted to get this chapter out first. I might even edit all the other chapters, too, because I know they probably have typos as well.
> 
> This chapter was pretty hard to write, I gotta say, it took me a while to be happy with it, and honestly, I'm still a little nervous about it. I guess I just wanted it to be perfect, so I kept editing it over and over again. I actually lost count of how many times I read it.
> 
> It's also the longest chapter so far, by the way. XD
> 
> I know a lot of people think Sam knows about Destiel and Dean being bi, and sometimes I think that might be true, and there are other times when I just want to think he doesn't and toy with what his reaction would be to being introduced to the idea of Destiel for the very first time. The second one is the direction I decided to go in this story. Hope you guys don't mind. ;)
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains explanation and mentions of possible miscarriage, implied suicide by a main character and homophobia.

Dean had definitely not expected this outcome.

Okay, so sure, Cas had been jealous of him because of the whole Crowley thing. Dean had actually found it endearing at first, how Cas had become all pouty and pretty much grumpy after Crowley was gone. It was actually kind of cute now that he knew what that had actually been about, why the angel had suddenly turned so sour and moody, almost irritated.

And sure, he had still been acting a little weird when Dean had told him he was going to take a shower, giving Dean a look the human couldn’t quite read and responding with nothing more than a low, “Very well.”

It was odd.

But what was odder was Cas walking into the bathroom a few minutes later while Dean was already in the shower, since Dean had taken an habit of not locking the door like he did when he shared a room with Sam, because, well, there was no need for that with Cas, and the unspoken invitation for the angel to join him was always there, even if the seraph wasn’t quite aware of it. At least Dean wasn’t sure if he was, anyway.

The angel, still completely naked from their activities the night before, had simply marched into the bathroom and over to the shower, before pretty much shoving Dean against the shower wall, attacking the hunter’s mouth with his tongue without giving Dean the chance to ask him what was going on. Dean had responded eagerly nonetheless, licking into Cas' mouth with an urgency that matched the angel's, already feeling himself harden as their bare, wet bodies touched, as the angel let his hands slide over the hunter's skin, sending shivers down the human's spine as his own hands explored the sharp, defined muscles on the body before him, as Cas' own erection brushed against Dean's naked thigh. Dean honestly had been secretly wishing for Cas to join him in the shower for a while now, he'd just wanted to avoid crossing some line by asking, afraid to do something Cas wasn't quite ready for just yet.

Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Cas had brought lube from the room, too, and he was quick to put it to use with clear urgency, hands moving with precision and without any hesitation, a confidence that seemed to only be growing with every time they did anything sexual.

Dean wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten to the point where Cas was pretty much fucking him into the wall, either, but that was where he was now, and honestly, he didn’t have anything to complain about it.

Instead, Dean just closed his eyes, letting his head fall backwards against the wall tiles, feeling his back arch off the damp wall, moaning with his legs wrapped around Cas’ waist as the angel literally supported all of his weight, one of his strong hands gripping the hunter’s thighs, the other one on his hips, keeping him up almost effortlessly. The display of unnatural strength really shouldn’t be that arousing, but honestly, this was the hottest thing Dean had ever done, and he had lived with a yoga instructor for a year, so this was really saying something.

He had never imagined this side of Cas existed; this possessive, hungry part of him that had apparently felt the need to show itself after the whole thing with Crowley. Cas was jealous, Dean knew that, and damn if his way of showing wasn’t amazing. Again, hottest thing Dean had ever done.

He was going to be _so_ sore after this, but he didn’t really care.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean gasped, his hold on the angel’s shoulder tightening in synch with every thrust of Cas’ hips, moans breaking through every word he tried to say, “This is… oh, fuck… so fucking hot… fuck, you’re really getting good at this.”

It was true, after all. Cas seemed to be a pretty fast learner when it came to sex, and Dean definitely wasn’t complaining about that either.

Cas grunted in response, the sound muffled from the spot where his face was buried under Dean’s chin, where he would alternate between kisses and bites. Dean was pretty sure one of those was going to leave a mark, too, because he was already feeling a particular spot on his neck hurt a little, the skin around it throbbing, but that only turned him on even more.

It was no surprise Dean didn’t last long at all. He would be ashamed of it any other day, but the truth was that he wasn’t. No, instead he just basked in one of the strongest orgasms of his entire life, clinging to Cas for dear life as he came. And when the angel followed just a handful of thrusts later, and even in his own ecstasy Dean still managed to smile at the way Cas’ entire body trembled, at the beautiful sight that it was, to watch the angel come undone before him, his skin shining with light, at the feeling of Cas’ hot relief inside his body, enjoyed the sounds Cas made against the skin of his neck through his own climax.

Dean bent down a little once he came down from his high, and while the angle was a bit awkward, he managed to reach Cas’ mouth with his own, invading it with his tongue as he did before, though much more gently this time. It was sloppy, careless, their breaths mingling as they panted into each other’s mouths, and Dean loved every second of it.

At some point Cas allowed him to slide down the wall to his feet, and he was glad Cas didn’t let go of him once he did. He felt unsteady, his legs refusing to properly support his weight, and he might as well be standing on jelly. But Cas held him up, let him support his weight onto him instead, and honestly, that was really the only reason he managed to stand upright as they kissed under the water spray.

Dean had no idea how long they stayed there, but it must have been a while. He just let himself bask in the afterglow, enjoying the feeling of Cas’ hands caressing his naked skin, the urgency before giving place to tenderness instead as Dean enjoyed the warmness of the angel’s firm, built body pressed against his own. He felt light, weightless, like this was a dream somehow, but if it was, he definitely didn’t want to wake up from it.

Once more that little voice in the back of his head made itself known, tried to remind him of all his fears, of how this was too good, that it wouldn’t last, that he wasn’t supposed to have this, didn't deserve it at all, but for once, he actually managed to ignore it.

“You know,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips at some point, pulling away just barely, which apparently prompted the angel to begin laying kisses down the hunter’s throat. Dean gasped at the feeling of Cas' teeth grazing over the skin, his fingers tightening around angel’s hair, pulling lightly at the short, soft strands that made their way into the space between his fingers, “I take it back. You’re not cute when you’re jealous. You’re fucking hot.”

Cas hummed in response against his skin, and apparently he liked what he heard, if the way he bit down onto the human’s skin and sucked against the same spot was anything to go by.

And if they stayed there, trading kisses and caresses until the water ran cold and finally made them get out of the shower, well, who was Dean to complain?

***~*~*~*~***

They went shopping before leaving town, at Dean’s suggestion. Cas seemed completely unwilling to go outside without his trademark suit and coat, but while they were inside, Dean noticed Cas had grown quite fond of wearing something more comfortable, especially to bed. But Cas couldn’t just keep wearing Dean’s same shirt and sweatpants forever, and Dean didn't have much else that might fit the angel's smaller body except for old, worn clothes that had shrunk after being washed for so many years, old band t-shirts that Dean hadn't found it in himself to throw away even if they didn't fit him anymore, but they weren't that many. So they visited a few stores in town, and by the time they were done, Cas had his own duffel filled with his own clothes to wear around in the Bunker, and even Dean had hopped onto the bandwagon and got himself a few news clothes too, since he hadn’t done that in forever. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn something new, to be honest.

Dean also bought himself a new white dress shirt, because, well, Cas had kind of ruined the other one he had, tearing all the buttons off and all that.

When they were done, it was a lot later than they’d imagined it would be, very close to noon, and when Cas had offered to get them some food while Dean waited in the motel room so they could have lunch before leaving for Lebanon, the hunter didn’t even think about complaining. If they had left right then, maybe they would have gotten to the Bunker before it got dark, but Dean felt like waiting a little more.

And alright, maybe he was stalling. He just, well, he just didn’t see any reason to rush to get to the Bunker.

Okay, yeah, he was stalling.

Dean just wanted to wait a little more. Sure, he had been sure this day would come pretty soon since that first day in Absarokee after Cas woke up—how could it not?—but the closer they got to Lebanon, the more worked up and nervous he got about talking to Sam, and honestly, he could use a few more hours to get himself mentally prepared. He had no idea what he would say, how he would say it, how to ever _start_. How the hell was he supposed to tell his brother about him and Cas? About him being bi in the first place? What if Sam didn’t take it well?

Dean hadn’t voiced any of that to Cas, though, mostly because he knew what the angel would say—that Sam wouldn’t mind, that he wouldn’t care, that he wouldn’t think any less of Dean because of his sexuality and that Dean had no reason to worry about it. He had already heard that same thing from Charlie the night he'd left the Bunker a few days ago, but he just couldn’t believe it, no matter how many times he heard it or even tried to let himself believe it, so hearing it a bunch of times wouldn't change a damn thing. He couldn’t be sure if Cas just didn’t know about all the doubts that were still floating around in his head or if he knew and chose not to say anything, but either way, Dean was glad he hadn’t brought it up at all.

And maybe what made it worse was the fact that he had never done this before. He had never actually come out to anyone before, ever; hadn’t even thought he might someday either. The only people who knew were Cas and Charlie, but both of them had known beforehand, somehow. Well, Cas had known because of his angel mojo, which had let him sense Dean's… ‘longing’ or whatever Cas had called it, and Dean hadn't really had to come out to him in Omaha; everything just kind of happened that night. And Charlie had pretty much guessed on her own, having apparently drawn her conclusions by herself, and well, they were pretty much on the same boat on this one anyway. Point was, it was different with them somehow.

But Sam? Dean was pretty sure Sam had absolutely no idea he wasn’t straight. Dean had worked so hard to paint a picture for himself throughout his entire life, building up this whole straight alpha male façade for years, because that was what his father had expected from him. If he was honest with himself, he had never thought he would ever tell Sam about any of this. But now, here he was, trying and failing terribly at getting himself ready to tell his brother he was bisexual.

How did people even do that, anyway?

Maybe he should talk to Charlie first. She could tell him how she’d done it (if she had even done it herself as well, considering she'd lost her family pretty young), or ask for tips or something, because honestly, he was completely lost here, and he could really use some help.

Sitting down onto the edge of the bed in their room as he waited for Cas to come back to the motel with their food, Dean tried to get himself to calm down once more. Maybe he was getting worked up about nothing. Maybe everything would go well and he was here, agonizing on his own out of complete and unreasonable paranoia.

And anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to tell Sam _everything_ so soon.

Looking down, Dean lifted his right arm slowly and rested his hand against his stomach, something he found himself doing a little too often already, rubbing the tip of his fingers against the fabric of his shirt. Closing his eyes, he let a shaky breath leave his lungs through his mouth. This always felt weird, but every time he thought about it, about the fact that there was actually a baby growing in him in that very moment, he just felt… this weird rush, this thrill coursing through his veins, like every time he remembered it, he was finding out about the pregnancy all over again. He couldn’t explain it, it just felt weird, but not in a bad way. Maybe he still hadn’t wrapped his head around this while pregnancy thing, which really wasn’t surprising, if he was honest. He had just learned about it four days ago, anyway.

He couldn’t tell Sam about the nephilim, at least not yet. He just… he just couldn’t. He just wasn’t ready for that. He would at some point, he knew that, but for now…

For now, he’d focus in trying to get used to the idea himself.

***~*~*~*~***

Castiel exited the restaurant with big, hurried strides as he made his way to his car. Dean was waiting in their motel room, and he was probably hungry, so Castiel should probably get there soon. He and the baby needed the proper nutrition at the correct time throughout the day, and it was already some time past a usual lunch time. He could only hope Dean could eat this without any nausea. He'd found the spaghetti with bologna sauce with a side of baked potatoes quite appealing himself, and he believed Dean would like it, but the hunter's morning sickness was still quite strong and easy to trigger.

They did not have apple pie, however, but they had pecan, and Castiel hoped that would suffice.

Unlocking his car, he placed the package with food on the passenger seat right beside his own, inserting his key into the ignition, ready to turn it and start the engine.

“Yay, you got pie!”

Castiel nearly jumped on his seat, his hand flying from the still unturned key as he turned his body to the side as he reached inside his coat for his Angel Blade, where he had grown used to leaving it now. At full power, he could hide it in another plane, making it manifest whenever he wanted and slide to his hand at only a thought, but he no longer had the strength for it, and it would be incredibly foolish of him to waste his Grace on the task, although reaching for the blade inside his coat took longer, especially in situations like this, when he was caught off guard. He had not felt anyone approaching and there had been no one in that car with him one second ago.

“Gabriel.” He felt his body relax once he caught sight of the archangel sitting on the passenger seat, but he frowned once he realized Gabriel had the food bag resting on his lap and was staring at what resided inside of it, going through the contents as if he had any right over any of it. “That food is not for you.”

Gabriel glanced up, finally meeting Castiel’s gaze, clearly feigning offense because of the statement. He rolled his eyes a second later when Castiel’s expression did not waver, putting the bag down to rest on the car floor by his feet, muttering, “Alright, touchy, touchy.”

Castiel waited until the archangel had leaned back on his seat to finally ask, “What are you doing here, Gabriel?” He couldn’t be sure about what the archangel’s intentions here were, especially after the way Dean had angered him the last time they had spoken.

Gabriel did look mad, however, his stance not at all tense, so that must mean something. He even smiled a little, although it bordered on a smirk, as he said, “Well, it’s good to see you too, little bro.” Castiel frowned, unsure how to respond, and Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes once more. “You really have no sense of humor.” His voice was not at all annoyed, however. Castiel was convinced he could hear a hint of amusement in it.

Castiel wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not, so he decided to ignore the comment. “I was not expecting to see you again so soon. Not after…”

Gabriel shook his head a little, looking out the windshield at the restaurant before them, although his gaze did not seem focused on it. There was suddenly a somber expression hovering over his face, like a cloud covering his features, his eyes distant and almost detached, like his mind was suddenly elsewhere, far away from that car. It actually took him a moment to say anything. “Yeah, sorry about that, by the way. Dean pushed me, but I snapped a little too quickly. Let’s just say these past few years have been no walk in the park for me, and I tend to get a little short.”

Castiel nodded, feeling oddly relieved to know Gabriel had not completely dropped the possibility of helping them. He still had his doubts about the archangel’s intentions, but it set his mind mildly at ease to know Gabriel could still turn out to be of great help to him and Dean, were they ever to come against the entirety of Heaven to protect their child.

That was, if Gabriel even had the intention to stick by their side if they were to ever be discovered by Heaven. Castiel was still unsure about that.

“Anyway, I have to talk to you about something, Cassie.” Gabriel turned around on his seat so he was facing the seraph once again. His eyes had grown more serious without a warning, heavy almost, and Castiel instantly sat up a little straighter on his own seat in expectation, still not sure what to expect from Gabriel at this point. “It’s something Dean should probably not know about for now, so I had to wait until you were alone.”

Castiel frowned, confused, wondering what Gabriel could possibly tell him that Dean should not know about. “And why would I not tell him, whatever it is?”

“Well, if you want your mate and child to live, you won’t say a thing.” Castiel’s entire body tensed at those words, and he knew Gabriel must have noticed it, although the archangel had no reaction to it, didn’t comment on Castiel’s behavior at all, his voice growing even lower than before as he added, “Trust me, Castiel, stress is one of your biggest enemies here.”

Not entirely sure what Gabriel could mean by that exactly, Castiel asked, “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The Mark wants the nephilim dead. It doesn’t like something that is part angel growing inside its host. You know that already, obviously. But the thing is, while your Grace is burning out, it doesn't need to focus on killing the nephilim, because if it manages to kill Dean, it kills all three of you. Your borrowed Grace will not be able to fight the Mark if that happens, it'll burn out in minutes. And can you guess how exactly the Mark can do that?”

Castiel paused, but not immediate answer came to mind. He knew the Mark could try to cause some sort of internal hemorrhage, or it could raise Dean’s levels to fatigue to a dangerous point that could have his body shutting down due to organ failure, maybe even speed up his heartrate to a point where Dean could have a heart attack, but his Grace would not allow any of that to happen while they were bonded.

At Castiel’s silence, Gabriel added, “And I know what you’re thinking—the obvious answer: internal bleeding, organ failure, all that. But, there’s an easier way right now, and that is exactly what the Mark will go for, if you ask me.”

“What easier way, Gabriel?” Could Gabriel be right? Could there be something Castiel had overlooked?

“Well, here’s the thing. When a female bears a child, they have the entire equipment ready: uterus, birthing channel and of course, the exit where the baby will come out of. But that doesn’t happen with males who bear a nephilim.”

“I am aware of that,” Castiel replied, not understanding where exactly Gabriel was going with this conversation, “My Grace has been making all the adjustments Dean’s body needs for the pregnancy, and it will continue to do that until the nephilim is born.”

“Exactly,” Gabriel nodded, “But that will happen gradually, and pretty much like clockwork. Which means you Grace will only provide Dean’s body the means to pop out the little one when it is the right time for him to give birth. Which means—”

“Early labor.” Castiel’s eyes widened. Suddenly, it clicked. The meaning behind Gabriel’s words became clear to his mind, and a wave of pure dread washed over his insides at the mere thought of it. “The Mark will attempt to make Dean miscarry.”

Gabriel’s eyes seemed to grow darker once again as he nodded. “The Mark will try to push Dean’s body into labor before the right time, which will cause his uterus to try to expel the nephilim without having anywhere to expel it to. The contractions will grow stronger and eventually the uterus will rip. Dean won’t last long after that, and neither will the baby.”

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling once more the terrible tendrils of dread crawling their ways into his mind. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to lose them; couldn’t even allow the thought of it into his head.

Still, he wondered what would happen if he had his original Grace again, as unlikely as that seemed to be in his mind. He knew he would die along Dean while his Grace was burning out, as Gabriel had already told him, since the Mark would without a doubt overpower him and his stolen Grace would pretty much burn out instantly under its influence once it no longer had Dean's soul as a power source. But what would happen if he had his actual Grace, which could not be burnt out like that, which could recharge and fight the Mark's power for itself? Would it be able to protect Dean and the baby somehow? Would it be able to stop an early labor before it killed Dean and their child? What would happen then?

“I know I would not survive something of that sort with another angel’s Grace, but what would happen if I had my own Grace? Would that prevent anything?”

Gabriel shook his head, once more glancing away from Castiel. “You want my guess? You wouldn’t die because of the Mark, but your Grace would not save Dean or the baby. They would still die.”

Castiel swallowed, following the archangel's gaze, looking away and back at the restaurant, where a family was walking through the doors—a man, a woman and two little boys, both probably around the age of 5, one possibly one year or two older than the other, although he could not tell his exact ages without allowing his Grace to wander.

While he had been expecting that answer already, it was still not easy to hear it.

“Dean wouldn’t turn, of course, but I’m assuming the Mark wouldn’t let him go anyway. I mean, something like this has never happened before, but if you want my opinion, I can tell you that the Mark will find a way to turn him.”

“That’s impossible, Gabriel,” Castiel said, although weakly, because he had been told he was terribly wrong so many times during the past few days, having found out several of the things he had once considered to be impossible were in fact very much viable. This he was sure of, though, so he turned back to Gabriel, allowing an ounce of conviction he did not entirely have in him to pour into his voice, “An angel and a demon cannot maintain a soul bond.”

“I’m not saying it will turn him while bonded to you, Cassie, because I agree with you, that won’t happen,” The archangel shook his head, moving his gaze back to the seraph, “But it won’t let go of Dean’s soul either. My guess is that it would trap his soul into his body for as long as it needs to, as any demon will do to the owner of the body they possess, waiting for the connection to your Grace to fail so it can turn Dean's human soul into the one of a demon. And then it will focus all of its efforts in you, Castiel.”

Castiel swallowed drily, closing his eyes. Somehow, he already knew what Gabriel was implying, but he still asked, “What efforts?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Gabriel’s voice came from beside him, low and heavy, but Castiel kept his eyes closed, as if not looking at the archangel would make hearing what he said easier somehow, even though he knew that was nothing but foolishness. “You and I both know what losing Dean and this child will do to you, Castiel. And the Mark will use that against you. It has an open channel to your mind with the soul bond, and it will do everything it can to make to lose it. Illusions, memories, anything. And honestly..." Gabriel's voice grew even lower, turning into nothing more than a weak, fragile whisper as he finished, "I don’t think it would take much.”

Castiel heard a breath escape his lips, but he didn’t really feel it. He felt almost numb, his throat dry, his entire body suddenly overcome with a feeling of tiredness he could not quite shake. It wasn't entirely a physical feeling, though. He couldn’t quite explain it.

He knew Gabriel was right, and the heaviness of what the archangel was implying settled onto his shoulders like stones. He could lose _everything_. All it would take was a moment of distraction, and everything would be lost. Dean and the baby…

“And I also should let you know, Castiel,” Gabriel himself let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t think Dean will be able to carry to term while bearing the Mark. It will get easier for the Mark to make him miscarry the longer he is into this pregnancy, especially with you running on borrowed Grace. Honestly, with the Mark, I doubt it he will even make it past 40 weeks.”

40 weeks. Dean was about 5 weeks along now, a little less than that, so that gave them possible something over 35 weeks to fix both his fading Grace and the Mark of Cain. That gave them until the very beginning of November. After that, misacarriage was a very vivid possibility.

“Gabriel, I…” He closed his eyes, just then realized he was shaking, small tremors running through his muscles as his nervous system responded to what he was hearing. He took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He had never experienced such a strong sense of panic before, and honestly, it was overwhelming. He felt like he was suffocating, like the car around them was being crushed and the metallic walls were about to close in on him, and he could not figure out how to make it stop…

“Castiel, you need to calm down,” Gabriel rested his hand on his shoulder, squeezing a little, surprising the seraph, because he had never seen such and open, actually _worried_ look on the archangel’s face.

Numbly, Castiel nodded, understanding the unspoken message in Gabriel’s voice. He had to get his emotions in check. He had to be careful about what he allowed to spill into the bond, what to tell Dean, what to do…

But most importantly, he needed to stay calm, because Dean could not know about any of this. Castiel understood that now, why Gabriel had waited to speak to Castiel when the seraph was alone about this, without Dean by his side. It would only cause the human more worry, and that was something they had to avoid at all costs. There was already enough weighing down on the hunter’s thoughts at the moment. Dean did not need any added stress right now. High levels of stress were known as a risk factor to cause early labor, so Castiel had to make sure Dean was not too stressed, at least not more than he already was. The Mark would for sure jump at any chance it found to trigger an early labor, and Castiel would have to do anything he could to prevent that. Because that was all Castiel  _could_ do.

Once he felt calmer, Castiel finally found it in himself to ask, “Why are you doing this, Gabriel?” He didn’t mean to be rude, not at all wishing to trigger a similar reaction from Gabriel to the one the archangel had had back at the cabin. He was just actually, honestly curious, had been since the archangel had first shown himself in their cabin back in Absarokee. He was still not sure what to make of Gabriel’s presence, but he was starting to think maybe they had misjudged him. Maybe he really did deserve a chance to redeem himself, whatever his reasons for it were.

Gabriel looked down at the question, like he was not sure how to respond to it, a gesture that was so unlike him it surprised Castiel. It was a human gesture, a trait the archangel had of course picked up during the several years he’d spent amongst humanity, although it did not fit him at all. “You’re one of the good ones, Castiel,” Gabriel looked back up, the look in his eyes so hard to read Castiel could not help but frown in confusion. The archangel smiled a little, although it did not reach his eyes at all. There was a clear hint of sadness in his gaze, one so strong it was almost somber, like a sign of mourning, of grief, which only confused the seraph even further, “Don’t you ever forget that.”

And with that, he was gone, the sound of his wings cutting through the air as they moved echoing in Castiel's ears for a moment still. The seraph looked down, finding that the bag of food no longer rested on the floor of the car, having been returned to its previous spot on the passenger seat. Its position was different from how Castiel had left it, however, more centered on the seat instead of leaning against the backrest, and that was the only hint left behind, the only thing that confirmed Gabriel had been there at all.

***~*~*~*~***

They got to Lebanon at some time after midnight.

Dean had been tired for hours already, and he was pretty sure Cas must be exhausted too, after such a long drive. He had looked pretty tired already during lunch, and Dean knew he hadn’t been sleeping well throughout the past few days. He had been quiet too, especially after he was back with their food in Wayne, and most of the time it looked like his mind was miles away. When Dean had asked the angel about it, though, all Cas had said was that he had not slept too well, but he insisted he was fine, and that Dean shouldn’t worry about it.

Dean had frowned, and honestly he found it pretty hard to just let it go, but eventually Cas’ mood seemed to shift, probably because the angel seemed to realize it was bothering Dean so much. Dean still wasn’t sure what that had been about, and he had a feeling there was something Cas wasn’t telling him, but he’d decided that could be dealt with after the long car ride they still had ahead of them for the day, and maybe a few good hours of sleep.

“Well, we’ve made it,” Dean smiled as they walked through the door that connected the garage to the rest of the Bunker, each carrying their own duffel. Cas had actually offered to carry Dean’s bag as well as his own, but the human had just rolled his eyes at him, because he might be pregnant, but that didn’t mean Cas had to treat him like a freaking girl. He didn’t say the words out loud, though, afraid that either Sam or Charlie could be lurking around and accidentally hear it, because that really was no way to tell them about this, but even without voicing that thought, Dean was pretty sure Cas got it.

“Finally,” Cas breathed out beside him, turning on the lights as they walked. Everything was dark, even in the library, so Dean assumed Sam and Charlie were asleep by now.

They made a pause in Dean’s bedroom to leave the duffels, and while Dean made the bed ready for sleeping, changing the sheets and taking out two comforters from his closet because it was really freaking cold for the beginning of March in Kansas, Cas went off to take a shower. Cas had actually suggested they slept in separate rooms just for this one night if that would make Dean feel more comfortable until he told Sam about them, but Dean had told him no, because he was telling Sam in the morning anyway. He definitely didn’t want their first night in the Bunker to be spent in two different rooms.

Cas was back from his shower soon enough—even sooner than Dean had expected, because again, the angel seemed to have grown very fond of long showers, so he really must be pretty tired to shower that quickly—wearing a dark gray shirt and a new pair of boxers they had bought for him. He looked almost human, and although that notion was definitely not a good thing at the moment, Dean liked how comfortable he looked. He could really get used to this, he realized as he watched Cas fall onto the bed and crawl under the covers.

“Do you plan on staying awake until I get back?” Dean chuckled, because he already knew the answer to that question. It was clear that by the moment he walked out of the room door, Cas would already be dead to the world.

Dean heard a muffled reply that didn’t sound like anything coherent, and he laughed once more, bending over the edge of the bed to lay a kiss onto the side of the angel’s head. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of the angel lying on his bed, for some reason the fact that Cas was here, in his room, lying on his bed in the Bunker, where the angel would be spending the night with him, sent this weird, warm feeling spreading through Dean's chest. It made everything more real, to be in a familiar place, like all the nights spent in the cabin in Absarokee and in random motel rooms throughout the past few days had been nothing but a dream, and this was reality.

Fetching a change of sleeping clothes for himself, Dean left the room and headed for the bathroom. He took a quick shower, and soon enough he was walking back out into the hallway, though instead of heading for the bedroom he took a turn and began to walk toward the kitchen to eat something before he went to bed. They had had stopped to eat dinner on the way, but his stomach was already complaining, asking for more food.

Briefly, the thought that he was eating for two now crossed his mind, but he ignored it for now. Still a little too much for him.

Soon enough he was rummaging through the fridge, humming quietly to himself as he looked for stuff to put into a sandwich. The fridge was stocked, which was a bit of a surprise, but maybe Dean should thank Charlie for that. Oddly enough, the jar of pickles on the side looked pretty appealing, even though he had never really liked pickles. Would pickles taste good with peanut butter? He had never had that, and for some reason he couldn't stop wondering what the combination would taste like, so maybe he should try it.

What about jelly? Or maybe some mayonnaise? Ham? Cheese? No, no, turkey breasts. And cream cheese. No Nutella, though, because that would be weird.

He couldn't choose, so he decided to just get a bunch of stuff out and see what he felt like putting into a sandwich as he made it. Yeah, that sounded like a great idea. It had been a while since he’d last made a good, big sandwich for himself, and he already couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Dean somehow managed to balance everything on his arms, closed the door of the fridge with his foot and turned around to deposit them on the table to start making his delicious sandwich.

And that was when he noticed the freaking moose standing by the door with a freaking pistol.

“Jesus, Sam!” Dean almost dropped everything he was holding, but somehow managed to regain his balance quickly enough before everything tumbled to the floor, “Wear a damn bell, for fuck’s sake!”

Sam hurried to lower the gun, his eyes wide, and the look on his face made it obvious that he was finding it hard to believe what he was seeing. “Dean,” he finally let out, and the next thing Dean knew was that there were two arms around him and his brother was crushing him into one of his bear hugs. The angle was a little awkward, though, because Dean's arms were full and he couldn't hug Sam back, but they managed. “Took you long enough to get here.”

Dean smiled, in spite of everything. He had really missed Sam. Of course, he had also spent the last few hours agonizing about what he would say to Sam the next time he spoke to him, so that feeling was quickly beginning to make itself known again.

Somehow, though, he still managed a small laugh as Sam pulled away a moment later, “Yeah, well, we kind stopped a lot in the way.”

Sam looked like he was about to comment, but then he suddenly seemed to notice the items still residing in Dean’s arms, and he frowned. “Dude, what are you doing?”

Dean shrugged. “Sandwich,” he replied, stepping around his brother so he could put his ingredients on the table and go looking for some sliced bread, which he fortunately found a package of in one of the cabinets.

When he turned back around, though, Sam was staring at the jar of pickles like it had just offended him or something. “Seriously?” His brother lifted the jar, giving him an incredulous look, and Dean knew he wasn’t talking just about the pickles.

He shrugged in response, sitting down at the table and opening the package before him, pulling out four slices of bread, laying them all on the table before him. Sam sat down as well, just watching him for a moment, but not saying anything. Dean knew his brother wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find it in himself to break the silence, so he just continued work on his sandwiches. He eyed the peanut butter and jelly jars for just a moment before changing his mind about putting them in the sandwich, because maybe they wouldn't go too well with the rest.

So he reached for the mayo instead. He was pouring out some mayo onto two of the four slices of bread, spreading it on the surface with a knife, when Sam finally cleared his throat, the sound of it oddly loud after the kitchen had been quiet for so long. Dean hoped Sam didn’t notice how he immediately tensed up because of it.

“Dean, I…” Sam swallowed visibly, clearly choosing his words carefully, and Dean already knew exactly what he was going to say, “You said we’d talk about this once you got back, and I know you’re tired, but…”

Dean paused his knife a little, swallowing drily, because he had been prepared for this question, had seen it coming minutes before Sam had finally asked it, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak right away. So he finished pouring his mayonnaise on the two slices of bread and rested the jar back onto the table before he actually managed to get any word out.

“What do you wanna know?” he asked, doing his best to sound calm, and then reached for the pickle jar. It felt good, to have something to do while he talked. It grounded him a little.

“This soul bond,” As if Dean didn’t already knew he would start with that, “What… what is it, really? I mean, what does it do?”

“I mean, it’s literally what the name says. My soul… it’s bonded to Cas’.” He decided to leave the whole 'angel mating' part of the explanation out for now, “Our minds are linked, kind of. I mean, we don’t hear each other’s thoughts, but we can talk through thoughts if we want to, and we project strong emotions or something. And it gives me super healing, which is pretty cool.” He decided to stop then, instead of listing all the consequences of the soul bond Cas had told him about, because that really shouldn't be the focus of this conversation.

He looked down at the pickle jar, twisting the lid and getting it open without meeting Sam’s eyes. With a fork, he began trying to fish one of the pickles out of the jar.

“Is that it? What about the Mark?”

Dean swallowed, pausing his movements for a moment before he picked up on it again, removing one pickle from the jar and placing it on one of the slices with mayo. They were pretty small, so he would need to put two on each sandwich, maybe even three, and there would still be a lot of room left for the slices of ham, cheese and turkey breast. Too bad he didn’t feel like cooking up some bacon, because that would go great with this. Pushing that thought away before his mouth could start watering, he put the fork back into the jar, trying to get a second tiny pickle out.

“The bond is numbing it for now,” Dean was actually surprised at how calm he sounded as he said it. He got another pickle and placed it beside the other on the bread, and quickly went fishing for a third one.

“But?” Because Sam just had to know there was a ‘but’.

Dean paused his fork, letting out a heavy sigh. He looked up at his brother then, because this was where things got pretty complicated, and he found Sam watching him with careful, almost pleading eyes. Damn that puppy dog look. Dean couldn’t win with it.

“Cas’ Grace is fading,” The words sounded heavy even to his own ears, his voice strained and almost pained, “The Mark is numbed for now, but the more Cas’ Grace burns out, the harder it is for his Grace to block it. And if it does burn out…”

“You both die,” Sam’s own voice sounded grim as he looked down at the table, and even though Dean knew Sam had already been aware of this beforehand, his brother still seemed like he needed a moment to take it in.

So Dean waited, going back to his sandwich, placing the third pickle on the slice and fishing the three other pickles he needed for the other half, before getting himself busy with the cheese and ham, making small rolls with the slices and placing them beside the pickles onto the slices of bread.

“Is there a way to break it?”

And here we go…

Dean let out a breath, because he had to handle this calmly. This was where it got tricky. He had to explain this to Sam without telling him about the nephilim, without giving anything away he didn't feel like he could tell Sam just yet.

“Cas tried that already, and the spell almost killed us both.”

Sam didn’t seem convinced, however. “Well, maybe there’s another spell, or something else we could try. Maybe we could…”

“We’re not breaking this bond, Sam.” A second later Dean realized he might have been a little too harsh, but the words had escaped him without his consent. He hadn’t thought this would be an issue, he really hadn’t, and honestly, the last thing they needed right now was Sam trying to find a way to break the soul bond. They _couldn’t_ break the bond, but he couldn’t explain to his brother why exactly they couldn’t do it.

Of course, he knew Sam wouldn’t insist on it if he knew what would really happen if this bond was broken, but Dean couldn’t tell him, not yet. So for now, he just had to buy more time. That seemed to be all he was doing lately, honestly.

“Why not, Dean?” Sam was frowning, his voice a little higher than usual, almost desperate, like he couldn’t possibly understand how Dean couldn’t agree with him, “This bond could kill you both, and if you don’t—”

“It won’t,” Dean was happy to hear how firm his voice sounded, and he was even gladder to see how it instantly made Sam go quiet, because that meant his confidence had been convincing enough, “Sam, this bond is recharging Cas’ Grace. It’s taking more time to burn out because he’s using my soul as a second battery. And I know you might not like it, but we’re not breaking it. We’ll find his original Grace, and then all we have to deal with is the Mark.”

Dean turned back to his food then, making it clear he wasn’t leaving any room for an argument. He added the turkey breasts the same way he had done with the cheese and ham, making a few rolls with the slices and placing them neatly onto the bread, and closed the two sandwiches, deciding that maybe cream cheese would fit the sandwich as well, while he let Sam stew, and while his brother didn’t look happy about it, he seemed to have been convinced for now, and that had been the point anyway, so Dean felt pretty happy with himself as he picked one of his sandwiches up and bit down onto it.

“Holy…” He groaned, because how had he never thought about this before? This was freaking delicious. There was just so much flavor he couldn’t even grasp all of them together. He loved it.

He looked up at Sam, who was staring at him with a look of almost disgust. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Dean glared, taking another bite of his marvelous sandwich, making sure his mouth was full as he said, “You’re just jealous of our love.”

Sam pretended to dodge a few bread crumbs that flew his way, scrunching his face up even more in clear disapproval of his brother’s manners. Dean smirked at him in response, and only chewed even more enthusiastically with his mouth open.

Sam huffed, shaking his head but otherwise choosing wisely not to comment. Instead, he picked up the bread package and opened it, pulling out two slices. With one of the clean, unused knives that were still resting on the table, he proceeded in making a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich for himself.

How boring.

They continued eating their respective sandwiches in silence for a while, Dean waiting for Sam to ask more questions, because he knew his brother wanted nothing more than get more answers to all the doubts Dean knew were floating around in that big, nerdy head of his. Dean could see it as clear as crystal, but he still waited, choosing to let Sam do the probing by himself.

Eventually, he did.

“You said Cas was healing you in Omaha,” Sam paused his eating, holding the remaining half of his sandwich in his hand as he watched Dean carefully, “When the bond formed.”

Dean chewed slowly, shoving the rest of his first sandwich in his mouth and gaining the few seconds it took for him to swallow his mouthful to respond. This was it; this was the moment he had been absolutely dreading for the past few days, the one he had for years been sure would never even happen. He could already feel it; the way his stomach suddenly felt empty even though he was eating right now, and at the same time it felt heavy, like there was a stone sitting in it, how it fluttered weirdly, the nervousness quickly sneaking into his body in one huge, powerful wave.

He let out a heavy breath, deciding he would have to do this slowly, or else he wouldn't be able to do it at all. “It did happen in Omaha,” he nodded slowly, “And Cas did heal me there, but… that wasn’t exactly how the soul bond was formed.” He could already see the look of surprise on Sam’s face, could see his brother sucking in a breath to say something, ask him why he had lied to him probably, so Dean hurried to add, “And I know I told you something differently, but I just didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone, because…” Dean swallowed once more, feeling his throat growing dry the more words that left his mouth, but he was met with little improvement. In fact, it actually made it a little worse.

“Because…?” Sam’s voice was tentative, but surprisingly not reprimanding. He was frowning, too, and there was that careful, almost hesitant look in his eyes his brother wore when he knew he had to tread calmly. Briefly, Dean wondered if he was really being so obvious about how uncomfortable and nervous he really was, but he allowed himself to be glad that his brother could read him so easily; that Sam could already tell this wasn’t going to be something easy for Dean to talk about, even if his brother had lied to him about it and Sam had no idea what could possibly be making Dean act like this.

Swallowing once more, Dean forced the words out of his mouth, “Sam, you remember that time we spent in Georgia once? When you were like, 9?”

Sam frowned, this time clearly for a whole different reason than before. Dean could see the confusion flooding his eyes as his brother tried to understand the abrupt change of subject, but Dean just waited for him to allow it, because there was no other way for him to do this; he couldn’t think of another way to slowly steer the conversation in the right direction.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam finally nodded, although hesitantly, “The town with the amusement park, right? It got into town just a few days after we got there, and you took me there once.”

Dean smiled at the memory, even though the very end of their stay in Georgia had been nothing but a traumatizing memory for him for years. It had one of the few times when Dean had had some money to spare even with buying food, and Sam had begged him so  much to take him to the fair, Dean hadn’t resisted the puppy dog eyes, even though the orders he’d gotten from his father had been to only leave the motel for school or food. He still remembered the wide smile in Sam’s face, how his entire face had lit up in amazement at all the lights and attractions, how he seemed to be struggling to take everything in, how he couldn’t seem to decide what he wanted to do first. It was a time when his little brother still didn’t know why exactly they moved around so much and had no real worries in his head, and it had been good to watch him so happy like that.

And if Dean had allowed Sam to go in a few more attractions than he'd originally planned to, and then proceeded to eat less than half of what he usually did in the next two weeks to pay for it so their father wouldn't be suspicious, the smile in Sam's face, the look of pure joy in his little brother's eyes, the content laugh that would constantly jump from his lips—all that made it worth it in the end, and Dean would have done it again in a heartbeat.

He felt a pang of nostalgia at the memory, at the thought of a much simpler time in his mind. The memory was so distant it almost felt like it was from another life.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Dean swallowed once more, snapping back to reality, and although the memory had lifted the weight off his shoulders a little, he still felt like there was a heavy stone sitting in his stomach, and it seemed to grow heavier the longer this conversation went on. “Dad was hunting a siren a few towns over, and he took a while, so we went to school there for a few weeks.”

Sam nodded, his confusion apparently growing with every minute, “Yeah?”

Looking down at his still uneaten second sandwich, Dean let out yet another breath. Why the hell was this so hard? Why did he have to beat around the bush like this? Why couldn’t he just outright say it and be done with it? It would be just like a band aid—you rip it off in one go so it doesn’t hurt too much for too long. Quick and easy.

And yet, he couldn’t for the life of him do that here.

“Do you remember when Dad came back from the hunt?” Dean winced at the memory, the sound of his father’s voice still too clear in his ear, even after all these years, even after all that had happened since then, even with how much he himself had changed, “The fight?”

Sam thought for a moment, tilting his head a little to the side and narrowing his eyes as he clearly tried to fish for the memory in his brain.

Dean could instantly tell the moment he did remember it, because he knew this was no fond memory for Sammy either, although his little brother hadn’t even known what exactly had been happening at the time. That was the age around which Sam started to hide from Dean and John’s arguments, meaning he would either bury himself under the covers in his bed and tuck his head under the pillow or hide in the bathroom, the second one mostly at Dean’s requests to keep him out of harm’s way.

John had never really gotten violent with them, although Dean had always been cautions of his father when he drank. He was a very, very irritated drunk, and he did get to the point of tossing stuff around and punching things (including walls) while yelling sometimes, and while he had never raised a single hand at either Dean or Sam, Dean would always make sure Sam was out of harm’s way if that would ever happen.

And that night, Dean had been sure that would be the first time. He still remembered it, the way he had been frozen on his spot, just expecting a blow that surprisingly had never come, flinching every time his father moved his arms as he spoke, and he could only guess that he hadn’t received a punch to the jaw because his father hadn’t drunk too much that particular night.

His brother had been sleeping when the yelling had started, and when Sam had woken up, he’d gotten the hint soon enough and made a run for the bathroom, just like Dean had taught him. He still remembered the look on Sam’s face after their father had stormed out of the room, slamming the door and making the pictures hanging on the walls rattle inside the room, his brother peeking out of the bathroom with tears streaming down his cheeks and wide, fearful eyes.

“Was that the time he broke the lamp?” Sam inquired, his expression dark all of a sudden.

Dean nodded tightly. “Yeah. Do you…?” He swallowed, looking down at his waiting sandwich once more, but he decided against picking it up until he was finally done with this, so looked back up to meet his brother's gaze as he asked, “Did you ever hear what it was about?”

Fortunately, Sam shook his head in a negative response. “No, I... I always tried not to listen, when you guys fought, you know, covering my ears," Sam's shoulders lifted slightly in a light, weak, almost sheepish shrug, "And you wouldn’t tell me later.”

Right.

Before Dean could say anything else, Sam leveled him with a look that had him pausing, feeling tense under his brother’s gaze, wondering what exactly was going through his head. But he couldn’t even read Cas’ mind, even if they had a ‘mental link’ or whatever that seemed to only tell Cas what he was feeling and not tell Dean anything, basically, so there was no way he would figure out what Sam was thinking, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Why are you bringing that night up now, though?”

And there it was—the question Dean had been both expecting and dreading, because his chances of stalling were growing smaller, and he knew he would have to open up soon. The words were there, just on the tip of his tongue, but for the life of him just couldn’t get them out.

So instead, he said, “It was my fault.” At Sam’s confused frown, Dean added, “The fight, it was my fault.” Dean swallowed, not waiting to read Sam’s expression as he looked down, instead choosing to focus his gaze on the patterns in the darkened wood of the kitchen table top, tracing one of the darker lines with the tip of his finger. He had to do this. He _could_ do this. But why was this _so damn hard?_ “I was just a few months from fourteen, and Dad had already started to ask me about girls and stuff, you know? If there was any that caught my eye and pretty much encouraged me to go for it every time I so much as mentioned a girl, so I thought…”

Feeling his throat clogging up all of a sudden, Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat, suddenly seeing John’s irate face in his mind, his father’s skin red with rage, so much Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t even breathing as he screamed. Dean closed his eyes, letting out a breath that without his consent came out a little shaky as the image still played behind his eyelids.

“I thought I could ask him. He’d never said anything about it, and I didn’t think he would…” Another breath, this one heavier, but a little more controlled as Dean struggled to keep a grip on himself. “He’d always been so eager to talk to me when I asked him for tips on how to ask out girls, and I just asked the one wrong question I should have never asked him.”

Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on his face, but he couldn’t look at his brother. Rubbing his hands over his eyes, Dean decided to just let it out, let the words tumble out of his mouth before he could think twice about it, before he could stop himself from saying them.

“I asked him how different it was to ask out a boy.”

Dean wanted to look up then. He knew that sentence had been a breaking point, but he also knew that if he looked at Sam’s face now he might not be able to get everything out, and surprisingly, now that he’d gotten the first part out of the way, the rest just flowed out of his mouth, and he let it, blurting everything out while his mind couldn’t catch up with it and make his mouth stop moving while he kept his gaze fixated on the table before him.

“And then Dad was yelling and cursing and all I could think about was why I had even opened my damn mouth in the first place. And the way he looked at me when he came back to fetch us the next day…” He shook his head lightly, feeling like he was once more under that gaze, the hard, disappointed look on John Winchester’s eyes that had haunted his thoughts for years, “So I never talked about it, ever, or even thought about it. I just ignored it. Until…”

It almost hurt, to keep looking down, to not know if Sam was looking at him with his face scrunched up in disgust or with a disappointed look on his face like his father had, but he still wouldn’t look up, because he just _had to get this out…_

“Until after he died and I was going to Hell, so I thought, ‘what the hell do I have to lose?’ And I…” Swallowing once more, he breathed in and out through his nose, trying to calm down, because right now his filter was not really working and he really didn’t want to overshare with his little brother, especially since he had no idea what Sam’s reaction to any of it would be. “Well, it turns out I’m…”

Why was this word so hard to get out? It had just slipped his tongue with Cas, like it was nothing, but now...

Now he felt like his tongue was made of cement and was too heavy to move accordingly to what he wanted it to do.

He could do this. He had to do this. He had to say it to Sam, at least just once. Sam deserved to know.

Finally, with one final breath escaping his lips, he managed to let out in a weak, hesitant whisper, “I’m bi.”

Silence. Nothing happened, and Dean still refused to look up. For a moment, he felt almost numb, like the entire world had just paused around him, holding its breath in expectation, just waiting for something to happen, _anything._

But nothing did. The silence was heavy and too loud in his head, and he had to know what Sam was thinking, had to know what to expect here, because honestly, he had no freaking idea what Sam's reaction would be.

So he looked up.

The expression on Sam’s face wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting to see.

Sam looked lost. Like he had no idea what to say, his mouth hanging open and then closing and opening again, but no sound came out of it. He looked surprised, too, but that was really all Dean could make out of his expression, and he had no idea what was going through his brother’s head in that moment, so Dean was already beginning to freak out.

“Dude, say something,” Dean pleaded, feeling the way his heart was already speeding up in his chest. He shouldn’t have done this, should he? He shouldn’t have…

“Why did you never tell me?”

The question was asked with nothing but pure curiosity. Dean couldn’t read anything into the words, not even by the tone of Sam’s voice. There was nothing for Dean to guess; nothing for him to work with in those words, no hint of anything that Dean could try to understand.

“I…” Dean swallowed, shaking his head, “I just, after what happened with Dad…”

The words his father had all but spat at him would always ring in his head, had always been too clear in his head, like John was always there, beside him, screaming insults into his ears, using a vast and colorful choice of words to describe what he thought of Dean…

“Did you really think I…?” The surprise was back to Sam’s face, this time flooding into his voice as he spoke, “Dean, did you really think I would have a problem with it? That I’d actually…” The word floated in the air, the sentence left unfinished, although Dean knew exactly what he wanted to say.

_That I’d have the same reaction as Dad?_

“You don’t?” Already a knot had started to unfurl in Dean’s stomach, but he still had to hear Sam say it, he had to actually _hear_ it.

Sam shook his head, looking at Dean with an expression very close to disbelief. “Of course I don’t, Dean. I thought you knew that. How could you even think that?"

Okay, yeah, Dean had known Sam was pretty much okay with this kind of stuff. Well, he knew Sam wasn’t the kind of guy to mutter insults when a gay couple walked by and he had definitely never said anything about Charlie, but Dean just never… He just hadn’t known if maybe… This wasn't like...

He had really been worried about nothing, hadn’t he?

Dean chuckled, in spite of everything, but the sound came out more nervous than amused. “I know you’re okay with Charlie and all, but I just…”

“Whatever Dad said to you that night went in too deep.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean swallowed, but nodded. Sam had got it quickly enough, at least, had gone straight for the right answer, but then again Sam had always been pretty good at reading him. He had always been the smart one, anyway.

“Dean, I need you to know this,” Sam sat up straighter on his chair, his voice gaining certain urgency without a warning that actually took Dean by surprise, “Whatever Dad said to you, he was wrong. He might have been our father and a great hunter, but he was a close-minded, stubborn bastard when he wanted to be, and he had no right to do what he did to you.”

Dean swallowed again, this time actually feeling a lump forming in his throat. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t find his voice to do it, and either way, Sam was still talking.

“And Dean,” Sam smiled a little at him, almost encouragingly, just a tiny, shy thing in the corner of his mouth, but it was still hard to miss, and it made the weight on Dean’s shoulders suddenly melt away, “I don’t care, okay? You have to know that. You’re my brother, and that’s what matters. This doesn’t change anything.”

Somehow Dean managed a smile back. He had no idea what to say now that Sam knew, because he had literally just told Sam his most kept secret and Sam was acting like it wasn’t a big deal, like he’d never really had a reason to hide it in the first place. He felt his eyes stinging a little, but he held it back, because he had already come out to his brother, there was no need to cry about it like a little girl. Not even if his damn hormones thought he should.

This was just a little overwhelming for him, hearing Sam saying the exact things he’d wished to hear, the same ones he had feared terribly that he wouldn’t. Sam was saying that he _didn’t care_.

“Thanks, Sammy.” The words came out whispery and a little weak, but Sam smiled in response, almost relieved that Dean had actually believed him, like he had believed his brother wouldn’t somehow. Dean looked down again, taking in a deep breath to try and steady himself before any tear managed to break through. And as relieved as he was that Sam had taken this so well, this conversation wasn’t over just yet, so he gathered all the courage that had blossomed in his chest with Sam's acceptance before it faded away and said, “Anyway, there’s kind of a reason why I’m telling you this now.”

Sam nodded a little, looking like he had been expecting to hear that already. “And I’m assuming that reason has something to do with all those hickeys you’ve got there.” The bastard was smirking now, for fuck’s sake.

Dean ducked his head, feeling his face heating up as he remembered his morning with Cas in the shower back in Wayne. He had forgotten about the hickeys, to be honest, although he hadn’t really planned to run into Sam here in the kitchen. He would have covered them up in the morning, but well, his brother had caught him by surprise. And did Sam really have to point them out?

Dean smiled, nonetheless, unable to stop it before the corners of his mouth had already risen without his consent, and apparently that was all the answer Sam needed.

“So, what, you’ve got a secret boyfriend you want to introduce me to?” Sam’s voice was light, joking, but there was a hint of something else in it that had Dean pausing. It sounded almost hopeful.

Dean smiled more openly this time, because Sam was taking this so well it was almost hard to believe it. He felt lighter somehow, like a thousand pounds had been lifted off his shoulders, all the worry he had been bottling up all of his life was suddenly gone, just like that.

It was a little disorienting.

“Actually…” How was he supposed to say this, though? What exactly should he and Cas call each other? They hadn’t talked about this before, and honestly, he still didn’t know. He knew they were ‘mates’, in angel terms or whatever, but in human terms, what exactly were they? Boyfriends still didn’t feel right. “I kinda do, yeah.”

Sam’s face broke into a wide grin, but there was a clear hint of surprise in his voice that did not go unnoticed by Dean, “Seriously?”

Dean nodded, smiling back, because how could he not? His brother, in spite of his surprise, sounded actually  _happy_ to hear that. “Well, it’s… a little more complicated than that, but sort of, yeah.”

Sam frowned, but he was still smiling as he asked, “Complicated how?”

“Well, it’s…” Why was this suddenly so hard? Sam had taken everything so well, why should this be a problem? “You already know him, actually.”

And that seemed to have Sam _really_ confused. His brother’s frown was one of the most intense Dean had ever seen in his life, and it would have been a comical sight if Dean hadn’t been so nervous right now.

“Is it a hunter?” Sam asked, but didn’t sound sure of his guess, like he was already expecting a negative answer.

Dean nodded, but with a shrug following, because that wasn’t the best way to describe Cas. “Kind of, yeah, but not really.” He fidgeted a little as Sam paused again, feeling more nervous with every second that passed.

His brother’s confusion seemed to grow exponentially, and Dean could almost see the cogwheels turning in that big brain of his as he probably went through a mental list of all the men he’d ever met in his entire life. And yet he didn’t seem able to reach the right conclusion by himself, but honestly, Dean couldn’t really blame him. Cas really wasn’t the obvious answer here, he knew that.

“I don’t…” Sam shook his head, “Have I met him recently? I mean, did we work a job or something?”

Dean almost chuckled, but he held it back. “It’s been a few weeks since you last saw him. Actually,” Right, Sam hadn’t been conscious when Cas had healed him in Omaha. So the last time Sam had seen Cas had been after the whole fiasco with Metatron in the dungeon, “It’s been over a month.”

And that only seemed to confuse Sam even more. His frown couldn’t possibly get any deeper, or else his eyebrows would actually meet. “But how could I have—” He stopped himself short, and his eyes widened all of a sudden. Dean could almost heard the click in his brother’s brain, the moment he finally got it, probably realizing the reason why this topic had started in the first place and how Dean had just gotten back from a trip with a certain angel; how the only being who could be considered a hunter and male Sam had met recently apart from Dean was…

“You and _Cas_?”

Freaking finally, Sammy.

Without meaning to, Dean smiled, but he let it show freely this time, not even bothering to hold it back. It was still surreal, but it was true—he and Cas were really something now. “Yeah,” he replied, nodding a little, “We’re… together, I think, kind of.” And we’re kind of having a baby together, too, but that’s a story for another time.

If he was confused by Dean’s indecision on putting a name to his and Cas' relationship, Sam didn’t show it. He looked more surprised than anything, struggling to wrap his head around what Dean had just told him. Honestly, Dean didn’t blame him at all. “But, how did you two…? When…?”

Well, that question was an easy to answer, finally. “Omaha.”

And now more pieces were coming together in Sam’s brain, his entire face lighting up with understanding. “Wait, so you guys…?”

Dean chuckled a little at how his brother seemed very unwilling to finish that sentence, but not in a bad kind of way, more like in the ‘I’m-your-brother-and-I-just-find-out-you-and-my-best-friend-are-together-and-it’s-too-new-for-me-to-think-about-you-two-having-sex’ kind of way. So he decided to fill in the blanks for Sam, but being mindful enough to leave out the details he was certain his little brother did not want to hear.

“Well, after Cas healed you, I took him to our motel room so he could rest, and when he woke up again, well, we got to talking, and somehow one thing led to another…” Dean shrugged a little, leaving the sentence hanging in the air, assuming Sam would be able to connect the dots on his own after that.

“So you guys have been together for over a month?”

Dean shook his head. “No. We… Things turned out a little differently than what I expected, honestly.” At Sam’s confused look, he added, “In the end we were both knocked unconscious and got our souls bonded by accident in the process.”

Understanding flooded his brother’s features once more. “Well, that does make more sense than Cas not healing you right,” Sam pointed out, and then suddenly frowned again, “Wait, you were knocked unconscious?”

“Yeah, I was out for three days, Cas for two.”

“So that’s why you didn’t come to the hospital sooner.”

Dean shrugged, “Well, I did forget to leave a number, but yeah, I would have gone there to check on you every day if I had been conscious, Sammy.” And it was the truth; he would never have just abandoned Sam in a hospital like he’d said he had; of course he would never do that, ever.

Sam smiled at the response, but soon enough he was frowning again, “But why did Cas just drop off the face of the Earth, then? You said he’d left because of some angel business, but I’m assuming that’s not exactly what happened.”

“No, he, uh…” Dean shook his head in response, “He took off before I woke up.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and Dean could easily tell why. He, too, didn’t think Cas would be the type to do that, so it made sense for him to be confused, just like Dean had been when he’d first realized Cas was gone. “Wait, so he pulled a ‘you’ on… you?”

Dean rolled his eyes, glaring a little at his brother. “Seriously?” Shaking his head, he decided to let the comment go. “He left because he thought I’d be mad about the soul bond or something, and he tried to break it. Then I found him in Absarokee, and we talked, and…” Dean ignored the smile that began to spread in his brother’s lips once more, “Well, we worked things out.”

Sam paused then, glancing down. He looked like he wasn't sure what to say, but there was still a smile playing on his lips. "I just... I'm just a little surprised, I mean, it's  _Cas._ He's just not... I mean, it's just hard to picture him with someone, you know?"

And because Dean was Dean, he couldn't resist the joke, a smirk playing on his lips as he drawled, "You know, it's a little creepy that you're trying to picture me and Cas in your head."

Sam glared at him, "Screw you. You know that's not what I meant."

Dean chuckled, but still nodded, because he knew exactly what Sam had meant. He had shared that same idea concerning Cas for years until that night in Omaha. "Yeah, I get it. I was pretty shocked, too, trust me. That's actually why I never told him..." Dean stopped himself, suddenly realizing he was already sharing too much.

But Sam wouldn't let that go, of course, and even though he probably didn't know what Dean had been about to say for sure, he still seemed to get it. "How long?" he asked, his voice just a shy, tentative whisper, like he was dealing with a frightened, wounded animal.

Dean swallowed, letting out a low, "Years." He didn't elaborate, didn't tell Sam he'd found Cas attractive from the moment they'd met in Illinois, didn't start giving Sam an exact timeline of the first time he'd realized he actually  _wanted_ Cas, or of when he realized he was in love with the angel, and Sam didn't ask for one anyway. Sam didn't even know how deep Dean was, anyway, and for now, Dean would like to keep it that way. The last thing he needed was this getting back to Cas somehow and scaring him off or something.

Sam had paused again, his eyes earning this weird look that had Dean shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"What?" he asked, frowning, because he had no why Sam was looking at him like that and it was quickly beginning to freak him out.

"You're happy." The words were breathy, low, but filled with such wonder it actually caught Dean by surprise. There was another smile tugging at the corner of Sam's mouth, a weird, heavy look in his eyes Dean could not entirely read.

Dean let out a breath, unable to fight the smile that took over his own lips. "Yeah," the word was out without thought, but it was the truth nonetheless, "I am."

Sam's smile widened, this time actually showing teeth, and there was not another way to describe the espression on his face but joyful, happy. "Dean, this is great. Seriously, this is..." He shook his head, apparently changing his mind about what he'd been about to say, "I'm happy for you. I mean it, really."

Dean could hear it in his brother’s voice, see it in the way his eyes had brightened up and his smile could light up a dark room—the pure sincerity, the _happiness_ he was all but emanating in that moment, it had all the knots that had been filling Dean’s insides during the past few days about this conversation to unravel at once. If he had known coming clean with Sam about this would feel that good he would have done this sooner.

It was a little surprising, though, if Dean was being honest. He hadn’t expected such a cheerful reaction out of his brother, even in the best case scenario. He had never imagined his brother could be this happy because he was in a relationship, but then again, they just never talked about this stuff. It was just easier that way.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean smiled, “That really means a lot. Seriously.”

Sam smiled back, and then went back to his sandwich, and Dean took it as his cue that he too was allowed to continue eating. He wasn’t all that hungry anymore, but he dug into his masterpiece anyway, because how could anyone let good food like that go to waste?

It was after a few bites that Sam broke the silence again. “Also, Dean, I…” He let out a breath, as though trying to choose the right way to say whatever it was that was in his mind, “I’m happy you told me. About everything. I mean, knowing you, this must have been pretty hard for you.”

Dean nodded, although he did feel very much aware of the fact that he hadn’t told Sam everything. There was still something very important that he was letting out, something he knew Sam had every right to know. And in that moment, staring at Sam’s big, thankful eyes, Dean wanted to tell him. His hand hovered over his stomach under the table and out of Sam’s sight, and he sighed. The words were there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he _couldn’t say them_. No matter much he wanted to, how guilty he felt for keeping this a secret from his brother, he just couldn’t say it out loud just yet.

So instead, all he found himself saying was, “Well, let’s just say I’m glad the conversation is over.”

And Sam chuckled, not once questioning if there was anything else Dean had meant to tell him, so there went his chance.

Yeah,  _that_ was why Dean wasn't going to tell him now.

Aside from the nephilim, though, Dean knew there was still one more thing Sam didn’t know, but this one he knew he could talk about.

“There’s something else.”

Sam looked up from his food, his eyebrows shooting up. He looked a little surprised, but it was gone soon enough. “Alright,” He nodded slowly, “What else?”

“The hunt? The one Cas and I worked in Absarokee?”

Sam nodded once more. “Yeah, you told me it was a Trickster, and that you and Cas took care of it.” His expression shifted a moment later, however, a weird understanding taking over his eyes as he seemed to sense exactly where Dean was going with this. “But I’m guessing that’s not what happened.”

“Well, actually,” Dean shook his head, letting his voice hang in the air for a moment as he tried to find the right way to say this without giving too much away. He had to tell Sam about Gabriel without giving anything about the nephilim away, “It was a trickster, but not exactly what we expected, if you get what I mean.”

It took Sam only a moment. He was shaking his head just a few seconds later, his disbelief clear, but Dean knew he had already connected the dots on his own. “Are you telling me that…?”

Dean nodded. “Gabriel is alive and kicking.”

A huff escaped Sam’s lips, and he shook his head once more, apparently having a little trouble as he let the news sink in. “You know, I guess I should not be this surprised.”

“I guess not. I mean, it’s not the first time the guy’s faked his own death.” Only the other time they hadn’t known he was an archangel, and he hadn’t pretty much let them deal with the end of the world by themselves, but those were just details.

“So he didn’t die?”

“No,” Dean shook his head again, “He just pretended to, so he could get away. He said he was too weak to help with anything after the hotel, but he’s been fine and hiding for years now.”

Another huff from Sam, this one a lot more annoyed. “Again, not surprising.” Running his hand over his stubble, Sam grew silent for a while as he seemed to go over what he’d just heard in his head, thinking it all through. “Why was he in that town, though? There’s no way that was a coincidence.”

“Actually, it wasn’t. He was there because of us.”

Sam frowned, confused, just as Dean had been the first time he’d heard it. “But what did he want with you?”

And that was the part where this all became a little tricky. He felt terrible about twisting the story around for Sam, he really did, because he hated lying to his brother. But what else was he supposed to do? He wasn’t ready to tell him about everything.

“According to him, he wants to help us or something.” Disbelief instantly flooded Sam’s face, but Dean didn’t let him comment. “He said he would try to find something on the Mark of Cain and Cas’ Grace.”

“Why would he do that?”

And there, right there, was the million dollar question. Dean still had no idea what Gabriel wanted with them, or why he was being helpful all of a sudden, after being MIA for years, or more importantly, why he seemed to care so much about what was going on with them and the nephilim.

“No idea,” Dean shook his head, shrugging, “I don’t like it, really. He’s too shady, and he just popped up all of a sudden wanting to be helpful. I don’t buy it, and Cas doesn’t trust him either.”

“Yeah, I don’t either.” Sam looked down, placing his food back onto the table, and his eyebrows furrowing a little. “But Dean… What if he is trying to help? Don’t you think, you know, that an archangel could be…”

“Helpful?” Sam nodded, and Dean let out a breath, because he had been thinking about that very same variable since Gabriel had made his first appearance in the cabin back in Absarokee. And Sam was right, just as Cas was—an archangel could be very useful, if he was really on their side.

But they had no idea if Gabriel was really on their side, and that doubt was driving Dean mad.

“I know that, Sam, I know, but…” He shrugged once more, feeling the exact same fear that had been floating around in his head crawling to the forefront of his mind once more, “I can’t trust him like this. Not after all the crap he’s done to both of us.”

“I get that, Dean, and I don’t trust him either, I just…” Sam shrugged as well, tentatively, “I’m just saying it’s worth a shot. We’re a little bit out of options right now.”

All Dean did was nod in response, because honestly, he had no answer to that.

Soon enough Sam was done with his food and off to bed again, leaving Dean behind in the kitchen to finish his own sandwich and clean up—at his own insistence. He felt like a weight had been both lifted and settled onto his shoulders with that conversation, but he felt lighter nonetheless, because while Sam still didn’t know about the nephilim, Dean had just told his brother the very thing he had been dreading to open up about for his whole life.

He would tell Sam about the pregnancy when he felt ready, and he wasn’t there just yet.

Keeping that thought in mind, Dean put himself into work mode, putting everything he had used to make his sandwiches back where he’d gotten it and taking the time to do he dishes that had apparently been sitting in the sink for a few days now. He didn’t even know how long he stayed there until he heard light, slow footsteps coming from the doorway, echoing loudly in the dead silence that lingered in the corridors of the Bunker.

He spun around just in time to watch as Cas came into view by the kitchen door, looking very ruffled from sleep, his clothing rumpled and his hair sticking out in more directions Dean would think possible.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him, drying his hands on the rag he’d been dying the dishes with, a smile finding its way into his lips at the sight of the angel, “Couldn’t sleep?” Cas had seemed so intent on abandoning consciousness when Dean had left the bedroom, the hunter had been sure Cas would not wake up until tomorrow, so he must admit he was a little surprised to see him up and about again so soon. He couldn’t have been gone for much more than an hour.

Cas shook his head, taking a few steps into the kitchen. He took one inquiring look at the plates Dean had been scrubbing clean before turning his gaze back up to meet Dean’s. “I did fall asleep, but then I woke up and you were not there.” The ‘So I came looking for you’ was only implied, but Dean still heard it clearly, as if Cas had said it out loud. “What are you doing?”

“I was hungry, came here to eat something and then got myself busy doing dishes.” Dean let the cloth fall onto the sink. He had done most of the dishes, but there were still some left there. He would get to them tomorrow, he supposed. “Also, I was talking to Sam.”

Cas looked a lot more awake all of a sudden, his surprise evident on his face. It was gone soon enough, though, and a more serious look crossed his features. It looked a little like worry, which had Dean frowning, although it bordered a lot on curiousity. Dean wasn't sure what to make of it. “What about?”

“Us,” It was surprisingly easy to let the word roll out of his tongue, “And the soul bond, of course.”

Cas nodded again, taking the few steps that still separated them slowly, carefully, pausing only when he was standing right before the hunter. “And?”

Dean shrugged a little, but a smile still broke out into his lips. “He’s fine with it. I mean, he’s…” He could barely believe it still, so much it was still hard to say the words out loud, “He’s okay with us, Cas.” He could feel his eyes watering once more, but he kept the tears at bay for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Damn hormones, seriously. This was already getting ridiculous.

“I told you,” Cas closed the distance between them then, wrapping his strong, muscled arms around the hunter and pulling him close. And even if Dean was taller than him, the gesture felt comforting, and Dean closed his eyes as he pressed his nose to the top of Cas’ head, breathing in the now familiar smell of the angel’s hair, letting out a content sigh. “You never had anything to worry about concerning Sam, Dean.”

Apparently not, Dean assumed. Still… “I didn’t tell him everything, Cas,” he whispered, and he knew Cas would know exactly what he was talking about.

Cas nodded against his neck, his hold around Dean’s torso tightening a little, before loosening as the angel raised his head enough to press his lips against the side of Dean’s throat. “When you’re ready,” he whispered in response, his warm breath dancing over Dean's skin and making it tingle.

Dean had no idea how Cas could be so understanding about this, but he was glad. He hugged Cas close to his chest, hoping the angel would get it, that he could feel it through their bond somehow how grateful he was that Cas was so patient with him about this whole thing.

“Now, we should go to sleep.” Cas pulled away from Dean enough to look into his eyes, “We both need rest.”

Dean nodded, because honestly, he couldn’t agree more. His tiredness was even more noticeable now, so when Cas tugged at his arm, pulling him toward the kitchen door and out into the hallway, he complied without a fight, letting himself being led through the Bunker until they found themselves in Dean’s bedroom.

And as Dean held Cas to his chest that night, both of them wrapped around the covers in a warm cocoon, Dean smiled at how right this felt, at how good it was to be able to do this, to have Cas lay with him like this in his bed. And Sam was fine with this. His brother was happy for him, for  _them_.

It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep that night, and soon enough he drifted into a restful, dreamless sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

“Morning,” Charlie smiled at Sam as he walked into the library, “I made coffee.” She held up a mug with steam coming out of it as proof, and he smiled in response as the smell reached his nostrils. Already he felt better, just by the smell of caffeine. He was really dependent on it by now, he realized. His caffeine intake was not healthy at all, hadn’t been for a while now, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to be worried, even though deep down he knew he probably should.

“Thanks, Charlie.” He walked to the kitchen to get himself a mug, and soon enough he was sitting at the table in the library right across the redhead, who was, like always, typing away at her laptop. The constant clicking of her fingers hitting the keys was almost the usual background noise in the Bunker by now, although it didn’t bother Sam at all.

He sipped his coffee for a while, toying with the questions he wanted to ask in his mind, feeling them hanging on the tip of his tongue, but it took him a while to actually get any word out. “Charlie, can I…” He swallowed, glancing down at his coffee, not sure how to approach the subject with her, although he had his suspicions that he didn’t really need to be this hesitant. Still, he found it better to tread carefully, “Can I ask you something?”

Charlie glanced up and away from the screen of her computer, and by the look on her face, she seemed to have sensed the shift in Sam’s demeanor. She stopped typing, leaning away from the computer and against her chair so she could focus her gaze on him. “Sure. What is it?” Her tone was light, but her curiosity was clear in her voice, as well as the frown in her eyebrows.

“That night, in Oregon, when we were working on that case… Do you remember what we talked about?”

Charlie nodded, though she seemed a little confused by the topic. It seemed unexpected and completely out of the blue for her, Sam understood that. “Yeah, what about it?” There was an edge to her voice too, an apprehension that had Sam even surer about the conclusion he had reached last night.

At the time, Charlie’s questions had seemed a little unsettling, mostly because he had no idea why she had been asking them—about him being okay with her sexuality, and then about him or Dean ever getting involved with anyone. But after his conversation with Dean last night, he’d come to realize, as he laid awake in bed staring up at the ceiling and trying to wrap his mind around everything, that maybe she’d had a reason to bring those subjects up.

Also, he really needed to talk to her about this, and he didn’t know if they were on the same page on the matter, so he wanted to find out before he blurted out something he shouldn’t to her, before he told her a secret that wasn’t his to tell in the first place.

Honestly, he was still processing it, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t spent at least an hour last night just wondering how he had not seen it before; how he hadn’t guessed there had been something going on with Dean and Cas over the years, because suddenly it was all _right there_ , right in front of his eyes.

He had been surprised when Dean had told him; of course he had. But then again, Dean had always posed a pictured for Sam—and their father, as Sam knew now—of the straight alpha male. And Sam had never questioned it; not really. Sometimes they’d tease each other about the other acting gay about something, but those comments had always been nothing but jokes; bickering between two siblings. Sam had never thought to be any actual truth in any of it.

Also, there had always been the occasional case where someone thought he and Dean were a couple, which happened a lot more often than one would imagine, and sometimes he’d wondered if either of them had ever given out any sort of vibe that they might not be straight for the people to reach that conclusion, but then again, he’d never thought too much of it.

But maybe he should have. He’d just never even considered the possibility that Dean might not be straight, it really had never even crossed his mind at all, so he’d never really paid attention, never even wondered if his brother might not be straight, and the fact that Dean had apparently gone through lengths for years to make sure Sam and no one else would think differently definitely hadn’t helped.

But the signs had been there, as few as they may have been—Dean’s obsession with Dr. Sexy probably being the most obvious one. Although maybe he just hadn’t been paying enough attention to see the others. He would just turn to look the other way whenever Dean asked Sam to book them separate rooms for the night, had never had any doubt that Dean’s partner for the night would be a woman, but now he caught himself wondering how many times it had actually been a man.

And he had been completely honest with Dean. It didn’t bother him, and he certainly didn’t see Dean differently just because his brother was bisexual. There was nothing wrong with that, and while there might still be people out there who would not agree with that, Sam was not one of those people.

The reason for most of his surprise last night, though, had actually been Cas.

At first Sam had thought angels just didn’t have, well… sexual desires, he supposed. Not one angel they’d met in the first few years had ever gone against that assumption, so Sam had just assumed angels were asexual, or at least something like that. He had never found anything in any books about angels mating or anything at all on the topic by then, so he’d just believed that to be fact.

And then they’d found out the Trickster had been an archangel that had had a thing with Kali and made porn, and then Balthazar came along with his comments about his sexual escapades, and he found out there were exceptions to that rule, but still, most angels seemed to either not care about it, or have no desire for any sort of sexual activities whatsoever.

And sure, Dean had slept with Anna, but she had been pretty much human when it happened. And the same applied to Cas when he’d had sex with April—Cas had been human. And although April had not been human, she had been a Reaper, and Sam had not been sure what that meant, exactly, but maybe she might be one of the exceptions as well, and anyway, he'd never really thought much about it.

The only time he’d come across anything on the topic had been in a very, very old book in the Men of Letters library that mentioned not only procreation between angels, but also between angels and humans, producing a forbidden hybrid as an offspring called a nephilim. But the book had been very vague in general and Sam wasn’t even sure if there was much truth in what he’d read.

And either way, he’d never had any reason to look into the topic before. He was sure there might be more books about it in the Bunker if he really wanted to find them and properly looked for them, but he had never had a reason to read about that particular subject before.

And it wasn’t like wanted to look into it now, anyway, because he really didn’t.

But over the years, he’d just kind of convinced himself that Cas wasn’t the type of angel to ever want to get involved with anyone like that. So finding out that he and Dean were involved had been quite a surprise.

Now he realized maybe he should have seen it coming, too, after thinking it through, replaying some of the events of the past few years in his head; realized it had been right in front of his face for a while now. And the signs had not only come from Dean, either, Cas had given out plenty of them, even if neither of them knew about it, which he assumed they didn’t, or at least hadn't until now.

The truth was, Dean and Cas had always been closer. Cas had called their connection a ‘more profound bond’ once a few years back, but then again, Sam hadn’t thought too much into it. But it was the truth anyway—Dean and Cas had always shared some sort of bond he and Cas didn’t, even if they'd known the angel for pretty much the same amount of time, even if the angel had raised both of them from Hell at some point.

Cas had rebelled for _Dean_ against Heaven; he had made that very clear at the time. He would always come when Dean called, or when Dean was concerned. They had been to Purgatory together, too, and things had been different after that, Sam had always been able to tell, although Dean would never talk about it.

When everything had pointed at Cas’ betrayal, Dean had been the one to not be convinced about it until the very end, only until they’d actually heard about Cas and Crowley’s deal from Cas’ own mouth, and the blow had clearly been stronger for Dean than it had been to Sam. When Cas died after the whole Purgatory fiasco, Dean had had nightmares for weeks. Dean actually didn’t know Sam knew about that, but he did. Sam had woken up several times in the middle of the night to Dean muttering to himself, and Cas’ name was very often one of the things Sam heard from his brother.

The signs had _always_ been there, but he’d never looked close enough to see them, to know what they meant.

But had it only been him? Had he been the only one who hadn’t been able to see it? Had this thing between Dean and Cas been what Crowley seemed so amused by that he didn’t know? Did Charlie know anything?

“You were asking about, well, what I would think about Dean… having someone now, someone in the life, and I just…” How was he supposed to ask this? How could he say it without giving too much away? “Well, Dean and Cas got in late last night, and I… I don’t know if you…”

“Oh…” Charlie’s eyes were wide, but there was an emotion in her eyes that told Sam she knew exactly what he was implying, and for that he was glad, that she had caught on so quickly and easily. “You know, don’t you? I mean, you…”

Sam nodded, smiling a little, relief flooding his insides. Charlie knew. Okay, that made this easier. “Yeah, Dean… He told me last night.”

Charlie looked relieved herself, letting out a sigh as her shoulders sagged. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I mean, I was scared he and Cas would try to sneak around or something, and I’m just terrible at covering up anything, so that wouldn’t work out at all, trust me.”

Sam had to admit, that did sound a lot like Dean, but Sam was very happy his brother had chosen to open up to him instead of keeping this a secret. Sure, it had taken Dean a while to come clean— _years,_ actually—but Sam understood where that came from too. He was angry at his father about that, because it had been solely his fault that Dean had felt the need to hide this in the first place, but what could he do about it now? John had been dead for years, so it wasn’t like he could yell at him now or something.

“I’m happy too. I mean, I just…” Sam shrugged lightly, still smiling, “I’m happy he opened up to me. I know my brother, that wasn’t easy for him.” He had seen just how much Dean had struggled to get anything out last night, and he knew that his brother would have found it easier to take down a nest of vamps with an arm tied to his back than talking about what they did last night. He was just glad Dean had actually followed through with it. “And honestly, I’m happy for him. Like, really happy. After Cassie and Lisa, he’s never had anyone like that, you know? He deserves it.” He had seen the way Dean had smiled last night, the spark in his eyes Sam hadn't seen in years, and it warmed his heart to see his brother happy like that.

Charlie smiled, nodding. “Yeah, he does.”

“How did you know about it, though?” Sam couldn’t help but ask. “I mean, I’ve known both of them for years, and I just never…”

Charlie actually chuckled at that. “Honestly, I don’t get how you didn’t see it.”

“Was it really that obvious?”

“Uh, yeah. Like, right in front of your eyes, Sam.” Charlie laughed again, and this time, Sam actually joined her. “But then again, I read the books, and I don’t know, there was always something… implied about those two. A lot of people online think there’s something going on there, you know.”

Suddenly Sam remembered the whole thing with the play about the Supernatural books, and he smiled at the memory of Dean telling him to shut his mouth and all but freaking out about the whole Destiel thing. And yet again, he realized just how oblivious he’d been about this whole situation. “Yeah, I’ve heard about it,” he chuckled once more, raising his mug of coffee to his lips and taking a careful sip.

“There are some that even think that Carver Edlund meant to add it as subtext, and who knows, maybe Chuck saw it coming too. I mean, he was a prophet, right?”

Sam wasn’t sure about that one, but honestly, at this point, he didn’t doubt it. But they couldn’t exactly ask Chuck about it, since the guy had somehow just vanished from the face of Earth. Even the angels didn’t know what happened to him, but if Kevin had been activated as a prophet in the first place, that could only lead them to one conclusion, considering there could be only one prophet alive at a time.

Pushing that line of thought away, he asked, “So you’ve always just… known about it? Does Dean know you know?”

“It’s not that I’ve always known about it. I mean, even if I read the books, I knew things weren’t exactly as they were written in the stories, you know. I got that from the hunts I went on. But…” She shrugged, closing her laptop and taking a sip from her own coffee. “There was just always something there when Dean talked about him, you know? I just… I don’t know if I was kind of biased or something, but after I met you guys, I just had this… feeling, you know?”

Sam nodded, although he himself had never had that feeling, had been too oblivious to see any signs, to even consider it at all.

“Still, I never met Cas, so I had no idea if Destiel was actually a thing or not, but my guess has always been yes. I just… never had a reason or the opportunity to ask, and I’m pretty sure Dean would have denied it any other time. But then Dean was all upset about Cas that night when Hannah was here, and I went to talk to him. I had to push him a little, he didn’t really want to talk at first, but he did open up eventually.”

“So you know about…?”

“Omaha?” Charlie nodded, “Yeah, he was really hurt about it, how Cas just walked out and cut him off. I told him not to give up on Cas, and then Dean just took off.”

“So you don’t know that’s how they bonded?”

Charlie didn’t seem surprised, so he assumed the answer was yes. She nodded, though slowly, “I wasn’t sure, actually, but that was my guess. And then Crowley showed up and was acting all weird, I just knew that had to be it.”

Sam nodded, and then felt okay enough to tell her what he knew. She knew about Dean and Cas, and that was enough to get him talking. He told her Dean and Cas bonded in Omaha, and that Cas had actually left to break the bond because he was afraid of Dean’s reaction and was worried about what would happen with the Mark because of it. He finished off by filling her in on the whole Gabriel story—the fake Trickster hunt, and how he claimed he wanted to help them with the Mark and Cas’ Grace.

“So Gabriel’s really alive?” At Sam’s nod, Charlie let out a low whistle, shaking her head lightly, “Wow, plot twist.”

Sam shook his head lightly. “Not really. I mean, the disappearing act is pretty much Gabriel’s thing, it’s apparently always been. We really should have seen this coming at some point.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, maybe. But…” She frowned a little, like she wasn’t sure how to phrase whatever was on her mind then, “Why do you think he wants to help? Why show up now? Hasn’t he been gone for like, years?”

Sam shrugged once more, letting out a heavy breath. “Five, actually. We don’t know why he’s back and suddenly wants to be helpful. Dean doesn’t trust him, Cas doesn’t trust him, and I don’t either. But we’ll just have to… wait and see, I guess. I mean, the guy’s an archangel. The last time, it took all souls from Purgatory, Cas dying and the Leviathan getting loose to take one of them down.”

Charlie nodded lightly, “True.”

Nothing happened for a while. Charlie went back to her laptop, and Sam dove into the books in the library, quickly getting himself busy. Now he had a new focus, something else to look into, because his conversation with Dean had actually shed some light on his research. He continued to look for anything on the Mark, true, but he also started to look more into soul bonds and Angel Grace. If Grace could numb the Mark, maybe there was something there for them to work with, maybe even a cure.

Also, even if Dean didn’t seem willing, had even snapped at Sam because of it, Sam couldn’t help but unconsciously keep an eye out for anything on breaking a soul bond, just in case it became necessary at some point.

It was well into the afternoon when someone emerged from the hallway that led to the bedrooms—Castiel.

The sight of the angel was a surprise to Sam. He wasn’t wearing his usual attire. In the place of his usual suit and trench coat, he was wearing a dark gray shirt and loose jeans. The only time Sam had seen him look like this had been at the time the angel had been human, so it was no shock just how weird it was to see him like this, and he wondered what had brought the change of wardrobe on. He wondered if Dean had had something to do with it, and he realized that his brother probably had.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam greeted the angel, smiling in spite of his confusion.

Cas nodded at Sam, “Hello, Sam.” And then Cas turned his attention to the other occupant in the room, his brows furrowing slightly. Still, there was a small, tiny smile playing on his lips, though, and something told Sam that Cas knew exactly who the redhead sitting across from him was.

Sam looked over at Charlie, understanding the angel’s confusion immediately. Charlie was staring at him with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open, which Cas probably had no idea how to interpret. Sam actually chuckled at the sight, before gesturing back and forth between the pair as he introduced them, “Cas, this is Charlie. Charlie, Cas.”

And suddenly Charlie was out of her chair and running up to Cas, wrapping him into a hug that had him grunting a little in surprise and widening his eyes, looking all the more confused. It was a pretty funny scene, honestly.

“Finally!” She pulled away from Cas, and even from where Sam was sitting he could see her smile. “I was starting to think I would never get to meet you! But I didn’t think you’d be so tall!”

And then Cas was frowning again, tilting his head a little to the side, looking confused and unsure if he should be offended or not, which was completely hilarious and had Sam chuckling again.

Soon enough they were sitting at the table, Sam and Charlie’s coffee mugs filled once again and a third one placed before Cas. Conversation between Cas and Charlie came easy enough, as Sam realized, so much it was actually a little surprising, though he knew some of it was due to Cas’ newly acquired knowledge of fiction reference. Still, they got along pretty well, even if they were pretty much complete opposites, and at some point Sam just got himself busy with his books while the two chattered in the background.

No word was spoken about Dean and Cas, though. Sam almost wanted to bring it up, because while he’d heard it from Dean, he still wasn’t sure about how whatever this was between them worked, could not really picture the two as a couple. And it wasn’t like he wanted detail—and that was huge, enormous _no_ , thank you very much—but he didn’t know anything about them like that. It wasn’t like he wanted to play the protective brother on Cas or something, either, he just… wanted to ask about it, but feared it would make things awkward, so he decided to just let it go.

Dean showed up about an hour later. He smiled at the sight of the three of them in the library, and Sam didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on Cas for a while longer, or how Cas stared at him right back, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Dean rested a hand on his shoulder for just a second before Dean had an armful of Charlie jumping on him before punching his shoulder for taking off like he had. Dean had laughed, pulling her into another hug, and when their little reunion was over he walked past the table to head for the kitchen, where he probably went to fetch himself a mug of coffee.

Dean took a seat beside Cas once he was back, but there was nothing on the way either of them acted that gave away the fact there was anything going on between them, no change in their stances or behaviors whatsoever. Actually, as the minutes passed and they all got to talking, it was pretty much like nothing had changed. This was just so normal, it was almost startling.

Maybe Sam was making a little too big of a deal out of this whole thing. As he watched Dean and Cas and noticed how pretty much nothing had changed in their usual dynamics, he realized that this could really work, and he really wanted it to, because both of them deserved it, after everything they’d all gone through over the past few years. Sam had meant it when he'd told Charlie he'd be happy for Dean if his brother ever found someone, just as he'd meant it last night when he'd told Dean he was happy for him, because really, he was.

Because Cas was an angel, technically he was in the life, and unlike any other relationship either of them had ever had over the years, this one could really work out; it had a potential none of the others had ever had.

And somehow, at the same time, this was a little terrifying, because he didn't know if there were feelings involved, or on whose part, or how deep they were. He also knew how terrified Dean was of commitment, how hard it must have been for his brother to adapt to this. Dean didn't have much experience when it came to relationships, he'd only had one that could count in his whole life, and it had ended terribly. And to make their situation even more complicated and fragile, Cas had no experience at all in the subject.

And the last thing Sam wanted was to have to watch either of them have their heart broken. He knew they cared for each other deeply, of course they did, but how that settled into their new relationship, how it fit into their new dynamics, he had no idea. All he knew was that this could either be extremely good or it could end terribly.

Sam just wished it worked out, with everything he had, because honestly, he was terrified of what would happen to their little family if it didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope that wasn't too terrible. I've been obsessing over Sam and Dean's conversation for weeks, and again, I'm still a little nervous about it.
> 
> I know there's a lot of expectation on Sam's reaction about the baby, and I'm sorry it didn't happen in this chapter, but it just didn't feel right just yet. I don't think Dean would tell him now. And, well, I have a few plans for that scene... ;) Don't worry, though, I'm not going to wait until the end of Dean's pregnancy to tell Sam about it. It's going to happen soon... kind of. ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, but I had a few problems with this chapter. I simply didn't like the beginning of it, and it wasn't until three weeks ago that I finally realized why I wasn't happy with it. But fixing it meant adding four new scenes, which took me a while. That being said, the word count went up a lot, and for only a few seconds I considered splitting it, but then I decided against it. It took me two months to update, but this chapter is over 30k words long, so it's pretty much 2 chapters in 1. Hope you guys don't mind. ;D
> 
> Also, I have no words to tell you guys just how thankful I am for all the kudos and comments! Thank you all so much for the support!<3 :)
> 
> I want to apologize in advance if there is anything wrong in the technical terms and everything else concerning Dean's pregnancy mentioned in this chapter. Once more, all information presented in this story comes solely from research, and I'm sorry if anything is incorrect or inaccurate.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains mentions of pregnant!Cas and fetal malformation. It also contains spoilers from the episodes 10x11, "There's No Place Like Home", 10x13, "Halt & Catch Fire", and 10x18, "Book of the Damned".

The days after Dean and Cas’ arrival to the Bunker went on a lot more smoothly than Dean would have thought they would. He had expected things to become awkward, weird, for at least _something_ to change, for his new relationship with Cas to cause some sort of shift in their little group’s dynamics, for life in the Bunker with Sam and Charlie to be drastically different somehow.

Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.

***~*~*~*~***

“Hey, that’s my popcorn!” Charlie laughed as she said it, but there was a hint of annoyance in her voice and a little too much strength in the blow as she hit Sam with a pillow for the third time in the last hour.

When she had asked everyone if they wanted popcorn earlier, Dean had been the only one to ask for some, and she’d only made two bowls—one for Dean and another for herself. Dean had been sharing his with Cas since the moment the angel had gotten a taste for the thing and actually seemed to like it quite a lot, but Charlie seemed pretty territorial over her own bowl as Sam dug his enormous paw to grab a handful from her once more, especially since over half of the original contents of her bowl were already gone. Dean was pretty sure his brother hadn’t yet tried to reach for his and Cas’ bowl (which was undoubtedly fuller than the redhead's) because it was too far away, since he’d have to reach across the entire freaking bed for it (which would be quite a hard task, even with his ridiculous long sasquatch arms). Charlie’s bowl was way more convenient, even with the hits he had to endure for just a handful of popcorn every few minutes.

Sam just laughed at Charlie's response, looking pretty proud of himself as he shrugged at her apologetically, tossing the few popped corns he’d managed to snag into his mouth with a satisfied smirk.

Dean shook his head at them, grabbing a handful of his own popcorn and shoving it into his mouth. There was an amused smile on his lips, though, and he could see one on Charlie’s as well. She was clearly trying to fight it, but it was there nonetheless.

Dean and Cas had gotten to the Bunker only less than a week prior, and already the days had begun to pass with a certain domesticity to them. To be honest, the ease with which everyone had fallen into a steady rhythm was almost startling. There was some sort of a routine quickly building up, and Dean wasn’t sure how to feel about it, though he had to admit he kind of liked it; liked the feeling it brought to him. It was similar to what he and Cas had had back in the cabin in Absarokee, although at the same time this was very much different than what that had been like, but not in a bad way. Maybe it was the place, the familiarity of the Bunker against the cabin they had slept in for only a few nights, or maybe it was the fact that Sam and Charlie were part of it now. Whatever it was, Dean liked that feeling a lot. He was getting used to all of it incredibly well, and not freaking out like he would have expected of himself.

No, he was actually letting himself _enjoy_ this; letting himself just feel happy about something for once.

Almost every day, he and Cas would wake up later than Sam and Charlie, but no one questioned it for days. Cas needed rest because of his Grace and Dean was starting to gradually sleep more and more because of the nephilim, which Cas continued to assure him about, repeating how it was completely normal and that it didn’t mean there was anything wrong, and surprisingly it took Sam and Charlie a couple of days to finally make a comment on their continuously late start of the day. When they'd finally asked, Dean just told them he was feeling tired because of the Mark, which wouldn’t be completely untrue, and they’d bought it easily enough. The Mark was playing a part in all of this, after all, and they had no reason to even consider that he might be lying, or at least that he wasn’t being completely truthful.

Somehow, their blind trust only made Dean feel worse about not telling them the truth.

The rest of the day would then be spent with them buried in research, because that was all they could do right now, the only way they might find a solution to any of their current problems. It was tiring and a little boring, but it was necessary.

Tonight, exceptionally, they had escaped that routine. It was one of those very rare nights when they decided to stop with the research for a few hours, tired and feeling like they had read enough for the day. Although the other few times that had happened, the day had simply ended with them going to bed earlier. Today, however, Charlie had suggested taking a very much needed break to watch a movie or something before their eyes fell right out of their sockets from exhaustion.

Dean had been hesitant about it at first. This time could be spent resting so they could have an earlier start on their research tomorrow, and initially it had bothered him to just stop everything and sit down, made him feel uneasy in his skin to be here, his mind feeling like it was still back there in the library, worried, looking for answers that he seemed unable to find. He knew he was sounding a lot like Sam, but for some reason it didn't bother him. The situation called for it, anyway.

Soon enough, though, he had settled into it, his body relaxing slowly as his tension melted away, and honestly, he was starting to like this—the idea of just spending time with his family, the feeling of just beeing surrounded by the people he loved, making him feel warmer inside, more relaxed, lighter somehow,  _better_.

It also made him realize he was getting used to this domesticity way too fast, so much he knew he should be worried, because things weren’t okay, they weren’t all _fine._ They couldn't just pretend that there was nothing wrong. They were buried in problems and had way too much to worry about.

But sometimes Dean just wanted to forget it all and enjoy some time with his family, was that too bad?

The original choice of movie had been the first _The Hobbit_ , but they had finished _An Unexpected Journey_ some time ago and hopped right into the next one. Now, they were only about thirty minutes into _The Desolation of Smaug_ , and honestly, Dean was enjoying it quite a lot. He had no idea how it had taken him so long to watch it, and it actually made him excited for the third one (which unfortunately would have wait for another day, considering just how late it was getting), as well as feel like watching the original _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy yet again (not that Sam would ever know he liked it so much, nor that he had actually watched the entire thing three times already).

Sam was opening his third beer by then, Charlie calmly nursing her second bottle. They had brought some bottles to Sam’s room, and the pair had been slowly working their way through them.

Charlie had offered both Dean and Cas one at some point during the first movie, and Dean had been the first one to decline, shaking his head quickly before he realized that maybe he shouldn’t respond so fast or eagerly, but he could only hope neither one of them would read too much from his reaction.

“No, uh…” He cleared his throat, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Charlie seemed confused, unsure, a second bottle of beer still grasped in her hand in a silent offering, like she still wasn’t sure what to do with it, or why Dean had refused, because it was very unlike him, Dean knew that. Sam also seemed to consider his words, but seemed to let it go soon enough.

Offering no explanation at all, Cas also declined.

The question popped up again, though, this time coming from Sam’s mouth instead of Charlie’s.

“You know,” There was a slight pause, and Dean turned to the side to look at his brother, tearing his eyes from the screen from the first time in over half an hour, “I don’t think one beer would do any harm, Dean.”

Dean hoped neither Sam nor Charlie noticed how he swallowed thickly at the comment, how his entire body tensed up a little as he tried to think fast on his feet, trying to come up with a response that would easily convince them both without raising any suspicions. Cas had no reaction to it at all except by how he tensed up, but it was so subtle Dean doubted the others noticed it. His expression was controlled, not even glancing at Dean, and the hunter was glad for it. He tried to focus on it, on Cas' apparent calmness, to mirror it for himself.

At Dean’s clear hesitance, Sam added, “I mean, I can see you need it, Dean. You’ve been tense since you two got back, even before that. Maybe you just need to take the edge off, you know? Just… don’t go overboard with it.”

“Sam, I…” He swallowed again, shaking his head lightly this time, trying to give out the impression that his confidence was wavering, that he was actually thinking it through, considering it, weighing it in his mind somehow, when in fact his thoughts were nowhere close to that train of thought, because he _couldn't even consider it_. “I’d rather not. Really, I just…” He let out a sigh, the tiredness in it actually truthful, “It’s really not a good idea, trust me.”

Sam considered him again, but relented easily enough, nodding lightly as he moved his eyes back to the screen, silence falling over the room once more. It was tense, and a little heavy, but all Dean felt was relief that Sam hadn’t insisted.

He felt Cas by his side, felt the way the angel’s body relaxed noticeably, and he was suddenly filled with the urge to wrap an arm around the seraph, pull him closer, feel him melt against the hunter like Dean was so quickly getting addicted to, like it was so startlingly fast becoming _natural_ for them. Dean wanted to make sure he was okay, ease the tension that still seemed to be impregnated in the angel’s muscles, shoulders weighed down so heavily by the enormous secret they were keeping from Sam and Charlie. His fingers twitched on the mattress, wanting to reach out, to touch, but he resisted it.

Cas shifted closer, but not enough to cover the few inches between them, and while they had been sitting very close to each other since very the beginning of the movie night (they were four people on one bed, so of course they had little space between them. Sam's bed might be a King Size, but three of them had the bodies of big fully grown men, so Sam and Cas were still very close to the edges of the bed), the distance still felt like yards instead. Dean scooted a little to the side, too, but they did not dare to move any more than that, as much as he wanted to.

They were about an hour into the movie when Dean felt a weight on his shoulder. He looked down, seeing nothing more than a mass of dark hair at first, then tilting his head to get a better look at Cas’ face. The angel’s eyes were open, but only barely, his eyelids dropping, the buzzing, dazed numbness that always took over the bond whenever Cas was asleep slowly but surely starting to make itself known.

Dean hoped Sam and Charlie were paying attention to the movie and not to them, but he was pretty sure they hadn’t noticed it. He didn’t look to the side, though, preferring not to find out and focusing his eyes on the angel instead.

Sam hadn’t asked or commented on what he and Dean had talked about that first night in the kitchen, hadn’t brought up the subject of Dean and Cas at all, and his brother wasn’t making a big deal out of it, for which Dean was extremely grateful. Nothing had changed between their usual living dynamics at all, actually, except for what Dean and Cas did in private and the fact that Cas now slept in Dean’s room, but that was truly all. It was really all Dean had ever asked for, but that he’d never allowed himself to believe he could have: that if Dean would ever, for some reason, tell Sam about his secret, for his brother not to make a big deal out of it, for his little brother to be okay with that part of him, for it not to _change_ anything, for it to not make a difference. Dean couldn’t be happier about it.

Charlie had been Charlie about it, obviously. She’d spent the first day pretty much fangirling about finally meeting Cas, and surprisingly, those two got along extremely well. She had also stopped by their room that first night when Cas had been taking a shower and Dean had been alone to congratulate him on finally working things out with Cas, to tell him she was also very happy for them and to ask him how he was doing. She wanted to make sure he was okay and that everything was really fine with him and Cas, and then she punched him in the shoulder again (ouch) for taking off like he had.

She seemed to be making it a habit or something. His shoulder kind of hurt after it.

And okay, maybe it was a little silly for him to have been a little even the tiniest bit worried about Charlie's reaction to him and Cas. Again, they kind of were in the same boat and all that, so of course she wouldn't judge them or something.

Still, even though Charlie and Sam were both okay with him and Cas, Dean still felt a little weird about acting couple-y with the angel around them, so he tried to avoid it. Sure, he wouldn’t push Cas away whenever he sat close to him or touched him in front of Sam and Charlie or something, definitely not, but he just never initiated anything when they weren’t alone. It just felt weird, for some reason, maybe because everything still seemed so fragile with Cas since it was just so new, and Dean almost felt like the fact that nothing had changed in the Bunker, that everything was actually working, that it was all fine, was because Dean and Cas kept to themselves, even though he knew that wasn’t quite true.

But he still decided not to risk it.

And that was why he didn’t want to call attention to them now, in the middle of movie night, so he decided to try a little bit of telepathy. He had been getting used to it, and he was pretty sure he was getting the hangs of it. He still didn’t know how to control the bond, though, and honestly, he was starting to think he never would manage to learn that.

_I thought you said you liked The Hobbit,_ he commented, recalling Cas’ earlier words after they’d finished the first movie.

Cas’ response took a few seconds, and when it did finally come, it was clear, even in Dean’s mind, that the angel was on the very verge of sleep, even his mental voice sounding muddled. _I indeed enjoyed the movie. However, I am unusually tired._

Dean’s heart felt heavier at those words, the topic of Cas’ fading Grace instantly returning to his mind, but he tried to push it away right now, because the point of this night was to clear their heads, to rest their tired minds, to send the worries away from their thoughts, if only for a little while.

So he swallowed, choosing to say, _We can watch it another day, if you want._

_I do._

Dean felt rather than saw the nod that followed Cas' response as the angel adjusted himself so he could lay his head on Dean’s shoulder, lying partially on his side and letting an arm rest over the hunter’s stomach. Dean shifted, adjusting himself better on the bed so it would be more comfortable for both of them, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist and lifting his other hand to rest it on the angel’s arm, tracing the bare skin just below Cas' shoulder where the short sleeve of the angel's t-shirt ended for only a short moment before settling for just leaving it there.

Cas nuzzled closed into Dean’s throat, and Dean smiled at it, lifting his right arm to run his hand through Cas’ hair. He felt the weight of Cas’ head growing gradually, like the angel was slowly slipping from consciousness. At some point the seraph nestled himself even more against Dean, turning to lay fully on his side so he could rest his head on Dean’s chest, and the hunter had to adjust himself a little, but eventually Cas managed to find a comfortable position beside Dean, lying half on top of him on the bed, curled up to his side and using him as a pillow, snoring softly into his chest.

Dean wouldn’t look at the others after Cas fell asleep. He wasn’t sure what he would find, and honestly, he was a little scared to find out, so he just focused his eyes on the movie, although his mind wasn’t exactly paying attention to it by then.

It took him a few moments, and a few shifts from the sleeping angel lying partially on top of him, for Dean to finally swallow down his nervousness and glance over at Sam and Charlie.

They weren’t looking at him then, their eyes focused forward at the screen, but the pair seemed to see him move, sense that he was looking at them somehow, since they both turned to look at him pretty much at the same time.

Charlie’s eyes were light, weightless, and she offered him a tiny smile before turning away, so quickly that Dean barely had the time to smile back. She had no reaction, just a tiny hint of acknowledgement that still made Dean feel lighter nonetheless, even though her acceptance wasn't the one he was worried about the most.

Sam’s eyes were different. They didn’t have the same lightness in them, but his gaze wasn’t at all judging. It was heavy, indeed, but with such a... brightness, a glint that had Dean doing a double take. His brother’s eyes briefly moved down to Cas, and then back up to meet Dean’s, something shining so strongly in them that Dean could not quite comprehend.

And then Sam smiled.

It was smaller than Charlie’s smile, shier, no teeth and nothing more than the corners of his mouth rising subtly, but it was still there. Warmth flooded his eyes, the smile lingering for only a moment before he too looked away.

Dean was a little lost, unsure of what to think about that, but the weight that had been settled into his stomach was suddenly gone. There was no judgment in his brother’s eyes, just silent acceptance, nothing but warmth, and that was all Dean had ever asked for, all he'd craved for _years_.

So Dean just looked back at the screen as the weight on his shoulders melted away, as the tension was drained from his muscles. He no longer felt the urgent need to hide that had seeped into his bones, the nervousness and fear that had earlier filled his insides giving place to this warm, fuzzy feeling instead. He let a small smile grace his own lips, and at last allowed himself to actually enjoy this, carding his fingers through Cas’ hair from time to time, his movements slow and light as he was mindful not to wake up the sleeping angel.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam lasted a week.

During the first few days since Dean and Cas had gotten back to the Bunker, Sam had swallowed the desire he had felt since that first morning, one that he had carried with him almost constantly for the days that had followed, but that he had pointedly chosen to ignore. He’d quickly realized that Dean and Cas both seemed very much intent on keeping to themselves, so much that it really was as if nothing had changed between them at all, and Sam could only assume they had some kind of agreement to not do anything in front of him and Charlie, for some reason Sam could not imagine. He wouldn’t mind it if they held hands or kissed or something, of course he wouldn’t. He still couldn't really see it happening, still found it a foreign thought, but he wouldn't mind it. But he somehow got the feeling that they might be afraid that he would.

The first and only time he had seen anything different at all from them had been at the movie night they'd had, when Cas had cuddled up to Dean’s side in the beginning of the second movie and fallen asleep there, and then Dean had started to pet his hair a little, but that had been the most he’d seen from them.

He wanted to tell Dean that he had really meant what he’d said to him that night, that he didn’t care, that it didn’t bother him at all, that of course he was okay with him and Cas. He didn't  _want_ to see anything (again, that was a  _huge_ no); it just bothered him to think that Dean might still be scared that Sam had something against who he was, against whatever it was that he and Cas had now, and that maybe Dean was creating tension where there shouldn't be any.

But that would mean bringing the subject up, and somehow Sam felt Dean wouldn’t want that. He knew his brother; he had been able to tell just how hard it had been for Dean to even tell him about him and Cas in the first place, and Sam knew that talking about it in any way wouldn’t be much easier than the conversation they'd had that night; that it wouldn't make anything better in any way.

So he’d done nothing more than wonder quietly, letting Dean and Cas have the normality they wanted, let them feel comfortable and welcome, accepted, because Sam was convinced that was what they needed, and he was determined to give it to them.

He had also started making a mental list of all the hints he’d overlooked over the years, all the times he hadn't been paying enough attention to realize that his brother might be hiding something from him, and that list seemed to be growing at a startling rate. Dean’s obsession with Dr. Sexy was of course still at the top of the list, but there had been quite a few additions, like how flustered Dean had been about his ‘gay thing’ with the Golem guy, Aaron Bass, later on when the case had been done and Sam had jokingly brought it up whole Dean drove them out of town. Dean's reaction had been a little too nervous, even stuttering a little and clearly making a point of not looking at Sam in the eye, and while Sam had been amused, he hadn't thought too much of it.

The same could be said about Dean's reaction to those girls' play; about the whole Destiel thing. His brother had had a reaction that had been a little too drastic, a little too nervous, and Sam had no idea how he hadn't seen it for what it had actually been—Dean actually freaking out that Sam might connect the dots somehow. Again, Sam had no idea how he had not seen it back then, how his only reaction was being amused, but not feeling the need to read into any of at all.

Also, it kind of bothered Sam that a bunch of girls who had never even met Dean and Cas before had so easily seen what he hadn't, but then again, Charlie  _had_ mentioned Chuck had pretty much hinted it a lot, added it as subtext into the Supernatural books somehow, so it wasn't really Sam's fault.

And of course, the most obvious of all signs—the fact that Dean's siren in that case a few years back had been a male.

Seriously, how had Sam not seen _that_ one? The whole 'he needs a little brother, someone to look up to him' thing had convinced Sam back then, but now he realized just how little sense that made. They had never worked a case like that again, of course they hadn't, because that just wasn't how sirens _worked_ , and Sam still had no idea how he hadn't even  _considered_ that there had been more to that case than what had met the eye.

The days passed, and eventually Sam realized he wouldn’t manage to talk to Dean about this, didn't even know if he wanted to, mostly because he somehow knew it wouldn't make a difference. So he decided to give it a shot with Cas. He hadn’t talked to the angel alone after Dean and Cas had gotten back to the Bunker, hadn’t had the chance to, honestly, because either Dean or Charlie, usually both, were just always in the same room as them, either doing research or eating a meal or watching something, and Dean and Cas usually went to bed together and before Sam and Charlie.

And Sam really didn't want to think about that one. He was okay with them, he truly was, but he didn't want to think about his brother and his best friend having sex. That was actually why he would wait at least an hour after Dean and Cas went to bed to go to his own room, even if he felt like going to bed himself by then, because he would have to walk by their room to go to his own and he feared that he might hear something he really didn't want to.

It took a while, but one morning the chance to actually have a private conversation with Cas finally showed itself, and Sam knew he couldn’t waste the opportunity.

Dean had been asleep and Charlie had gone out to buy food, leaving only Cas and Sam awake or present in the Bunker. Cas had walked into the library alone while Sam had been reading through a book, Dean nowhere in sight, which was a pretty rare occurence, since Dean and Cas seemed to get up at the same times almost every day. Cas greeted Sam as he always did, then made his way to the kitchen, coming back shortly and soon enough taking a seat across from the hunter with a book of his own, a mug of steaming coffee resting on the table before him and a refill for Sam being placed before the human.

It still took Sam a while. He couldn’t concentrate on reading anymore, not with Cas alone and right there, so he just stared down at the pages, his eyes unfocused, vision unclear, a smear of words that made no sense painted on the pages before him that he had no presence of mind to comprehend.

Cas didn’t seem to notice, his eyes always fixated on the book before him, not once rising to meet Sam’s, or maybe the angel had noticed Sam’s uneasiness and had decided to ignore it, to not bring any attention to it until Sam did.

Finally, Sam cleared his throat.

Cas looked up, eyes attentive and curious, not a hint of surprise in his face, which told Sam the angel had indeed noticed his fidgeting. A question hung in his eyes, unsaid but obvious, as if it had been asked out loud.

“You…” Sam swallowed, then licked his dry lips, for some reason suddenly feeling his mouth dry. It was harder to get the words out than he had thought it would be, harder to even find the right thing to say, the right way to phrase what he was thinking. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while, about…” He swallowed again, “About you and Dean.”

Cas didn’t seem surprised, but there was a peak of interest in his eyes.

“I’m sure Dean told you that we talked the night you guys got back. But I just…” He shook his head, closing his book slowly and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I didn’t talk to you after that, and I wanted to…” He ran his hand through his hair and let out a breath. He was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be, and that was the opposite of what he should be doing right now.

The point of this was making it simple, because it _was_ simple.

“I told Dean I’m okay with you two. And I meant it, Cas, I did, I still do.” He swallowed again, watching as the angel tilted his head to the side, eyes more attentive than ever. Sam wasn’t sure if the emotion in his eyes was confusion or mere curiosity, the frown in his brows subtle. “I’m happy for you guys, I really am, but I was… surprised, I guess. I mean, didn’t know about Dean, and you never…” The words were there, but didn’t want to come out right, didn’t want to arrange themselves into something that made sense, something coherent.

Fortunately, there was no need to.

Cas sat back a little in his chair, his back straighter, eyes no longer fixated on Sam as they fell to the table before him. His hesitance was not coming from confusion, that much was clear—he knew exactly what Sam wanted to say, it seemed.

“You are worried, Sam, and you have every right to be.” The seraph looked up then, and suddenly his eyes looked much older, much more like the way they used to years before, when Cas had been a full angel, powerful and old, which he still was, but sometimes it was easy to forget about that, to forget that Cas had been alive for _billions_ of years. “You do not wish to see your brother hurt, and this is new for you.”

Sam swallowed, nodding numbly, “Yeah, I don’t. But… that’s not all, Cas. It’s not just Dean I’m worried about. I care about both of you, you know that, right?” Cas' answer a subtle, the right corner of his mouth lifting just barely, a light nod of his head that Sam almost missed. The human licked his lips and swallowed once more, his thoughts finally seeming to arrange themselves somewhat coherently. He now realized what this looked like, what Cas might understand this as—the big brother speech; the 'hurt him and I'll kill you' conversation, and he didn't want that at all, because this wasn't what this _was._ That didn't even fit here at all; it wouldn't even make sense. He wasn't here to threaten Cas in any way, or to make him promise that he would take care of Dean. No, this was more of a 'Please don't hurt each other' kind of speech. He cared for them both, and he wanted the two of them happy. He wanted Cas to know that. “I just… I don’t want either of you getting hurt in case... you two don't work out.” Because it was a possibility, just as it was in any relationship, as scary as that was; as much as he wished that it would work out.

Cas considered Sam silently. The hunter had no idea what was going through the angel’s head in that moment, and as the silence stretched on between them, he started to wonder if the seraph would even give him a response at all. Cas' gaze wasn’t heavy, but Sam could almost see the cogwheels turning behind them, see the seraph's mind working carefully through the answer he would give the human.

Finally, the angel spoke again. “I, too, care about you both, Sam. I have for years, you know that.” Sam nodded slowly, the movement minute as he waited for the angel to continue. “But it has always been different. With Dean it has always felt… like more.”

Once more, Sam nodded, because he had reached that conclusion already. In fact, he’d always known Dean and Cas were closer; he hadn’t been blind enough not to see _that_ , at least.

No, he'd just been too blind to realize what it actually _meant._  

“I’m not sure when exactly it became more, but for years I didn’t understand what… what it really was, what any of it meant. It was actually very recently that I understood the... pull I've always felt towards Dean, and I admit… I did not react well to it.”

That had Sam frowning in confusion, because he had no recollection of any of this happening; couldn't tell at what point Cas had had a bad reaction like he was saying he had. But then again, he really shouldn't be surprised. Being oblivious seemed to really have become his thing. “When was this?”

“When I took off with the Angel Tablet. I know I claimed I was afraid of what might happen were the Tablet to fall onto the wrong hands, and I was indeed, although… I admit that part of the reason why I had to take off, why I found it better to simply vanish with it, was so I could get away from Dean. I was… worried, fearful about what would happen if I remained with you both. I was lost on what to do, on how to react. I feared my decisions would be wrong, influenced somehow, and I thought distancing myself from Dean to be the better route.” He looked down again, his shoulders slumping in what Sam understood as shame and regret. “It’s fair to say, I handled the situation rather poorly.”

Yeah, that was one way to put it.

And once more, Sam found himself surprised, because he’d had no idea this had been going through Cas’ head at the time. Back then, Sam had believed Cas had simply thought to be doing the right thing. He had believed Cas' explanation without questioning it, but now it all made so much more sense. Yet again he did not understand how he had not been able to see there had been much more to the situation than he'd believed at the time.

It made him wonder just how many situations over the past few years had been driven by this, by something he hadn’t been aware of until now.

“What changed, though?” Because he had to ask. He had to know that Cas wouldn’t just take flight again if things got complicated, even if just metaphorically, since he had done it twice now—with the Angel Tablet and then again in Omaha. Sam had to be sure that he wouldn't once more handle anything poorly, because this was the one thing Sam could not allow.

“I’ve had time to think,” the angel replied calmly. “I was terrified of what this might mean. For you this might sound silly, but for someone who has lived billions of years of nothing but obedience, being told that anything astray from what we are told was forbidden, for thousands of years being reminded that emotion was something to be avoided and punished, it’s… it was overwhelming for me. But Earth, humanity as a whole, especially you two, have taught me so much, and this was just another subject about which I had to have my eyes opened.”

He looked down again, and Sam saw him swallow. “I can’t tell you everything will be fine, Sam, because no one can ever guarantee that, but… I care for Dean more than I could ever put into words, more than I could simply tell you right now, and the last thing I want to do is to hurt him again like I know I have before. And while I know that does little to soothe your mind, that you will still worry for your brother nonetheless, because he is undoubtedly the most important person in your life, I hope that this, my word that I will not walk away from Dean again, is enough for now.”

Sam let out a breath, feeling lighter, his breathing coming easier to him. This hadn’t been what Sam had been expecting to hear, although he wasn't sure what that had been to begin with. The odd part was that this didn't even seem completely new to him; he felt like he had known that even before this conversation, and yet it was already enough to soothe his mind.

Because Cas cared about Dean, and he was just now finding out just how much. And yet, there was just so much more to Cas than Sam had ever imagined, so many more layers to the clueless angel who still had trouble to interact with people, who had become a part of their lives six years ago and then so much more than that over time. Sam was sure he still didn't know everything, that there were so many more sides to him Sam could have never even imagined.

But he didn't need to try to imagine them, to see them. All he need to know was that Cas was trying, that he was here for them and wouldn't just take off this time. He could see it in the angel's eyes, that he was being truthful about everything, that he really wouldn't run this time. But most importantly, Sam could see that Cas would do everything he could not to hurt Dean.

Slowly, Sam nodded.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean didn’t mind cooking for everyone in the Bunker.

On normal days, most of the time Sam and Charlie would be in the library talking or doing research when Cas and Dean would finally emerge from Dean’s room, where the pair would join them. Dean and Charlie would take turns cooking something for them throughout the day, since neither Sam nor Cas could for the life of them make something without the risk of setting the whole Bunker on fire. Dean never complained about it, though, because he liked to cook, actually found it calming, and sometimes he would even offer to step in on Charlie’s turn just because he could.

Way too often he had to shoo Sam and Charlie away from the kitchen when they tried to eat something he wasn’t finished with yet, but he would always let Cas get a few tastes because he just couldn’t resist those baby blues, and Cas really knew how to look like a kicked puppy when he wanted food. Sam had once claimed that to be unfair and pretty much thrown a tantrum about it until Dean said he would never again bake the moose the another damn cake if he didn’t stop being a big baby. Funny how that had shut him right up.

Cas and Charlie were officially on grocery duty, although Sam would sometimes tag along to buy his healthy leaves and stuff, or whatever he called it. Again, Dean preferred the term rabbit food.

Cas would often show up in the Bunker with some sort of vitamins he’d buy when he went shopping on his own that were supposed to be good for the baby, and while Dean would still feel weird about taking them (for some reason reading the word ‘prenatal’ on the box freaked him out a little), he didn’t miss them one single day, taking one with his breakfast and the other with dinner, since he was supposed to take two per day, preferably with a meal, according to Cas.

He just had to be careful, though. He had no idea how he would be able to explain that one to Sam or Charlie, if either of them were to find his little box of pills in his room or catch him taking them.

Today was one of those days when he just really felt like cooking, so he had been in charge of the food for the entire day, making a lasagna bolognese that almost had Sam break into tears, which Dean had been really proud of. He had barely left the kitchen at all that day, but again, he didn't mind it.

What he minded was people trying to eat his food before it was ready.

“Hey!” He slapped Sam’s hand away before his brother could put his paw on the pie filling once more. “No sampling in my kitchen.”

It was the third time already.

Sam pouted a little, but did retreat back to the table, and Dean huffed as he continued to prepare the pie filling. He had felt like baking one for whatever reason, and once the thought had settled into his mind, he just couldn't shake it off; it just didn't seem willing to leave him alone until he finally had a taste of homemade apple pie, which was something he hadn't had for years. Luckily they had everything he needed for it in their kitchen. He liked to keep the kitchen stocked, just in case he ever felt like just cooking something up without needing to make a run into town.

A few minutes later came another attempt from Sam, and then Dean was shooing him out of the kitchen.

“Okay, that’s it,” Dean stopped making the small strips of pie dough that would go on top of the pie, raising his eyebrows at his brother, “You either leave, or I’m not making your damn carrot cake tomorrow.”

Sam paused then, looking mildly offended, claiming that it was unfair that Dean had let Cas have a taste but he couldn’t, to which Dean argued that a taste was different than five freaking spoons of pie filling.

All it took was another mention of the cake, and then Sam was leaving the kitchen with something very close to a pout on his lips.

Cas remained silent as Dean worked, just sitting at the table behind Dean, watching the human work without a word. He had been that way for minutes now, and while Dean wasn’t sure whether there was something bothering the angel or not, he figured he would find out eventually.

It started to bother him at some point, though. The silence had grown heavy somehow, which was very unusual for them, and Dean could actually feel Cas wanted to say something, maybe through the bond, or perhaps he had just grown that good at reading the angel.

“What?” he asked, turning his head to glance at the angel over his shoulder as he rested another piece of pie dough over the raw pie.

Cas blinked, looking almost startled. Apparently his mind had been far away, as his thoughts seemed to have drifted from that kitchen at some point.

Slowly, he shook his head, and Dean was sure he was just going to say it was ‘nothing of import’ or something.

Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “You really enjoy pie.”

Dean paused at that, frowning at the out of nowhere comment. He gave Cas a confused look, unsure what kind of response the angel was expecting to get from him, or even if he was waiting for one at all.

Apparently, he was, with the way his gaze rose to Dean’s face, a question in his eyes.

Huh. Okay, then.

“Yeah,” he replied, making his hands go back to work, making the small little stripes that covered his pie a little slower than before. He had never made one of this, but he knew it needed to be perfect. It was easy enough, anyway; all he had needed had been a few glances at the recipe he'd found online to get the gist of it. “I do. Always have, really.” As long as he could remember, anyway.

It always brought him back to the past, whenever he had a good pie. The smell of freshly baked pie was almost heavenly to him, and while he could eat any sort of pie, homemade or not, the smell of recently baked, warm homemade pie was one of the best things he could think of. It sent his mind back countless years, back to the bright, small kitchen in their old house, his mother walking around while Dean waited for the pie she had spent the last hour or so working on to bake properly, just the way she knew he loved so much.

Mary would walk around, doing whatever needed to be done in the kitchen, but her attention had would always be on Dean, her hands never failing to find their way through his short hair as she walked by in a light caress, a gesture of reassurance, her bright smile never falling from her mouth.

Except for when his Dad called, but those were thoughts Dean would rather avoid.

The look on Cas’ face didn’t fade, and somehow Dean knew the angel was aware of just where his mind had gone to just then. Cas was still waiting, his eyes almost curious, attentive, but patient nonetheless.

Dean sighed.

“It’s… because of my mother, I think," He let the words out without thinking, realizing then just how long it had been since the last time he’d talked about Mary. He still thought about her sometimes, of course he did, but how long had it been since he’d last said something out loud? “She would always make me pie. All kinds, too. Pecan, blueberry, cherry, apple…” He shrugged, and the smile that settled on his lips was anything but happy. Nostalgic, perhaps, mingling in with sadness, a heaviness in his chest that still followed every memory he had of her, the shadow of the loss still dark and strong, even after all those years.

“It reminds you of her,” Cas said softly, a weak, tentative whisper, like he feared Dean might break under the sound of his voice alone.

Dean nodded. “It’s not just that, though. I learned to love pie because of her, but not all pies remind me of her. Just… homemade, I guess. The smell of it baking, it just…” A sigh escaped his lips, heavy and strained. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until then. “It brings back memories. It's good, but... sad at the same time.” He turned back to his pie, finishing the strip he was still holding in his hand and placing it on his pie. "I've never made one myself before, but sometimes a diner gets it right, and then I'm just back in time. I don't know why I felt like giving it a try today, though. I just... I just did."

Cas didn’t say anything, but then again, there wasn’t anything for him to say. So for a moment they went back to how it had been before—Dean making his pie ready for the oven, Cas watching carefully but in silence, although the air suddenly seemed much lighter, and Dean was glad for it.

Everything remained the same as before, until Cas moved.

Dean only realized the angel had gotten up at all when he felt the hands on his waist. The hunter jumped a little, startled, but settled into it once Cas slid his arms over his hipbones so he could wrap them around the human waist, the angel's heat quickly seeping into his back. Cas said nothing as he placed a gentle kiss to the side of Dean's throat, nor when he rested his chin against Dean's shoulder, but he didn't need to. Dean was just glad for the contact, and he hoped Cas felt how thankful he was for it through the bond.

Cas didn't move from there until Dean had to walk to put the pie in the oven to bake.

And when the pie was done, Dean couldn't help but smile around his first bite. It wasn’t as good as his mother used to make, but it was close enough, and somehow, that was enough, especially for his first try. Cas seemed very happy with his own slice, and had actually eaten two more as soon as he was done with the first one. Sam and Charlie also seemed to like it at lot, pretty much begging for him to make it again someday as most of the pie was gone in less than twenty minutes.

Dean just smiled at the requests, making no promises, but he already knew this wouldn't be just a one time thing.

***~*~*~*~***

The nausea woke him up.

Dean groaned, grimacing with his eyes closed still as he felt the familiar feeling of nausea building up in his stomach. He swallowed a few times, waiting for that strong wave to come, that urge to empty his stomach to rise to his throat and send him flying from the bed.

Only this time, that urge didn’t come.

That happened sometimes—he would feel nauseous, but he wouldn’t actually need to make a break for the bathroom. It was rare, but it happened, usually at night, just so the nausea would keep him up until it went away.

His morning sickness continued completely at random, but it made sure to happen almost every day. Dean was just happy that Sam and Charlie didn’t seem to have noticed it, or at least if they had, they never asked why Dean seemed to be throwing up so much, never made a single comment about it. Cas would join him in the bathroom every time it happened, no matter if Dean felt like puking his guts out in the middle of the freaking night and it had Dean jumping up in bed and darting out of the room at three in the freaking morning, even if Dean insisted there was no need for the angel to see that at all. Cas was adamant about it and would always be there, beside him, either whispering soothing words into his ear or just resting his hand on the hunter's back and running it slowly over the human's skin to calm him down. Dean had to admit he was actually thankful for it.

Those nights were also the reason why Dean had grown the habit of putting on at least a pair of boxers before falling asleep, even after he and Cas had gotten busy on the bed beforehand. Dean liked to sleep naked with Cas, but the one night he’d had to run to the bathroom with his ass out in the air hadn’t been pleasant at all, not with the knowledge that he could run into either Sam or Charlie on his way across the hallway buck naked, which was a situation he’d really like to avoid.

Sighing, Dean rolled over so he was lying on his back, finally opening his eyes so he could stare up at the ceiling. Even the sound of Dean’s breathing seemed a little too loud in the dead silence of the Bunker at night, and he was once more reminded of the thin walls and echoing hallways.

Even if those problems, they did figure out a system for sex in the Bunker. They just had to be mindful of the noise, which had been a reason for worry in Dean's head at first, but they did manage to work around that little issue. They just had to be extra quiet, which might be a little challenging, but sometimes it was a little bit of a turn on too. Cas actually seemed to have more of a problem with it than Dean, but then again, the angel hadn’t grown up traveling around with his brother and his father inhabiting the same room like Dean had, having for years grown accustomed to needing to be quiet in certain situations.

Also, Dean had finally asked Cas about how the seraph seemed to know so much about sex when he’d only in fact had it once before Dean, and the angel had simply replied that he had ‘spent centuries’ watching humanity and sex had been a constant throughout that entire time, with very little changes. He wasn’t aware of all the details, especially not with same-sex couples, but he had a general idea. So, yeah, now Dean knew Cas was a bit of a creep too, but well, who was he to complain about it?

At least no one had walked in on them yet, so Dean was really counting that as a win. But then again, they hadn’t gotten really adventurous, keeping their activities confined to Dean’s bedroom and the shower room, locking the door every time.

The nausea got worse all of a sudden, and Dean was just about ready to get up, the upper half of his body already lifted from the mattress, his arms bent as they supported part of his weight, but the feeling started to get weaker just a moment later, lingering in that state of not being enough for him to puke, but just enough so he couldn't got back to sleep.

With a huff, Dean lowered himself back onto the bed.

Somehow, he preferred the nights when he had to actually throw up, because at least he could go to sleep as soon as he was done.

Shaking his head and swallowing once more, he turned his head to the side. His eyes had already adjusted enough to the darkness so he could make out the shape of Cas, lying on his stomach with his arms tucked under his pillow, hugging it to his chest, his face turned toward Dean.

A smile worked its way into Dean’s lips at the sight.

Sometimes, it just hit him, out of nowhere, that this was really happening, that it was real, that Cas was really _there_. It felt so good to think about it, it was still hard to actually believe this was truly happening. Maybe it had been the countless years of pining, of just being so sure that this would never happen, that made it harder for him to actually get used to this. Whatever it was, it seemed like it would take a while to go away.

He just couldn’t get tired of it, of waking up to Cas’ warmth every day, the angel’s arms often around his waist from behind, or sometimes resting his head on the hunter’s chest as the angel used him as his pillow, half-lying on top of him. It also felt pretty good to wake up to the feeling of fingers running through his hair as a hand caressed his head in slow, gentle movements, as if trying not to wake him.

Cas would usually wake up first, although he would normally linger in bed until Dean woke up, save from few days when the angel would wake up ridiculously early and for some reason wouldn’t been able to go back to sleep, as it had happened in their first night in the Bunker. In those rare days Cas would quietly slip out of bed without waking Dean, choosing to instead go to the library to help with research earlier than normal.

Dean didn’t really like those mornings, though. The bed felt cold without Cas in it, too empty, and it should probably worry him just how used he had gotten to sleeping with the angel, how addicted he was to Cas’ company in his bed, to the feeling of his body so close and within reach all night. It scared him just how accustomed to it he seemed to have become.

For some reason Dean just loved waking up in the middle of the night, when the Bunker was dead quiet and dark, not because of his nausea, but just because he  _did._ So Dean would just laid there, watching Cas sleep, noticing how often the angel’s face kept scrunching up in his sleep, his lips twitching just barely and his eyes moving under the eyelids like he was dreaming, although Dean wasn’t sure if Cas even dreamed. And if he spent quite some time wondering what the angel could be dreaming about, once more wishing he knew how to peek into Cas’ mind through the bond, well, no one needed to know about it but himself.

He’d asked Cas about the whole dreaming thing one night, and as it turned out the angel did dream, but it was a pretty new thing for Cas. It had first happened when he had been human, but his dreams had stopped once he’d gotten some more Grace, because apparently angels didn't dream at all. They had started again after he and Cas had bonded, although his dreams tended to not be at all coherent, and he usually didn’t remember them afterwards.

Slowly, Dean lifted his hand to brush over the front of Cas' hair, where a stray tuff of hair was sticking out. He lowered it, his touch light so it wouldn't wake the angel, and he smiled as Cas sighed a little in his sleep. He seemed to do that a lot. He snored very little, though, Dean could barely hear it. He didn't move much either, unlike Dean.

And yeah, okay, so he liked to watch Cas sleep. It wasn’t his fault that too often he just woke up in the middle of the night because his nausea decided to be a bitch. And what else could he do then but watch Cas? There was nothing wrong with it. And yeah, okay, he knew he was being a creep and all that, because this wasn’t the first time he was watching the angel sleep, but Cas did it too, so he was entitled.

Yeah. Alright. Moving on.

“Dean?”

The hunter’s head snapped to the side as he jumped a little, surprised. He found Cas watching his through heavy eyelids, trying to blink the sleep away from his eyes so he could focus on Dean’s face rather on whatever blurry image he must be seeing then.

“Yeah?” Dean whispered in response, turning a little on the bed so he was facing Cas.

“Why are you awake?” Cas’ question was low, the words dragging on his tongue. He was clearly still half-asleep.

“Did I wake you?”

“Your discomfort did.” There was no bitterness at all in Cas’ voice, but Dean still felt bad. Cas needed his sleep, and here Dean was, keeping him up at night because he didn't know how to keep his freaking discomfort to himself. “What’s wrong?”

Dean shook his head, “Just nauseous. Not enough to puke, though. Kinda worse than when I do.”

Under the covers, a hand rested on Dean’s naked hip, just above the waistband of his boxers, massaging the skin softly, reassuringly. “Just a few more weeks, then the morning sickness should be gone.”

Dean nodded, albeit weakly. “Yeah. Kinda sucks that it lasts a lot more than normal, though. I mean, shouldn’t your Grace make it go away… faster or something?”

Cas seemed much more alert then, scooting closer to Dean on the bed. The hand on Dean’s hip traveled higher slowly, almost lazily, brushing over his ribs until it reached his shoulder, and then moved to his neck, where it paused, once more caressing the skin under it. “During gestation, nephilims require much more energy than humans, I'm just now realizing how much. A nephilim has a Grace of its own, not like a full angel’s, but similar, and the process to form it is slower. The fact that you’re a male makes it harder, too, since your body was not built to carry a child. There are too many things to be changed and adapted, and that takes time. That way, your body needs more than nine months.”

Yeah, that made sense, Dean supposed. "How different is it, though? To form the nephilim's Grace than just a human soul? I mean, why does it take longer?"

"The forming of a human soul happens alongside with their development. It blooms into existence just a few days after conception, and it only grows after that. It usually finishes being formed close to the time of birth."

"But what about premature births?" The baby's soul not being ready seemed like something that should be a pretty big problem in Dean's head.

"There is no harm in them for humans," Cas shook his head lightly. "A human child's soul does not need contact with their parents' souls to develop, so it can continue to form after the birth. A human soul is contantly growing during the first years of life. It actually does not stop until adulthood, when it finally hits full maturity."

Well, Death hadn't been lying when he'd said souls were complex. Dean had learned a lot about them over the years, and here he was, still not aware of everything, still learning more about them. "And with nephilims?"

Cas shifted a little on the bed, making a pause as he seemed to think his answer through. "Nephilims are different. Like angels, they need contact with their parents' essences to develop. I imagine the premature birth of a nephilim could happen, but only in the last few months, and it would most likely be dangerous still. The forming of Grace is a... complicated process, and it should not be interrupted. But because with a nephilim only one parent has Grace, it takes longer to form it, especially because you're male. My Grace cannot handle both adjusting your body to every need you have for the pregnancy and giving the baby the energy they need in nine months, so the whole process is slowed down."

"Just slowed down? So if I were, say, four months along, would that mean that I'm about... where a woman would be in the third month?"

"Not precisely, but yes, I believe that analogy can be made with very little error."

Well, that was good to know.

Dean sighed, scooting closer to the angel until his head was lying on Cas' chest. The hand that had been on his neck slid back down to rest on the side of his bare arm, just below his left shoulder, and it suddenly occurred to Dean that the place where the angel's hand was resting had been the spot where Cas' handprint had once been. It was gone now, healed over the years, but for some reason the skin there tingled in response to the angel's touch. The hunter lifted his body a little so that Cas' other arm could snake its way under him as the angel wrapped it around his waist and pulled him even closer.

"How do you feel?" Cas asked into his hair.

Dean gave Cas the best shrug he could manage lying down like that. "Still nauseous. It gets better and worse, but doesn't go away, or let me sleep, at least."

He felt Cas nod, the movement light, slow. A kiss was pressed to the top of his head. "Do you want anything? Water, perhaps?"

Dean had to admit that he did feel a little thirsty, but he definitely didn't want to get up right now, just as he didn't want Cas to leave the bed. Also, he didn't want to lose his heat source, so he shook his head, "Nah, I'm fine." He buried his face into Cas' throat, and sighed at the feeling of the angel's fingers moving through his hair. "Just stay here with me."

The arm around his waist tightened a little, and Cas shifted a little under Dean, the angel's nose pressing into his hair as the seraph adjusted his body for them to be more comfortable. Dean closed his eyes, and sighed contently.

The nausea was insistent today, however, and it didn't seem willing to go away. It didn't fade gradually like normal, didn't go away in a few minutes as Dean had hoped it would. No, it continued just as strong as at first, just as annoying, and Dean had to swallow almost constantly, trying to rid himself of the feeling of it, to no avail. He shifted a few times on the mattres even if he didn't really need to, adjusting himself against Cas a handful of times as the nausea only seemed to get worse, a few huffs escaping his lips every time he thought maybe he would need to make a break for the bathroom after all.

"I'm sorry I cannot ease your discomfort, Dean."

Dean opened his eyes again, lifting his head a little so he could meet Cas' eyes. He knew the look he would find in them, because they'd already had that conversation before, more than once even.

For some reason, Cas just seemed to think Dean blamed him for this, that Dean believed him to be at fault here somehow, which was completely ridiculous, but the angel just didn't seem able to see that. He looked like it was his fault every time Dean had to throw up, every time Dean had to wait some time to eat a meal because he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it down, and honestly, it hurt to see the guilt in the angel's eyes every time.

"Cas, come on," Dean whispered, shaking his head lightly, "Don't apologize. We've talked about this before."

The guilty, heavy look in Cas' eyes didn't soften. "I know," was his response. He let out a breath, adjusting himself a little on the bed as well, shifting Dean with him. "I simply... I wish I could take some of the weight off of your shoulders."

"It's okay that you can't, Cas. Seriously." And okay, it did kind of suck that Cas couldn't interfere with any of the symptoms from the pregnancy, but it wasn't his fault, and Dean certainly wasn't blaming him for anything. Again, there was just no blame to be placed here. "I can deal with it, really."

"You should not have to deal with everything alone, Dean," the angel whispered in response, "I wish I could carry some of the load for you."

Dean shook his head lightly, an easy smile slipping into his lips, "I'm not alone, Cas." He lowered his head a little, just so he could brush his mouth over Cas' in a light kiss, before pulling back slightly. The angel sighed, Dean felt it on his mouth, felt the warm hair washing over his lips, making his skin tingle, before the angel leaned forward to lay a longer kiss to Dean's lips, slow and lazy, nothing more than their mouths sliding leisurely against each other, without any rhythm and patiently, like they had all the time in the world.

When they pulled away, Dean was still smiling, and he let out a chuckle out of his lips at a sudden thought. "Still, you know, it would have been nicer if _you_ were the one pregnant, but it's a little too late for that." Sometimes Dean actually wondered about that. If Dean had topped in Omaha instead of Cas, would the angel be the one pregnant right now?

Still, the comment had been meant as a joke, but apparently Cas took it seriously. He paused, his brows furrowing a little. "Two months ago I would have told you that an angel bearing a nephilim would be impossible. However, these past few weeks have been proof enough that 'impossible' might not be a valid notion anymore." Dean huffed out a low laugh in agreement. "I believe it would be more appropriate to say that it would be very... difficult. It's not viable at all."

Dean frowned. "Why not? I mean, shouldn't it be easier? Because, you know, you have your own Grace and all, while I'm borrowing yours for adjustments and stuff." It just seemed more logic in Dean's head, that a pregnancy in a male body should be easier for an angel than for a human.

Surprisingly, Cas shook his head. "Logically, indeed, it should be easier for an angel's Grace to alter a male body for a pregnancy were that body their vessel. However, a human soul would not be able to provide the energy the nephilim needs through the soul bond like an angel's Grace can."

"But can't you draw from my soul?"

"I can," Cas nodded slowly, "But not in the same way. Your soul needs to be able to provide energy to the nephilim constantly, just as my Grace has, but unlike an angel's Grace, for a human soul, that is only viable within your body if the amount of energy is too great. If I were to be the one carrying, your soul would not be able to bear the strain of it, of pouring out so much energy into the soul bond during every second of every day. Your soul cannot provide that much energy for so long without draining you. Something like that would most likely kill you, Dean."

Dean wasn't sure how that conversation had turned so heavy, but it had, and all he could do was nod in response. "Well, it doesn't matter now, anyway."

Cas paused, then nodded slowly, his expression softening a little. The hand on Dean's hip traveled forward, resting against Dean's stomach, the angel's finger's bending a little, the tips brushing against the hunter's skin in a light caress. "It does not, indeed."

Dean let out a breath, settling back against Cas, closing his eyes as he listened to the angel's heart beating inside his chest, to the sound of him breathing, his lungs being filled and emptied rhythmically, all of it so calming that it was quickly making Dean feel sleepy.

Dean yawned, tightening his arms a little against Cas and feeling the angel do the same in response. "The nausea's almost gone now," He realized then.

"Do you think you can sleep?"

The hunter nodded lightly, "Yeah, I think so."

He felt Cas nodding, then a hand was back to his hair, fingertips running lightly over the skin of his scalp. "Good."

And that how Dean fell asleep—to the calming rhythm of Cas' breathing, the steady beat of the angel's heart, his heat under and around Dean, engulfing him in a comfortable warmth, a hand carding softly through his hair, and a smile playing on his lips. 

***~*~*~*~***

The days passed, and the routine didn't change much.

Most of their time was spent in the library as they worked through their research, as they looked for something,  _anything._ The lack of results was rather discouraging, though, so much that the mood around the Bunker had been shifting quickly, turning almost sour and tense, like a dark cloud hovered over all of their heads almost constantly, but they had no means to make it go away.

Because the need for rest seemed to be growing almost exponentially, they would have a movie night pretty often, initially at Charlie’s request, but soon enough it just became a habit to stop research some nights to watch some movies and series. Dean actually liked those nights a lot. They had a warm family feeling to them he couldn’t quite shake, but that had him smiling more often than not. It felt nice to be watching movies with the closest people to him, with his tiny little family unit, and it made him forget about their problems for just a little while.

Sometimes Sam and Charlie would break out the beers, though, and of course Dean would refuse them every time. Cas would too, maybe for compassion for him, or maybe because of his Grace, Dean didn’t know. What he knew was that he felt uneasy every time Sam pointed out that one beer wouldn’t do any harm and he had to insist that he really shouldn’t have even one without really having a reason to. He would have broken already had this been over a month ago, before Absarokee, and that thought never failed to send a chill down his spine, because he hadn't known before then that he  _couldn't_ drink after Omaha, even if he hadn't had as much as a single drop of alcohol after that night in Nebraska.

And while he couldn’t drink, only Cas knew why, and he had to ignore the confused frowns from Sam and Charlie the three other times they had offered him a beer during movie night. Fortunately, they stopped after that, seeming to have finally realized that Dean was adamant about this and wouldn't change his mind.

Dean continued to cook, more often as the time passed. Everyone seemed to like it, and it made him feel better, not only because it calmed him, but also because he felt more at ease preparing his own food, since he knew he had to eat healthy now. Whenever neither he nor Charlie felt like cooking, though, they had no other choice but go out and buy food. And maybe Dean shouldn’t feel this way, but Cas was pretty much spoiling him. Every time he went into town he brought back something extra, usually pie, to make sure Dean was properly fed and happy. It warmed his heart every time. 

All in all, their days were passing with this weird domestic vibe that Dean was quickly getting used to, even though he knew he really shouldn’t, because something like that surely couldn’t last long. It never did, that was just how things were in their lives. It had always been like that for the Winchesters, and Dean doubted anything would ever change that.

So it wasn’t a surprise that their little domestic routine went on for only a little under two weeks, until one day someone finally broke it. Surprisingly, it was Charlie who did it.

***~*~*~*~***

“You found what?”

Dean squinted at the screen of the laptop in front of him, eyeing the page Charlie was showing him with a confused frown. It was the information on a book on the website of a library, and everything on the page was written in a foreign language (Italian, it seemed), but the book title was in English. The Book of the Damned by Charles Fort, it read, published in 1919. There was a picture beside the book's technical information, a red hard cover with the title written in black, but nothing that really caught Dean’s attention.

“It’s called the Book of the Damned,” the redhead explained, “I couldn’t find too much on it, but supposedly, it’s a lore book about ancient curses and dark magic. It’s pretty old and hard to find, there's only one copy in this library in Tuscany that I could find, but it might be a lead. I mean, there might be something in it that could help us getting the Mark of Cain off of you, Dean.”

Dean nodded, agreeing that yeah, that might be worth checking out, but honestly, he couldn’t allow his hopes to get up too high. The book might not even have anything on the Mark at all. None of the books in the Men of Letters library had anything on it, so why would this random book have it? “Maybe,” he agreed lowly, still eyeing the screen, and even to his ears the word sounded almost detached.

“I have heard of it,” Cas mentioned calmly, and Dean looked up, meeting the angel’s gaze for a second before the seraph turned his gaze to Charlie instead. There was a weird conviction in his eyes all of a sudden, such strength in his tone that actually caught Dean by surprise, “Although I highly doubt the book in this library would be the original one. The Book of the Damned... it is known as an object of power. It holds very powerful dark magic, ancient even. It has gone missing decades ago. Not even Heaven knows of its current location. It would not be easy to find it, but it could be something; a lead, perhaps.”

Well, maybe it might not be a dead end after all.

“Do you think you can track it, Charlie?” It was Sam who asked, and Dean didn’t miss the sliver of hope pooling into his brother's voice, the way he perked up in his seat, his eyes almost pleading as he waited for an answer.

Dean understood why, he truly did, but he didn’t allow himself to grow too hopeful just. Sure, the book might be a real lead, the first one they'd had in months, but even if they did manage to find it somehow, the original one, what guarantee did they have that there was any way to get the Mark off of him in it? This was a long shot, and Dean just couldn't let his hopes grow too much because ofit like his brother so easily managed.

“Honestly, I don't know. Maybe...” She shook her head lightly, biting her lower lip a little as she seemed to consider it. "Maybe we can see what this one in Italy is about, anyway. It might lead to the original one, who knows."

Dean couldn't find it in himself to agree, but he saw Sam nodding. Cas didn't respond either.

Charlie typed something else into her laptop, even with the lack of response, her fingers flying over the keyboard just like they had before, when she had been about to show them the book, “Also, there’s something else I found.”

Charlie turned her laptop for Dean to see once more, but all he saw in the screen were a bunch of codes he could not understand. He had no idea what they could possibly mean, so he leaned away from the screen to let Sam see it better. His brother was the computer smart one, not him. Cas also looked confused, so at least he wasn’t the only one.

"What is this?" Sam asked, but he didn't sound like completely lost, just a little confused as his eyes danced over the screen, "What are you trying to find with this?"

“I’ve been trying to track down Cas’ Grace, but nothing I was trying until a few days ago was working too well. I’ve been looking for any weird events that started out after May 13th, 2013, the night of the Angel Fall. You know, something crazy and freaky like the comet and the tree you guys found when Anna lost her Grace.”

Dean nodded, because that part he got easily enough. He had tried doing that already, actually, but looking through hundreds and hundreds of news articles about miracle births, unexplained healings and weird happenings had led him nowhere. Some of the stuff he’d found had nothing to do with angels at best, and the few ones he had actually looked into had been dead ends. And either way, there were just too many of them.

“Well, I built an algorithm to narrow down that search, because a lot of what came up ended up being just crazy cases or something else, maybe even some angels who just didn't leave the places where they Fell, who knows. So I tried to look for anything that’s been a constant throughout the past two years, and only miracle stuff, nothing too insane or freaky. They go from plantations being overly fertile to a bunch of people getting miraculously cured in the same town with no explanation whatsoever, including from heavy stuff, like cancer or a stroke, and even Alzheimer.” She typed down something into the computer once more, and a text document opened up. “These are all the results that were a match.”

Dean and Sam leaned closer to the table to look at the screen, while Cas sat completely still beside them, but although the angel made no move to get closer, his eyes were also glued to the list displayed before them. His expression was pretty much unreadable, though, and once more Dean wished he could understand how the soul bond worked so he could figure out what was going on inside Cas' head.

On the screen they could see a list of town names, and beside each one were a few key words that were probably there so Charlie would know whatever crazy stuff had happened in each place, like a system to sort them out more easily.

“Charlie, you’re a genius,” Sam breathed out, a smile taking over his lips. Charlie shrugged, smiling back almost shyly.

“How many are there?” From the looks of it, there were _a lot_ of them. And even so, Dean had to admit that this was a lot more than what they'd ever had before when it came to searching for Cas' Grace; their best (and only) lead so far. They'd had literally  _nothing_ up until now; not a single lead apart from Metatron's word that there was still some of it out there, which really wasn't worth anything.

“Total? 13,467.” Wow, yeah, that was a lot of them, alright. Dean already felt the little hope that had begun to blossom in his chest deflate, shrinking back quite a few sizes. “But only 872 are in the US. The others are in other countries.”

Well, wasn’t that just awesome. The whole idea of the list was good, it really was, but this just wasn't viable at all. How the hell could they ever look into every single one of those? “We can’t go through all of these. I mean, if…” He let the words die on his tongue before he could say them. If Cas could still fly, then they might be able to do it, but he shouldn't say that out loud right now. This was still a pretty touchy subject for Cas, Dean knew that too well, and fortunately he'd stopped the words before they jumped out of his mouth. He really didn’t want to see the reaction he knew that comment would get from Cas—the way the angel's face would fall whenever someone brought up the subject of his missing wings; the sad, dejected look that would take over his features every time it happened. Dean hated it, but what he hated more was the fact that he could nothing about it; that he had no way to fix it.

"Maybe Gabriel could," Sam suggested lowly, his voice hesitant as he cast a look over to Dean and Cas, like he already knew his idea wouldn't be well received.

The image of Gabriel's face immediately entered Dean's mind, filled with barely contained rage, his eyes darker than Dean had ever seen them, the air around him loaded with raw power. Honestly, Dean doubted Gabriel would be willing to help them with this, and anyway, he still didn't trust the bastard at all.

Sam did have a point, though. Gabriel still had his wings, so technically he could go through that list a lot faster than they ever could, but the idea of praying to Gabriel to ask him for help didn't make Dean happy in the least.

"If he's up for it, yeah, that would make things a lot easier," Charlie nodded at him, smiling a little more surely now, looking more confident than she had before. But then turned her head to the side, her face falling slightly as her eyes found the silent angel sitting next to Dean. “Cas?” Her tone was hopeful, but there was a hint of hesitance in her voice, something suddenly holding her excitement back quite a lot, like someone stomping on a campfire, letting a few coals still shine with heat, but making the bigger, stronger flames die under their heavy steps.

All eyes landed on the angel, who until now had not said a single word about Charlie’s list. He didn’t look hopeful at all about this plan; his expression was pretty much unreadable, and Dean could already feel it coming—the comment that would without a doubt diminish whatever hope they could still have about Charlie's plan.

Only this time, Dean kind of agreed with him already, even without knowing what the angel was about to say exactly. Charlie's idea was good, of course it was, but it would just take too long to go through that entire list, or even just part of it, because there were just  _too many results_ ; too many leads that would just end up leading them to nothing in the end. Following Charlie's plan meant wasting time they didn't  _have._

“Grace is nothing more than energy; creation in its purest form. Like Anael’s Grace, any other angel’s essence should leave mark, were it to be left unattended without control, which is precisely what happened when all angels Fell from Heaven. An event like that often leaves a mark, a brand in the location an angel Fell, no matter if they survived the Fall or not. Either way, some of their Grace should still remain there for a limited period of time, longer depending on how severe their wounds were, or how long they stayed there.”

Dean just didn't know where exactly Cas wanted to get with that, but his mind did focus on one thing in particular. "Doesn't that mean that your Grace should leave a Mark, too? Or give out some sort of... signal or something? I mean, if Metatron just left it hidden somewhere, it's not being controlled at all."

Cas' nod was slow, hesitant for some reason. "It should. However,” _Of course there’s a however,_ “Metatron is also very much aware of this, and for that reason I do not believe he would leave my Grace in any state that would allow it to change its surroundings. That would make it easier to track it, and that is the last thing he wishes me to do. So I would assume he has not left my Grace without wards.”

“So you’re saying... theses might not lead to anything. That _all_ of them might just be... places where angels Fell.” Charlie sounded so disappointed, it was almost painful to hear it. Dean himself felt his chest clench a little.

Cas hesitated before answering, like he realized he should be choosing his words carefully now. Dean could clearly see him struggling, and he had a feeling that Cas might be holding back right now, like there something he didn’t want to say then, or at least not in front of the others. Dean briefly wondered what that could possibly be, but decided he should ask Cas about it later. “They might. I’m simply pointing out that there is a chance they won’t. For that reason, I would not think it prudent to focus on this course of action fully. Also, I believe that for the time being we should not involve Gabriel."

An awkward silence settled over the room after that. Dean had several questions in his mind right then, especially about why Cas seemed so intent on not involving Gabriel right now when the seraph had seemed very much willing to accept the archangel's help back in Absarokee, but the hunter didn't voice any of them, afraid that maybe the answer Cas would give him should not be said in front of the others; that it might have something to do with the nephilim.

Even if their hopes had been dimmed terribly, Charlie still seemed intent on following through with her plan.

“Still, if your Grace is by any chance somewhere in these places,” She pointed at the screen of her laptop once more, her gestures suddenly a lot more eager than before, like she needed to prove a point or something, convince them and herself that her list could still work somehow, a clear urgency quickly taking over her movements and slipping into her voice, “You’d be able to feel it, even with the wards, right? Like Anna could?”

Cas’ nod was slow, like he wasn’t sure where Charlie was trying to get with that. “Yes, I most likely would. I cannot think of a warding strong enough to prevent that.”

“Well, then it’s settled.” Charlie clapped her hands together once, glancing around at the three sets of eyes observing her curiously, and honestly, a little confused.

“What’s settled?” Sam was the one to ask, a frown in his eyebrows.

A smile broke out on Charlie’s lips as she announced, “Cas and I are going on a road trip!”

***~*~*~*~***

So, to say Dean wasn’t exactly happy about this whole road trip idea was a pretty big understatement.

And alright, okay, he knew Cas had to go. There was just no way for Charlie to find Cas’ Grace other than by going to all the places on her list and have the angel sense his Grace if they came close enough for it, especially if Metatron did in fact put wards around it. They had no other way to track it, because they had no way to perform a spell without some of the angel's original Grace. Dean got that; he really did. He just wasn’t happy about the idea of going through that entire list, which would without a doubt take way too long, even if they didn't go through all the results. Checking the entire thing just seemed impossible in Dean's mind, but Charlie seemed positive that they could find Cas' Grace through her list, and Sam seemed to vehemently agree with her, or maybe he was just too hopeful. In Dean's head, however, all he could see was that all of it meant spending time they didn't have on a possible wild-goose chase. 

Also, the list had results from all over the world, which created all sorts of other problems, and Dean really didn’t want to think about that just yet. Sam still insisted on praying to Gabriel, but Dean still wasn't happy about it, and honestly, he was pretty sure the archangel wouldn't even answer them. He had no reason to, especially not after that little spat they'd had back at the cabin. Fortunately, Cas didn't seem to agree with resorting to Gabriel either, so at least that seemed to hold back Sam and Charlie from praying to the archangel for now.

Dean didn't voice any of his concerns to the others in the library, though. He didn’t want to be the one to stomp down on their only plan, no matter how little chance it had of working, but he had to admit that he really wasn’t confident about this whole thing. This whole plan just seemed doomed to fail in Dean's head. Cas' Grace might not even be on that list to begin with. The chances of this idea working were just too low for such high stakes, and Dean just failed to see the point of following through with it, even if it would only be Cas and Charlie out there, while Dean and Sam stayed behind in the Bunker to continue with their research.

And the thing was, Cas didn’t seem confident at all about this whole plan either. The seraph seemed even more skeptical than Dean was, and honestly, the hunter didn't even know why Cas had agreed to it in the first place. The angel had actually not said much on the matter after agreeing, choosing to instead remain silent for very close to an hour after Charlie's road trip annnouncement. He didn't make a comment, not even single a suggestion, and instead just listened in silence to Sam and Charlie (and sometimes Dean) discussing better routes over a map.

The angel did leave the library quietly at some point, though, simply walking out of the room without a word, which had gotten him a few confused glances and raised eyebrows from Sam and Charlie.

Dean lingered in the library with the others for a little while after that, even though he’d wanted nothing more than to follow Cas wherever the angel had taken off to, which he assumed to have been the hunter’s bedroom.

His resolve did not last long, and after only a few more minutes of conversation Dean found his feet moving as he silently left the library to find Cas. Now they could talk in private about this whole road trip thing, and also about whatever else that seemed to have been on Cas' mind earlier when Charlie had first showed them the list, but that the angel had clearly not wanted to voice back then.

He had been right about where Cas had gone off to; that became obvious as soon as he heard shuffling inside his bedroom through the partially open door. However, what he saw once he walked inside the room wasn’t something he had been expecting to see at all.

The comforter on the bed had been pulled to the side, and on the mattress laid a few items scattered around—there were more pillows than the usual two, some clothes and even a few more blankets. Dean recognized a few of his shirts, but he had no idea where the pillows and blankets had come from. He knew there were a few extras stored in some vacant rooms around the Bunker, so had Cas gotten them from the other rooms around Dean's?

And then there was Cas himself, fluffing one of the pillows as if there was absolutely nothing wrong or weird about any of this, moving it around on the bed like he was looking for a good spot for it or something, which made the scene all the more bizarre in Dean’s head.

What the hell was going on here?

“Uh… Cas?”

Cas looked up at Dean for a brief moment, before glancing back down at his pillow, looking so concentrated on what he was doing that he might as well be performing open-heart surgery right then and there. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean waited a beat, just watching as Cas moved more stuff around on the bed, sometimes just moving an item back and forth between two different spots on the mattress like the place where it rested was the most important question in the world, a deep frown playing on the angel's brows.

Okay, this was getting weird.

Finally Dean managed to ask, “What are you doing?” Because honestly, he had no freaking idea.

That seemed to snap Cas out of his trance, because when he looked back up at Dean, the angel actually looked a little flustered. He looked back down at… whatever it was that he had been doing in here, but instead of concentrated, his expression was now hesitant, and maybe even a little nervous, like he wasn’t really sure how to explain himself, which only made Dean even more confused and curious.

“I… apologize for this. I did not mean to let it happen, it just did.”

Yeah, Dean was getting more confused by the second here. “I’m really not following, Cas.”

“I…” Cas looked completely flustered now and was clearly lacking words, which was a really weird sight to see. “My instincts have been…” He stopped, and then eyed the open room door, like he was weary someone might walk by out in the hallway and hear him. Dean immediately understood what this might have to do with, read the silent message flashing through the angel’s eyes clearly enough, so he hurried to close the door, just in case either Sam or Charlie walked by and heard something they weren’t supposed to know just yet.

It was only when the door was closed and Dean was facing him once more that Cas continued.

“My instincts have been very intense and insistent since I found out you’re bearing. And I’ve been trying to ignore them since Montana, but now I’ll be leaving in three days and I…” Cas let out a breath, and once more Dean was startled by just how human Cas was acting these days. Sure, that had been happening a lot more now in comparison to when Dean had first met Cas, having grown more common over the years, but the process had been pretty gradual before. Now, the change was pretty drastic, and briefly Dean wondered if the bond really was making Cas more human, and just how much.

Also, shouldn’t that mean that the bond should make Dean more angel, too?

He pushed that thought away for now, because this just wasn’t the time for that, but he knew he would have to come back to it later.

“Angels nest, when expecting a fledging. And I have been trying to suppress the urge to do so until now.”

“So… you’re nesting?” Because that didn’t sound weird at all.

Cas nodded tightly, glancing back down at the bundle of pillows and blankets and clothes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I knew you wouldn’t like it, but it’s beginning to get very hard to fight it now. I’m anxious, and I just…”

And suddenly it made sense, why Cas was acting so weird, why he was anxious, as he called it. “You don’t want to leave.”

Cas shook his head weakly. “No. The idea is not at all appealing to me. But I need to go.”

Dean nodded, because as much as he wished to disagree with Cas, he couldn’t, because Cas was right—in order for Charlie's idea to have a minimal chance of working, Cas had to leave. Charlie wouldn’t sense Cas’ Grace like the angel himself could, which meant that although she could visit all the places in that list, she could literally step right past the angel's Grace, she could be right in front of it, and not find it. And they couldn’t have that, not in their current situation, not with just how much was at stake here and how little time they had to fix it all.

“I don’t want you to go either.” The words jumped from the hunter's tongue without his permission, but he didn’t feel like taking them back once they were out. They were true, anyway. “You don’t think this road trip will lead to anything, though, do you?” It had been pretty clear in the library, but right now it was even easier to see it than it had been before.

Cas’ expression darkened visibly, and he looked back down at the nest once more. “I do not believe it will be that easy, and if the situation were any different, maybe I would not encourage this altogether. The whole idea seems almost… pointless."

"Is that why you don't want to involve Gabriel?" Dean guessed. It seemed like the logical answer in his head, at least.

The nod he got from Cas was slow, almost tired. "Gabriel might be going after something for the Mark. He won't tell us what he has in mind, true, but he implied that maybe he could find something more solid, and I don't want to ask him to follow a trail that will most likely lead nowhere, especially not one that would take so long follow, when he could be looking for something more promising. It would be nothing more than a waste of time. But…”

Dean waited for Cas to elaborate, but nothing else came apart from another tired breath. The hunter swallowed, feeling a weight settling inside his chest, because he sort of knew what Cas meant without even hearing it. “But?” he still probed, waiting for Cas to finish.

Cas let out another heavy breath, which sounded way too much like a defeated sigh for Dean’s liking. “I can’t…” Shaking his head once more, Cas took the few steps that separated them, and suddenly Cas’ arms were around Dean, the angel’s nose nuzzling against his neck. The seraph’s grip was tight around him, like he was afraid of what might happen if he let go. So Dean wrapped his own arms around the smaller form of Cas’ body, holding him and hoping this would make him feel better somehow, because he could tell Cas needed this right now.

Against the skin of his neck, Dean felt Cas whisper the words, “I cannot lose hope, not with this. If I do…”

Dean closed his eyes, feeling the angel shaking slightly in his arms. He realized then that Cas had been building up a wall around himself, trying to hide just how much everything was getting to him, building a strong front for Dean and everyone else to see. But right now, that wall was threatening to crumble down right before Dean's eyes. He could hear it in the way the angel’s voice trembled, in the way Cas clung to him like he was terrified, in the way his muscles shook minutely every few seconds.

“I know,” Dean whispered back, because he knew exactly how Cas was feeling, because he _felt_ it too.

Dean had been ready to give up, before all of this. He had all but made peace with the fact that the Mark would be the end of him, that there was no cure for him on this one, that he was beyond saving at this point. Sure, he would go down swinging, but he had pretty much lost hope that they would ever find a cure for the Mark. And he had been fine with it, he really had, because taking on the Mark had been his call in the first place, his choice, and he’d done it to save lives. It had been either that or let Abaddon run free and take over Hell.

But now he couldn’t even let in that thought. His life wasn’t the only one at risk anymore, so he no longer could allow himself to think that way, to give up on this fight; he couldn’t even consider it. He just couldn’t.

And that was what Cas was doing now. Somehow, not following even the most improbable of leads already felt like giving up. They had nothing else to work with, which meant that they also had nothing to lose if they at least gave Charlie's list a chance. It might not lead to anything, and it probably wouldn't, that was true, but now Dean realized that at least it felt like they were doing something, since following this list was already so much more than what they had been doing before. They could only hole up in the Bunker and bury themselves in books for so long.

Dean got it then. This search might not get them anywhere, but there was this tiny, minimal chance that it might work, and it was precisely because of that chance that Cas had agreed to this road trip.

It was quite a long while later when Dean pulled away from Cas, moving slowly, leaning down to kiss the angel’s lips in what he hoped would be a reassuring gesture. Seeing Cas like this was sending waves of despair through his own self, but he did his best not to let it show, because right now, Cas needed him to be strong, for the both of them. Dean just now realized how the angel had taken that task to himself, had been trying to bear it alone, carry it on his own shoulders until he couldn't take it anymore, until it became possible that he might break under the weight of it, and Dean couldn't have that.

He hadn’t meant the kiss to be sexual at all, but that’s what it turned out to be in the end. Their movements grew in speed without a warning, so much urgency suddenly pouring into the bond from both of them, into their every touch, that it was almost overwhelming. Cas’ tongue plunged into Dean's mouth like it had never been there before, claiming it and mapping it out as he had done for first time so many weeks ago, his touches stronger, more desperate, feeling out Dean’s skin like they hadn’t done this in a long time and he had to make himself remember what it felt like.

They ended up on the bed soon after, their discarded clothes joining the others that had already been there on the pile of pillows and blankets that Cas had called a nest, with the angel lying on his back and Dean towering over him, laying kisses all over the vast expanse of tanned skin before him, licking trails over Cas’ body as his hands caressed the angel, teeth grazing over the jut of the seraph's sharp hipbones, hands stroking his length with careful movements, mouth muttering reassurances against the skin of Cas’ neck.

There was an urgency to Cas’ movements, like a silent, wordless plea as he let Dean take the lead, begging almost, and the human quickly complied, making it his goal to make Cas feel better, to take care of him, because that was really all Dean could do right now.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered, kissing the skin under Cas’ ear, feeling the way the seraph shivered at the sound of his voice, “I promise you, Cas. We will.”

And then Cas kissed him, as if he could swallow those words and somehow make them become true, letting his hands run all over the expanse of Dean’s body, like attempting to mold their bodies together permanently, his pace even hungrier, his grip almost pleading as he pulled Dean down and closer, the hunter fitting perfectly between Cas’ legs and pressing his body down against the angel’s.

Dean prepped Cas slowly at first, but the angel was impatient, and the human's own resolve to take it slow was quickly fading, although he did not let himself slide inside Cas before the angel was open enough and ready, no matter how many times Cas asked for him to do just that, no matter how insistently his own cock begged him to just hurry things along, how much it ached in expectation, how every single nerve in his body kept reminding him of just how much they _needed_ this, how even the soul bond seemed to be flaring even more strongly than it normally did between them during sex.

And once Dean was inside of Cas, the hunter let himself forget, let himself get lost in the feeling Cas everywhere, of hands running over his skin, lips mapping his body and tongue lapping the sweat from everything it touched, panting against Dean’s mouth as they thrust together, hands grabbing and massaging everything they could touch with a desperation they hadn’t quite had before, the echoes of what Cas was feeling mingling even more closely with Dean's own sensations, so much the hunter sometimes couldn't even tell them apart, couldn't know for sure whom each one was coming from.

And the noises Cas made, breathy words of encouragement whispered into Dean's ears, low, deep moans rumbling in the angel’s chest and sending chills down the human’s spine, their heartbeats almost in sync as they hammered together inside their chests. Dean couldn’t get tired of any of it, couldn’t get enough. Honestly, Dean was pretty sure he would never get tired of sex with Cas. It had been weeks since their first time together, and yet this still felt new, a thrill still running through his veins at every second, with every touch.

He was really trying to hold back his moans, considering that Sam and Charlie were also in the Bunker, but for some reason it felt harder to keep quiet today. It all just felt so intense, he could barely keep the sounds in, and it seemed that Cas was having the same problem.

It was over pretty quickly, too. They were both too worked up, and the intensity of it all made them both climax faster than usual, every sensation so strong it was amost overwhelming, the echo of the bond almost too intense. But that didn’t mean it felt any less amazing than it had all the previous times, maybe even more. They hadn't had sex like this before. Sure, sex with Cas had never felt to be just about the contact, about physical sensation, but this time it just felt like so much... _more_.

Dean wasn't sure he wanted to think too much about what it meant.

So they just laid there when it was over, holding each other in silence. Dean tucked his head under Cas’ chin, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in the warmth coming from the angel’s body, his arms wrapped around Cas’ torso so he could snuggle as close to the angel as possible. He was really getting used to this; to feeling all of Cas like this.

Also, it actually felt kind of comfortable to lay over so many blankets and pillows, with one comforter wrapped around them.

“You know,” Dean sighed at the feeling of Cas’ hand moving up and down his spine, tracing patterns lightly over his skin with the tips of his fingers, “This doesn’t feel bad, the whole nest thing. It’s kinda comfortable.”

Cas hummed, shifting his arm a little so he could move the petting to Dean’s head, running his fingers carefully through the human’s hair. Dean sighed at the feeling as well, closing his eyes and laying a few lazy kisses against Cas’ throat. “That is the intention of it.”

“So all angels do this? When they’re… bearing?” The term sounded a little weird on his tongue, but it had been what Cas had said earlier, so Dean decided to go with it.

“In theory, yes. At least, the instinct to nest arises when an angel is either expecting a fledging or, as it used to happen before, when my Father created all angels, assigned to raise one.”

“Are they all like this?” Because honestly, Dean had never read or heard about anything like this before. But then again, he hadn’t known angels even mated until a few weeks ago, so who was he to say anything?

“It depends. Usually a nest is to be built out of anything that might bring comfort to us and our fledging, and more recently, to our mate.”

“And the clothes?” They weren’t really adding much to the ‘comfort’ idea, at least. Dean didn’t know what difference those made; all he could really feel were the extra pillows and blankets, plus the thick comforter they normally used.

Cas didn’t answer right away, so Dean opened his eyes to look at him. The angel seemed to be thinking his answer through, or maybe he just didn’t want to say it out loud. “They smell like you," he said finally, his voice low and almost hesitant, "It… calms me down.”

Dean wanted to say something, he really did, but he couldn’t find the words, so he chose to just accept the explanation in silence. It sent his mind back a few years, to the time Cas had been gone after the Leviathan had gotten loose. Dean remembered clearly how he had not found it in himself to get rid of Cas' trench coat in hope—no, it was more than hope. It was like a part of him had just _known_ —that somehow, someday Cas was going to come back. So he’d carried it around with him, and sometimes he’d sneak it into their motel room without Sam seeing it, hiding it under his pillow so at night, when Sam was already asleep, he could hold it in his arms and breathe in Cas’ scent. It hadn’t sent the pain of losing Cas away, didn't ease the terrible feeling of his heart clenching every time he remembered Cas walking into that lake, didn't stop the memory of the Leviathan's voice telling him that Cas was dead from haunting his thoughts, but some nights it worked, and it was the only way he’d manage to fall asleep, just as it seemed to help with his nightmares back then.

He also remembered the way Cas had been in this room when Dean had first found him less than an hour ago, how anxious the angel had clearly been feeling, so he tightened his hold around Cas, feeling the seraph’s arms trying to pull him even closer in response, even if that wasn’t exactly possible.

He felt one of Cas’ hands sliding down, pausing over his stomach, his thumb brushing over the skin in a soft caress, which seemed to be happening pretty often whenever they slept. It had been weird at first, and if Dean was being honest, it still kind of was, but he was slowly getting used to it. Besides, he was pretty sure that also calmed Cas down somehow, so he never commented on it.

They didn’t speak again for a while, so much Dean was soon enough starting to drift off.

However, Cas’ voice jolted him awake at some point.

“It is customary to add feathers from both angels.”

Dean frowned, raising his head a little to give Cas a confused look because honestly, he had no idea what the angel was talking about. His brain wasn’t awake enough to even try to process those words properly. “What?”

“To the nest,” Cas clarified lowly, his gaze distant and almost empty as he stared at the wall by the door, “In the case of a mated pair, both angels add feathers from their wings to the nest. But… you don’t have wings, and I…” Cas swallowed, leaving the sentence unfinished and closing his eyes as he his head fall against the pillow under his head with a heavy, strained sigh. But Dean got exactly what Cas had wished to say, heard the unspoken words the angel could not manage to let out as clear as if they had been said out loud.

_I lost mine._

“You really can’t get them back? Not even with… You know, another's angel's Grace?” Dean had assumed the stolen Grace would have given Cas his wings back, so he had been surprised the day Cas had told him it didn’t work like that.

With his eyes still closed, Cas shook his head feebly in a negative response. “As I said before, the stolen Grace shifts into an imperfect copy of my old Grace. The copy is similar enough to my original Grace to merge with my soul to a certain degree, but not enough to…”

“Give you your wings back.”

Cas nodded slowly. “Our wings are a manifestation of our Grace. But as I don’t have my own Grace, and Adina’s Grace cannot mirror it perfectly, my wings cannot manifest.”

Dean swallowed, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He was suddenly reminded of all the times Cas had looked saddened or bothered when the subject of his Grace had been brought up, and it hurt to just think about it, what that must feel like; to lose part of yourself like that. Sure, Dean had no freaking idea what it was like to have wings, couldn’t even really imagine it either (although he had to admit he was a little curious), but he assumed that losing them might be just like a human losing their legs or arms. They were limbs, part of an angel's very being, not just of his body, but of Cas’ Grace, his freaking essence, his _soul,_ and Metatron had taken them away from Cas like they were nothing.

“Dean.”

Snapping his head back up, Dean realized his hand was closed into a fist around the comforter. The Mark had started grumbling to itself again, its words incoherent and low, but Dean assumed they were meant to be encouraging, telling him to get angrier, trying to whisper ideas of hatred into his ear as his skin burned, begging for him to feed it as he hadn't done it in a while.

Dean closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, forcing the Mark back as well as he could. He had to be more careful with this. It had been a while since the Mark had become loud like that, but it had also been a lot easier than it should for him to lose control just now.

He opened his eyes again to find Cas watching him worriedly. “Sorry, I… I just really hate Metatron.”

Cas’ eyes softened, and Dean instantly knew Cas had figured out exactly what he had been thinking.

The hand petting Dean’s hair was back, but its touch was softer, more grounding, and Dean leaned into it, letting it calm him down a little, feeling the Mark retract completely at last.

“Metatron is to blame for a great portion of our problems, but not all of them,” Cas whispered, the sound of his voice soothing in Dean's ears, “And even if he were, fueling our rage and hatred towards him will get us nowhere.”

Dean nodded tightly, because he knew Cas was right, he truly did, but he still thought it would feel really damn satisfying to stab Metatron in the eye. He decided not to comment on that, though, leaning back a little to curl up against Cas’ side again, resting his head on the angel’s chest and smiling at the sound of his steady heartbeat. He just listened to it for a while, already feeling much calmer than before.

“What were they like? Your wings?” he asked after a long pause, not being able to hold the question back. He had wondered about them a few times over the years, but he had never asked because he wasn’t sure if it was impolite or not, and then Cas had lost them and the subject had just seemed too wrong, because it usually made Cas upset.

But they had been talking about it, so Dean decided he might as well ask.

If Cas had been surprised or upset to hear the question, he didn’t show it. Dean wondered if he had been expecting it somehow. “They were a warrior’s wings, just like every seraph’s should be.”

The answer was vague, true, but Dean still got what Cas meant.

He knew Cas' wings were big, because he had seen their shadows before. He wasn’t sure about the color, though, judging by all the different colored feathers Dean and Sam had found lying around a few times after a visit from Cas or other angels over the years. All he knew was that the feathers were pretty massive, all of them, no matter the color, about a feet long each.

Dean remembered the first time he had found one of those lying on the floor. It had been during that whole thing with Anna, when she had gotten her Grace back. The feather, a gray one, had just been there, lying on the floor of that barn, and Dean had been confused at first. He'd had no idea where it had come from or what bird could possibly have a feather that big, until he'd finally realized that it could be Cas’. Both Uriel and Anna had been in the barn that night, though, so Dean had no way to know for sure whom the feather belonged to.

He also remembered the first thought that had slipped into his head when he’d found the first one—how soft it was. He had expected it to be sharp somehow, rougher to the touch, and yet it was the softest thing he had ever touched in his life. He wasn't sure if he should have done it, but he’d packed it into his duffel, arranging it neatly inside so it wouldn't get squished or something.

More feathers had come over the years, and Dean, Sam and Bobby had grown the habit of holding on to them. Some had stayed with Bobby, because the guy had been a sucker for anything that could be used for spells and apparently angel feathers were really rare, while Dean and Sam had kept the rest in the Impala's trunk, if they ever needed one. Honestly, Dean also liked to keep them because he just liked them a lot. He never told anyone that, though, of course not. To Sam and Bobby, Dean had only wanted them for possible future spells, and to Sam that was still the reason.

So they would gather the feathers as they kept finding them lying around in their motel rooms, at Bobby’s house or anywhere else they went, but that happened very rarely, and they could be from any of the angels who would show up wherever they were—Cas, Uriel, Zachariah, Balthazar, Anna. And there were a lot of them, too, from quite a few different colors, so of course Dean hadn’t been quite able to figure how which ones had been Cas’ over the years. They did have a lot more gray and black ones in comparison to the others, but Dean wasn’t sure which of those could be Cas’ (if either) if he didn't ask the angel about it.

They had managed to save the feathers that had been at Bobby’s after the fire, so they’d joined the two stashes and kept them in the Impala up until this day.

Dean had actually been pretty pissed when he’d realized that Henry had chosen a black one to use for his time traveling spell. Dean really liked the black ones; they were the most beautiful ones, by far. There were different shades of them, though. Some were so dark they looked almost blue depending on the lighting, like ebony, and they actually looked healthier than the rest of the black ones, which were almost faded, but still too dark to be considered gray.

Cas didn’t know they had them, though, and Dean wondered how the angel would feel about that, especially now. Was it rude or something? An offence to the angel or some sort, to keep some of their feathers without them knowing about it, even if they had just fallen off? Dean had no idea, but he hoped with everything he had that Cas wouldn’t be offended by it when the hunter finally told him. He would wait a little bit more for that, though.

But the thing was, he wanted to know the color of Cas' wings, because he had no means to imagine what they looked like without knowing that detail.

"Yeah, that doesn't really help much," he commented, and even though he’d never come across any white ones, he couldn’t help but smirk as he added, “Right now, I’m picturing something white and fluffy in my head."

Cas actually chuckled at that, but the sound was low and lasted too little. In a second his smile faded into something heavier, almost like a grimace. He looked down, taking in a deep breath, and suddenly Dean regretted asking about the subject altogether.

“They were white once.”

“Seriously?” Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he lifted his body again to look at Cas in the eye, but the angel was clearly not joking, his face completely serious. Huh. He hadn’t expected that at all. Still… “Once?”

“All fledgings have white wings, because they are innocent, pure.” Well, so Dean hadn’t been _that_ far off when he’d imagined baby—no, _fledging_ Cas—with little puffy white wings. The baby Jimmy Novak part of it was still a no, though, but again, it was still his mind. “As we grow older, however, our wings change, depending on our… traits, our personality, I would dare to say, or our designations in Heaven, our purpose. Mine became golden for billions of years, and then later on they turned a clear shade of blue, when I was assigned to watch humanity.” A pause, and Dean saw something shift in Cas’ eyes, though he had no idea what the look in them meant exactly. It was still heavy, loaded, but there was a softness to it that confused Dean even more, “Until I went to Hell to rescue you.”

And suddenly there was a weight in Dean’s stomach, a feeling of uneasiness very close to nausea washing over his insides, but he knew it wasn’t morning sickness this time. No, it was different, because his mouth felt impossibly dry and his head was spinning a little as his mind had to actually do a double take to process those words.

He swallowed a few times, clearing his throat and somehow managing to force the question out of his lips, “What… What happened then?”

“They changed again. They became gray, almost silver, but darker. And they remained like that for a whole year, until I rebelled.”

Oh, well, it just had to get worse.

“When an angel rebels, or Falls, it is said that their wings become marked forever. They can no longer change color, either, so the angel has to bear the burden of it for the rest of their existence.”

“Marked how?” Dean croaked out, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

“They become black.”

_Oh._

“So… since the Apocalypse, your wings have been… black?” Dean could see it, he really could, and somehow he thought black wings kind of did fit Cas, but he had a feeling that was definitely not the right thing to say right now, so much he almost felt guilty for just thinking it. This seemed to be a pretty delicate subject, so he kept his mouth shut about it, before he screwed up even more than he already had.

Cas nodded almost somberly, the movement slow and strained. “It is considered… shameful, amongst angels, to have black wings, like a sign of disobedience and malfunction, as Naomi called it.”

And suddenly the air around them felt too thin in the hunter’s lungs because Dean knew this was his fault, of course it fucking was. He had been the one Cas had gone to Hell to rescue, and he had been the reason why Cas had Fallen in the first place. And while he didn’t get why having black wings was such a big deal to angels, it didn’t change the fact that it was important to Cas, and Dean had ruined it.

He _really_ was freaking poison, wasn’t he?

“Cas, I’m sorry. Fuck, I…” What was he supposed to say? What could possibly make this better? Dean had no freaking idea.

Cas looked startled, a frown of confusion taking over his brows for only a moment before he seemed to understand exactly what was going on, and then he was shaking his head, his eyes a little wider than before. “Dean, no, don’t. It is not—”

“No, Cas, don’t even try to say this isn’t my fault. I’m the reason you went to Hell. I’m the reason you _Fell_. If I hadn’t—”

“Dean!”

Dean snapped his mouth shut, giving Cas a surprised look. The angel moved his right hand up, resting against Dean’s cheek, and the hunter almost pulled away, feeling like he didn’t deserve any of this, didn’t for a second deserve the tenderness of that touch, the comfort the angel was giving him, and especially not the way Cas was looking at him right now, not after what he’d done.

“Dean,” Cas’ voice lowered into a whisper, his eyes pleading, “Do not, ever, dare to blame yourself for any of this. I accepted the mission of rescuing you in Hell knowing full well what would happen, and it was the best thing I could have done in my entire existence. I do not regret it, just as I don’t regret rebelling and Falling later on, turning against Heaven to save the world, or anything else that came after it, anything else I did for you. If I had a chance to change anything, anything at all, I wouldn’t. I would do it all for you, everything, all over again, without a single thought.”

Cas lowered his head, touching his forehead against Dean’s, and the human closed his eyes. The words were still there on his tongue, the guilt that still filled his insides, the heavy rock still sitting in his stomach, but he held it all in, because he had a feeling Cas wouldn’t accept anything he said right now.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dean kept his eyes closed, feeling Cas lean in and placing a short kiss to his lips.

“I’m pretty sure they’re badass,” he whispered, and when no response came, he opened his eyes to find Cas staring at him in confusion. “Your wings. I’m pretty sure they’re awesome.” Dean had only seen their shadows before, and only twice, but he could already tell they really were badass. And for some reason, them being black only added to that effect. He couldn’t see how that could be a bad thing; the black feathers he had were pretty awesome, and suddenly he liked them even more knowing they were Cas'. It also felt kind of nice to know that the very first feather he had found, the gray one back in the barn, had also probably been Cas'.

Cas smiled, just a tiny little thing that already made Dean feel infinitely better. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me if you still think that when you see them.”

“Wait, what?” Dean leaned away so he could look at Cas’ face in a better angle, but it didn’t look like the angel was joking in any way. “You can show me? When you get them back?”

“I couldn’t before. Our wings exist in another plane, and to bring them forth to this one enough for a human to see them is very dangerous. As a manifestation of our Grace, humans cannot glance upon them without burning out their retinas.”

“So how could I see them?” Dean liked his eyes with their retinas working well, thank you very much.

“There are humans who can see our wings without harm, just as there some who can hear our true voices. I’ve told you my Grace will never harm you, Dean, as you are my mate. If I do get my wings back, I can only assume that you would be able to see them without any harm.”

Wow, that sounded pretty cool. Dean was actually excited about it, a smile instantly spilling into his lips. “I’m sure I’ll love them, Cas. And seriously… I don’t think black is a bad color at all. Honestly, I’m... I'm pretty excited to see them.”

The smile Cas gave him undid several knots in Dean’s stomach.

“No one has ever seen them before,” the angel admitted.

Dean frowned. “So you guys don’t… see each other’s wings?” He had just always assumed they did.

“No,” Cas shook his head lightly, “Our Grace is essentially energy, and just like everything else in this universe, each Grace has its own natural frequency. Only our mates and fledgings can access that frequency freely. Other angels can only see our wings if we allow it.”

Alright, that sort of made sense, Dean supposed, although he had always thought angels could see each other’s wings at all times. He didn’t know why, though, it was just a thing he'd never really thought about. That notion had just always been there, in his head, and he’d never really questioned it.

“Will…” Dean swallowed, a curious thought occurring to him just then. He hadn’t even thought about this stuff before, but Cas mentioning fledgings just then seemed to have guided his thoughts in a different direction, “Do nephilims have wings too?”

Cas paused then, and he seemed to think the question through for a moment. "I'm unsure," he answered finally, "We were never told much on the Nephilim, as you might imagine, and the lore does diverge a lot on this subject. I could not see any wings on the nephilim I..." The angel stopped once more, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly, "The nephilim I killed for Metatron, but that does not mean anything. If she indeed had wings, they should have existed in another plane, one I had no means to access."

"So that's a maybe," Dean concluded.

Cas nodded lightly in response. "We could ask Gabriel, if you'd like. He should know."

"If..." Dean swallowed again, "If our baby has wings, I would be able to see them too, right?"

Cas smiled softly at him, "I would imagine so."

Dean nodded lightly as he laid his head back down onto Cas’ shoulder, a smile still lingering on his lips. Cas shifted, lifting his arm to play with Dean's hair once more, caressing his head and carding his fingers through the sandy-brown short strands. Dean sighed at the feeling of it, thinking about how he was sure he would never get tired of this and letting the sound of Cas’ steady heartbeat slowly lull him to sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

On the morning Cas and Charle were supposed to leave for their road trip, Dean woke up before Cas, but not because he'd planned to.

No, because morning sickness was still a thing and it had apparently decided to make sure Dean was aware of it.

So Dean pretty much leaped from the bed, stumbling out of the bedroom in the dark and making a run for the bathroom. He had a brief moment of relief for once more not running into either Charlie or Sam on the way, because while he _was_ wearing boxers it would still be hard to explain this, before he was inside the bathroom kneeling before the toilet.

He panted over the porcelain for a while after it was over, his stomach feeling uneasy still, so he just stayed there, waiting, unsure if there was going to be another wave of nausea or not.

There was.

Oh, sweet, sweet joy.

Dean was pretty sure he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing to his side, but he was too busy emptying his stomach to look up, so he could only hope it was Cas. He couldn’t tell if it was or not through the bond, because the bedroom was just across the hallway and Dean couldn’t really tell the difference through the bond with such a small distance; all the bond told him was that Cas was nearby. Or at least he just didn't know how to tell the difference.

The soothing hand resting on his back a moment later was answer enough.

When the second wave was done Dean leaned back, sitting down onto the floor and resting his back on the wall. He kept his eyes closed shut, feeling that if he kept them open, his nausea would just get worse. He felt Cas’ hand sliding over to his shoulder and then to the back of his head, caressing his scalp and running his fingers through his short hair, and Dean concentrated on the feeling of it instead, letting it ground him.

The nausea was gone quickly after that, fortunately, so soon enough Dean was flushing the toilet and filling his mouth with water from the sink, spitting it out and then repeating the process, trying to get rid of the taste of vomit that seemed very insistent on clinging to the inside of his mouth.

Dean cleared his throat, leaning over the sink. “What time is it?”

“Some time after six,” Cas replied calmly from his spot beside Dean.

Oh, awesome, because sure, Dean had really wanted to wake up before seven, of course he had.

Shaking his head, he considered going back to sleep for only a moment before changing his mind. Charlie had mentioned wanting to leave early today, and Dean might as well stay up until then. It just didn’t seem worth it going back to sleep now.

Also, he could get some breakfast going for everyone too, now that he was awake and all.

“You’re tired,” Cas stated, tilting his head to the side, those blue eyes glued to Dean’s face in that ‘looking into your soul’ kind of stare he managed to do so well. “You should go back to sleep, Dean.”

Dean shook his head in response. “Nah, I’m good, Cas. Just… hadn’t planned to wake up this early, but now that I’m up, might as well do something productive. You and Charlie are going on a road trip today, so I might as well make some breakfast.”

“Dean…”

“It’s okay, Cas, seriously.” Dean smiled at Cas, leaning in to plant a short kiss to the angel’s lips. He knew exactly what Cas wanted to say—that he should rest, that he needed sleep, that he wasn’t just sleeping for himself now—but he knew he could get through one night of less than eight hours of sleep just fine. “Come on. I’ll make pancakes.”

Cas still didn’t seem happy with Dean not sleeping more, but there was a clear glint in his eyes at the mention of pancakes.

As it turned out, they didn’t have enough ingredients to make pancakes, so Dean insisted on going to town for a quick supply run. It actually took a while to convince Cas to let him go with him, but Dean hadn’t left the Bunker in quite a while, he really wanted to get some air, and honestly, what harm could a quick trip to Lebanon do? It wasn’t like he could just stay locked up in the Bunker forever, too. He knew that Cas was worried about Heaven sensing the nephilim, he was too, but they were supposed to have a few more weeks, right?

Cas didn’t seem so confident, but his resolve started to fade as Dean pointed that out. The angel didn’t seem too happy about it, but Dean won in the end, and after a mug of coffee for each of them, they went back to the bedroom to get ready, where they both fetched a pair of clean underwear before they headed for the shower room.

They did actually shower this time, only getting a little bit handsy under the water spray, which was to be expected, considering they were both too tired to do much more than that, having slept no more than six hours each.

After the shower, they both decided to shave. Dean already had a little too much stubble going on, while Cas didn't have much, but the angel didn't like to let it grow too much apparently. Cas had always stopped the hair on his face from growing while he had been at full power, but now that would be yet another thing he shouldn't waste his Grace on, so he had to resort to the human way and shave it manually. Dean had actually been a little surprised to find out Cas already knew how to shave, but then looked stupid a second after voicing his surprise because of course Cas had had to learn how to do it when he had been human.

Dean's heart clenched painfully inside his chest at the thought of Cas having to teach himself how to do it. Dean had made a lot of ugly mistakes over the years when it came to Cas, which all only added to the almost constant feeling he had in his gut that he didn't deserve the angel, didn't deserve any of this at all, and kicking Cas out of the Bunker when the angel had been human and with nowhere else to go was definitely on the top of that list.

"Dean?"

Only then realizing that he was pretty much just staring at himself in the mirror, his razors frozen in his hand as it rested on the sink, Dean turned his head to find Cas staring at him worriedly. Silently, Dean hoped that the angel hadn't been able to pick up on what exactly he had been thinking just then. "Yeah?" His voice broke in the middle of it, and he cleared his throat.

"What's worrying you?"

Okay, so Cas didn't know. Good. Slowly, Dean shook his head, "It's nothing, Cas. Just..." He swallowed, letting out a breath as he looked down at his razors, "Something I hope to make right someday."

This wasn't the time to talk about this, so Dean brought his razors up to his face again and continued to work. He saw Cas hesitate to do the same by his side, just watching Dean in silence for very close to a minute as the angel either wondered if he should insist on the subject or just hoped that Dean might open up on his own.

Neither of those happened, and eventually Cas seemed to give up, lifting his own razors back up to his face in silence beside Dean.

When they were done in the bathroom, they went back to Dean's bedroom to change, and soon enough Cas was fully clothed, wearing his usual suit and trench coat (plus new tie) look, because once more, there was just no way he would leave this place wearing something other than his trench coat.

Dean, on the other hand, was looking around for his red flannel, walking around the room wearing nothing more than his boots and a pair of jeans, but naked from the waist up as he looked inside his duffel. Had he put it in the closet? He couldn’t remember it, and he had been sure he had last seen it in his bag.

He walked over to the closet, pulling open the door, but paused as soon as he caught sight of his reflection on the door, staring back at him from his mirror.

Instantly his mind went back to three nights ago, when Cas had laid his hand over his stomach, as he had been doing pretty often lately. Dean did it sometimes, too, but there was always hesitance when he did it. Sometimes it still felt like too much for him. For Cas it seemed like it didn’t, though, because the angel really seemed to be making an habit of falling asleep with his hand resting there.

He lifted his hand slowly, almost fearful, and rested it over his stomach. He pressed lightly against the skin, but there was no resistance to the pressure, no hardness, nothing other than the normal feeling of the muscles under his palm. How long would it take for that to change, though? How long before it was actually possible to tell he was pregnant just by _looking_ at his stomach? How long until he started…

“You won’t start showing for a few months, Dean.”

Dean jumped at the sound of Cas’ voice so close to him. The angel was standing just behind him, and Dean had honestly not even realized he was there until then, hadn’t even noticed him moving closer at all.

Swallowing, Dean looked back at the mirror, realizing his hand was still resting on his stomach. He didn’t move it, though. “How many months?” He honestly had no idea. Until a few weeks ago, he had just figured he’d never have to worry about this stuff, because it wasn’t like he’d ever planned on having a kid, not with the life he had, let alone that he would be the one carrying it. So he was pretty much an ignorant when it came to pregnancies. He'd always been extra careful about his one night stands, so it had never even occurred to him that this might happen to him by accident someday, not even with a random chick, and especially not to _him_  literally. 

This was being ‘learn as you go’ process to him every day.

“A pregnant human female normally starts showing sometime between 12 and 16 weeks, so assuming you will follow the pattern, I would expect you to start showing from 16 to 22 weeks.”

So, 4 to 5.5 months, then? And he was what, one month and a half along? That gave him at least two and half months until he might start showing, so that was pretty much his deadline to telling Sam about this.

If he was right about the dates, though, because honestly, he wasn’t sure about them. He _really_ should start counting the weeks or something, shouldn’t he?

“I just… forget sometimes, you know? I mean, I don't actually forget, but it just… vanishes from my mind, I guess. But when I remember, it still feels…” Overwhelming? Terrifying? Dean wasn’t sure which one was the best way to describe this, but he knew all of them were pretty accurate.

Cas didn’t respond. He closed the distance between them, resting his hands on each side of Dean’s hips, the heat from his body seeping through Dean as the angel pressed his chest flush to the hunter’s back. Dean let out a breath at the feeling of Cas’ lips on the spot where his neck met his shoulder, shivering a little and closing his eyes.

“I know,” he heard Cas whisper against his skin in between kisses, and while it did not exactly make him feel better, it calmed him a little.

Before the situation could get out of hand—little Dean was already starting to perk up in interest—Dean looked into his closet and yep, there was his red flannel. So he put a black undershirt on before the shirt, and then they were off.

After a quick drive in the Impala, they were walking through the aisles of the local mini-market they usually went to, looking for the ingredients for a much bigger breakfast than Dean had originally planned.

It would be their last meal together in weeks, probably, and he just thought it would be good for him to cook up something nice. He had no idea what Charlie and Cas would eat out there on the road, so at least they’d leave with a home-cooked meal sitting in their stomachs.

So of course they left the store with way too many bags, which Cas insisted vehemently he could carry on his own when it was clearly too much for him. Dean had just rolled his eyes and grabbed four bags anyway, truthfully a little annoyed at just how overprotective Cas seemed to be getting.

Again, he was pregnant, not freaking incapable of doing anything by himself. He wasn't invalid or something.

Sam and Charlie weren’t awake when they got back, but that wasn’t exactly surprising—it was just after 8 in the freaking morning. Dean got to work anyway while Cas sipped on his second mug of coffee, watching Dean work around the kitchen with attentive, curious eyes.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Cas to get too curious and impatient enough to start walking around the kitchen, trying to taste everything Dean was cooking. Dean didn’t let him at first, but then Cas broke out the wounded puppy eyes as always and Dean just broke, because damn it, those baby blues were really his kryptonite.

The pancakes with maple syrup sliding from the top, waffles, frieds eggs with side bacon and French toast were all ready to go soon enough, plus a few sliced fruits Cas had insisted Dean ate and a jar of freshly made orange juice.

Dean was pretty proud of himself, he had to admit it.

“Should we wait for Sam and Charlie?” Cas’ eyes danced over the food like he had just stumbled upon a freaking goldmine or something, and Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Nah,” Dean shrugged, sitting down onto the table, “They’ll be fine.” And he was really freaking hungry.

Dean ate carefully, mindful of the fact that his nausea seemed pretty bad today, afraid that he might trigger it again. So he ate slowly, and not too much, smiling through the small bites of his pancake he slowly put in his mouth as he watched Cas happily eat a generous portion of everything on the table. He had known Cas would like waffles.

After a few minutes Cas produced something from the inside of his coat, and Dean actually chuckled when he caught sight of the small colorful little box the angel was offering him. He had been planning to take his vitamins later on when they came back to their room, but Cas seemed to take the whole ‘take with a meal’ thing a little too literally.

He took a small tablet nonetheless, and Cas quickly tucked the box back into his coat, hiding it from sight before someone walked through the doorway, because pregnancy vitamins would really be a tough one to explain.

Sam and Charlie did join them eventually, and they were clearly pretty surprised with what they found waiting for them in the kitchen, but seemed very excited about all the food on the table and were happy to dive in as soon as they were seated. And for the hour that followed, Dean felt unusually happy. It just felt so good to look around the table and see the three people he cared for the most in this world, his _family,_ happily chatting and laughing while they ate the breakfast he’d made.

As that thought crossed his mind, Dean couldn't help but remember his conversation with Cas earlier that same morning, back in the bedroom, about when Dean would start showing, and he felt his hand twitching a little, but he resisted the urge to rest it on his stomach out of paranoia that maybe Sam or Charlie could see it somehow. Instead, under the table, he reached for Cas’ hand, squeezing it and feeling the angel squeeze back, like a silent, unspoken conversation that meant much more than words could say right then.

The spell was broken eventually, of course. Cas and Charlie had to leave soon, and it was before eleven in the morning when they were already loading up Charlie’s yellow little coupe with Cas’ duffel and Charlie’s bags. Dean watched the scene with a sick feeling in his stomach, but fortunately his breakfast did not make another appearance. It felt like it wanted to, though.

“You got everything you need?” Dean asked Cas as the pair stood a few steps away from where Sam and Charlie were, still talking and discussing route options to follow through the list of towns quicker.

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes, Dean.” He sounded a little annoyed with a hint of amusement, but maybe that was just because this was the fifth time Dean had asked him that very question in the last hour or so.

“Well… You call me, from time to time, alright? And texting is fine, too. I mean, I know you like it and all.”

Cas smiled lightly, “Of course. And you,” Cas took a step forward, lowering his voice even more as he rested his forehead against Dean’s, “You warn me if anything happens, _anything_ at all.” Cas’ eyes darted down for merely a second, but Dean didn’t need that gesture to know exactly what Cas was talking about.

Dean nodded.

“Also,” Cas was still keeping his voice very low, “I… left Gabriel’s talisman in your nightstand, if you decide to put it on.”

“Cas…”

“I know, Dean,” Cas cut him off before he could say anything, his voice soft, and Dean closed his mouth before letting another word out, a low sigh escaping his lips. “Just… know that it’s there, okay?”

Dean let out a another breath, heavier this time, but forced himself to nod. He still had no plans of putting that damn thing on any time soon, but Cas seemed adamant, and the hunter knew arguing about this here wouldn’t do them any good, especially not with an audience just a few steps away. Also, it wasn’t like Cas was asking him to put it on, the angel was just making sure Dean knew where it was in case he decided to wear it.

Dean shifted his eyes to Sam and Charlie, checking to see that they were still focused on their own conversation, before looking back at Cas. He had been doing his best not to do anything couple-like with Cas in front of those two, afraid to make things awkward somehow, but Cas was leaving now and Dean had no idea how long they would stay apart, and he wasn't going to say goodbye to Cas without a kiss. So he swallowed his nerves, just thought, ‘screw it,’ before he could really think about this and leaned in.

He had meant it to be just a quick peck, but before he could really process what was happening there were tongues involved, and while he wasn’t sure who had deepened the kiss first, Dean definitely wasn’t complaining. No, he just tilted his head to the side and let out a sigh through his nose, letting Cas ravish his mouth with his tongue, insistent and urgent, and with only that Dean knew Cas was thinking the exact same thing he was—this was the last time they’d see each other in _weeks_ , maybe months, and they hadn’t been apart since Dean had found Cas in Absarokee. Sure, that had been what, three weeks ago? Maybe even less? But while it felt like so much more, with everything they’d gone through since then, at the same time it still felt like too little, and the thought that Cas would be out there for an indeterminate amount of time was very, very unsettling.

The sound of a throat clearing a few steps away from them made Dean's mind come to a halt, and suddenly remembered that they had an audience. Dean and Cas pulled away abruptly, panting, and Dean closed his eyes for a moment because honestly, he had forgotten Sam and Charlie had been there at all.

Turning his head to the side, he finally caught sight of the two.

Charlie was clearly fighting a smile, biting her lips to keep her grin from spreading too much. When Dean met her eyes, though, she looked away, but the corners of her lips were still rising slightly.

Sam, on the other hand, looked pretty uncomfortable, scratching the back of his head and looking pretty much anywhere but at Dean and Cas, looking like he had no idea what to do with himself. Apparently this had been just a little too much for him.

Dean could feel his face and neck burning hot, because he really hadn’t meant to get so carried away like that. But with Cas, that just seemed to be very likely to happen, and very easy too, as he had been learning during these past few weeks.

“So, uh…” Dean cleared his throat. “You guys… all set?”

Charlie laughed, and Sam just shook his head, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and that was enough to make Dean’s uneasiness melt away.

***~*~*~*~***

The first night without Cas was the hardest.

Dean had had no idea he would get used to sleeping with Cas by so fast, but apparently he had, because falling asleep alone had turned into a very, very hard task for him. He missed the warmth, the presence of Cas by his side, the calming buzzing of the soul bond between them, and he would wake up every few hours feeling cold and alone. The bed was just so fucking empty and he hated every second of it, the soul bond feeling numb and weak between them because of the distance, a lot worse than what happened when Cas just left to go to Lebanon and buy food, almost as it had been back in Absarokee when Dean had gone into town and Cas had stayed back at the cabin. There had been wards around the cabin back then, though, and Dean assumed that was why now he still felt this weak, barely there buzzing, but that was all he could sense now. It seemed they were just too far away, so much that it felt very similar to what had happened in Montana. Dean would toss and turn over countless time on the nest on his bed (which he for some reason couldn’t find it in himself to tear apart just yet) because of it for way too long until he eventually managed to fall back asleep, only to wake up again soon enough.

Honestly, it was almost pitiful.

By the third night, when Dean was about to take the clothes in the bedroom hamper down to the washing room, where the big, industrial washing machines could take care of them, he found two of Cas’ sleeping shirts in there. He took them out of the hamper and laid them on the bed along with his own clothes, leaving them there and taking the rest of the clothes to the washing room.

That night, he curled up to the shirts, breathing in Cas’ scent a few times as he laid in bed. He slept better that night, so he decided to keep the shirts there until he could sleep without them.

On the fourth day, already starting to feel a little claustrophobic inside the Bunker, feeling the need to go out and get some air, Dean went into town to buy a few things. Before he got to the mini-market, though, he somehow found himself wandering into some small bookstore he had never even noticed before. There had been this nagging feeling in the back of his mind once his eyes had found it and he just… wanted to see something inside, just out of pure curiosity.

Dean just walked around a little bit once he was inside the store, just looking around and not actually looking for anything, not truly paying attention to the titles that passed right before his eyes, until he came across the isles with the pregnancy books. He just stood there for a while then, eyeing the various covers and not really sure what to do with himself. He knew he could read about all of this online or whatever, but for some reason a book just felt a little more trustworthy in his head, maybe because he just felt more comfortable with a physical copy that he could actually hold in his hand. Also, he didn’t want to take the risk of Sammy going through the history of his laptop for some reason and coming across something he shouldn't see. Yeah, sure, Sam rarely ever used his laptop and Dean could delete the history, he was aware of that, but what if Sam knew how to undo that or something? He would feel safer if he could read something Sam couldn’t find by pressing a few buttons, so an actual book would be perfect.

There were just so many options on the shelf, though, and Dean really had no idea what he was doing there, so of course he spent minute after minute just reading over the titles and the texts in the back with no freaking idea what to do.

It was just... Well, he wasn’t Cas. The angel just seemed to know everything about this, like a walking encyclopedia or something. And yeah, of course that made sense, because he’d been around for billions of years and all that, so of course he knew how pregnancy worked.

But Dean? He had no freaking clue about anything, and he was a little scared of it now that Cas wasn’t by his side every second of every day. He wasn’t sure about anything anymore, and he was sticking to eating the vitamins and foods he had been eating up until now, not daring to get adventurous.

And it wasn’t like he could go to a freaking doctor for this. Because _that_ would go  _so well_.

“Do you need help, sir?”

Dean spun around, startled, and found himself staring down at a young, short blonde who clearly worked at the store, judging by her clothes and nametag, and had apparently taken pity on the poor guy staring at a bunch of pregnancy books like they might eat him alive.

“Uh…” He turned to glance at the books once more, before smiling at the girl a little sheepishly, “I just… I’m not really sure what I’m doing, to be honest.”

The girl—Laura, her nametag read—smiled politely at him, not an entirely amused smile, but more calming, soothing. Dean wondered if she was used to this by now, if he wasn’t the first guy she’d come to rescue from this very session before. He could only guess this wasn't a first for her. “Trust me, you’re not the only one. Father for the first time, I assume?”

Dean chuckled, remembering the cashier from the drugstore a few weeks ago, how he was pretty sure she had thought he had been buying the pregnancy tests for his wife or something. This would probably be the case here too, and once more he made a mental note about how he should probably not wave his hand around too much, or else she might notice the lack of a ring on his finger.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled at her, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, feeling a little awkward and uncomfortable all of a sudden, “And I don’t even know what I’m looking for here.”

Laura nodded, “Well, let's start slow. How far along is she?”

Well, _he_ was almost two months along, right? Or was it less? Oh, damn it, he really should have done the math before coming here, shouldn't he?

The girl was still waiting, so he decided to just guess a low number and pray it was close enough to his own situation. “A little over a month,” he decided.

Laura nodded in acceptance, “Okay, so pretty early, huh?” Dean nodded in response, and then watched as she turned to the shelves, “Well, if you’re looking for just early stages, symptoms and how to deal with everything, this one is our best seller,” She held up a relatively thick pink and blue book and handed it to Dean, “If not, well, we have…”

And for the next whole hour, Dean listened to everything Laura said, and she explained which parts of the pregnancy each books covered, which ones got the best comments and ratings in general, and also which ones he should stray away from.

So of course Dean left that store with four freaking books. And also a small 2015 calendar so he could finally start counting the weeks and marking them somewhere to keep track. He would have bought one for 2016 too, because he knew the very end of the pregnancy would stretch on to next year's January, but they didn’t have them this early in the previous year.

He also made a stop at the mini-market, just so Sam wouldn't grow suspicious of him. His excuse to leave the Bunker had been that he would be going to Lebanon to buy food, after all. It would be weird for him to go back home without anything of the sort.

So back in the Bunker, Dean went straight to the kitchen to rid his arms of the groceries, putting everything that needed refrigeration in the fridge and leaving the rest there so he could deal with it later. He then headed to his room, saying a quick hey to Sam on his way through the library. Sam didn't even look up from his book as he responded Dean's greeting with a hey of his own, so he didn’t even seem to notice the two bags Dean was still carrying around.

Good.

Once inside the safety of his room, Dean sat down onto the bed, taking everything out of the bags before piling the books over the mattress and picking up the calendar. He fetched a red marker from inside the drawer in his nightstand and pulled up the calculator on his phone.

One of the books said that the count should begin before the night of conception, in the beginning of the woman’s menstrual cycle, or 14 days before if the woman wasn't sure about the first day of her last period. But he wasn’t a woman, and both Cas and Gabriel seemed to have started the counting from the night in Omaha, so Dean was going with that.

So, he and Cas had slept together on January 28th in Omaha, a Wednesday. He had that date ingrained in his mind by now, because for weeks it had haunted him, during the countless days he’d had no idea where Cas even was, or why he had just walked away.

So every Wednesday would add a full week to his counter. He circled the 28th on his calendar, and then started adding numbers to the weeks, marking every Wednesday with a small red number until he reached the last one on the 2015 calendar, which was December 30th and received a small red 48 in its tiny square.

Again, he knew he could make this on a computer or even his phone, but he preferred the physical thing. It felt safer somehow.

Okay, so it was March 19th right now, a Thursday, which meant that he had completed his seventh week yesterday, and today was the first day of his eighth week. But according to Gabriel, the pregnancy wouldn’t last nine months, it would last twelve, so 52 weeks instead of 40.

So assuming everything would happen in some sort of a proportional way compared to a normal pregnancy, since Cas had said there should be little error if he thought that way, then he could just divide 52 by 40, which gave him 1.3. He also divided 1 by 7, which told him that a day was just a little less than 14.3% of the full week. So now he could just divide his 7.143 weeks by 1.3, which gave him something very close to 5.5.

And that meant that technically, he should be somewhere around where a pregnant woman would be in the middle of her fifth week.

Okay, that was easy enough.

So, according to his book, he should be in a stage called embryogenesis, which meant that right now, the nephilim was called an embryo and was in the process of creating its first cells, which kept dividing themselves over and over again to create the first few traces of a few organs and systems by a bunch of other processes. There were way too many technical terms flying around the pages, though, like morula, blastula and gastrula, and Dean knew he would forget them all as soon as he put the book down, but he kept reading anyway.

The book also mentioned that any consumption of alcohol in this stage was terribly dangerous, because it could cause the process of cell duplication to come out wrong, and since cellular duplication was all it was doing, the problematic cells would create more and more sick cells, rising the risks of fetal malformation, early labor and miscarriage by a lot.

He really, _really_ owed Gabriel one.

By what he gathered, he should be in a part of embryogenesis the book called 'Somitogenesis', where little parts of the embryo, which the book referred to as 'somites', were being formed in a generic way so that later on they could become something else, like vertebrae or skeleton muscles.

There was an image in the book of what the embryo should look like around five weeks. It didn’t look like a baby per se, but Dean could see it—it had a little head, with dark little spots where the eyes were supposed to be, the beginning of the arms and legs, just tiny little things by the sides of it. There was even a little chubbier part by the chest, and it had this tiny little tail that was just adorable. The picture didn’t have anything on its back, though, but Dean once more wondered if his had, if it had tiny little beginning of wings too. Cas had said maybe, but Dean just felt like it did.

And then he remembered the tiny little ball of light Cas had shown him, the little bright blob he had seen in his mind, the shiny beginning of the baby's soul.

That tiny little thing was _inside_ of him _right now._

“Fuck.”

Letting his head fall onto his hands, Dean let out a few breaths. He hadn’t really thought about, well, the _embryo_ until now, and seeing the image, how it already looked like right now, knowing that it even had a tiny little  _soul_ already, the very beginning of an actual _baby…_

He had meant it, what he’d said to Cas—sometimes he just kind of forgot somehow. And sure, he knew he was pregnant, but a part of him just didn’t think about what the fact that there was an actual baby growing inside of him, a life, a living being that was half-him and half-Cas. It was still overwhelming, even three weeks after first finding out about it.

Somehow one of his hands found its way to his stomach, and he pressed against it lightly, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.

“Don’t worry, little buddy,” He whispered, hearing his voice wavering with every word, “We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll be fine. I promise you. You’ll be fine.”

Dean hoped with everything he had that he would be able to keep that promise.

After that day, he’d grown the habit of reading a few pages from the pregnancy books whenever he wasn’t burying himself in research on the Mark, which, of course, had brought him no results at all. He’d worked out a system of researching the Mark during the day and picking up the pregnancy books at night, when Sam was already sleeping, just in fear that his brother might catch him with the wrong book in his hand.

And like that, the days passed, pretty much in the same way, the same pattern. The routine Dean and Sam had going on was pretty similar to what they'd had before, but the Bunker just felt different without Cas and Charlie there, too quiet and empty.

Dean kind of hated it.

The only things that cheered him up were the way too rare movie nights he and Sam still had and Cas’ calls and texts. The angel would call at least twice a day and text Dean at the time of every meal to make sure he was eating right, which often had Dean rolling his eyes a little in annoyance, but it still made him feel a little warm, deep down.

Dean would also often ask Cas about something concerning the pregnancy, like how he'd noticed that he was peeing a little more than usual; not too much, but definitely more. According to both the angel and his books, it was actually a normal thing, even so early. Something about elevated filtration and vascular volume or... something. It would also get worse as his 'uterus explanded', so he would just have to get used to it. He just hoped Sam wouldn't notice it.

Also, there were days when his chest felt weird for some reason, like it was tender to the touch. It kurt of hurt if he pressed it, which was way too weird, and he’d rather not ask Cas about that one, because honestly, he was pretty sure the answer would freak him out.

Dean refrained from telling Cas that he'd had to sort of take the angel's nest apart, though, preferring to do it in person when the angel came back. He'd had to wash the clothes eventually, and there were just too many things on his bed. It felt weird to sleep alone on it, without Cas. Not to mention that Dean had no idea how he would explain any of it to Sam were his brother to accidentally see the pile of pillows and blankets on his bed. He'd stashed the extra pillows and blankets inside the closet of the room beside his, since they didn't fit in his own, just to make it easier for Cas if the angel wanted them again someday.

That wasn’t all he and Cas talked about, though. They talked about random things, too, usually that had to do with things Cas saw during his trip with Charlie or things Charlie did that confused him.

Like, for example, LARPing.

_“I do not understand the premise, Dean.”_

Dean chuckled into the phone as he made his way through the Bunker hallways, headed for the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Sam was nowhere in sight, probably holed up in his room reading a book or something.

“There’s really no premise, Cas. It’s like, role playing, but live. You pretend to have another life and all that, like a theater, but without scripts.”

_“Why?”_

Dean shrugged, even though Cas couldn’t see him. “It’s kind of fun.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn’t anywhere near him, because seriously, that moose would never let him live it down if he heard Dean say he thought LARPing was fun.

_“Charlie mentioned you and Sam have participated once, and she for some reason insisted on calling you her handmaiden.”_

Dean huffed, shaking his head as he open the fridge door. Of course that was what Charlie had said. He decided it was best to ignore the comment, though. “Sam and I worked a case and ended up joining the LARPing thing during the job. There was a guy using actual magic to win the game.”

Of course, Dean conveniently chose to let out the part about how much he'd actually enjoyed the whole LARPing thing, or how he and Sam had spent an entire day there after the case had been done.

Nope, that just wasn't relevant at all.

Yeah.

They continued talking for a few minutes while Dean worked through the motions of heating up some food for himself. When he told Cas of that fact, of course, the angel went into overprotective mode.

_“Have you taken your vitamins today?”_

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, Cas, as soon as I ate breakfast.” Dean looked up when he caught sight of Sam walking into the kitchen, who nodded at him and walked over to the fridge, not speaking when he realized Dean was on the phone.

_“And have you been eating healthily?”_

“Yeah, Cas, I have. Want me to send you a picture of my super healthy lunch?”

Sam chuckled, and Dean glared at him a little as he carried his plate over to the table. It was actually healthy—some white rice, cooked chicken breast, some corn, lettuce and sliced tomatoes.

_“No, I believe you, Dean.”_ Because of course Cas hadn’t realized that had been a joke, but okay.  _“I will leave you to your meal now. Charlie and I got to Georgia yesterday. We spent the night in Alpharetta, but there was nothing here, so now we're heading to Savannah.”_

“Call me when you get there.” Dean made sure not to look at Sam as he said it.

_“I will.”_

Dean hung up, and focused on his food, still avoiding to look up at Sam, who was in the process of heating up his own lunch.

But of course Sam was going to say something.

“So…” He began as he sat down across from Dean on the table, and when Dean looked up he noticed his brother was grinning at him, “Cas making sure you eat healthy, huh?”

Dean huffed, but felt his face heating up a little as he looked down at his food, stabbing his chicken with his fork and knife. “Yeah, yeah,” he tried to dismiss the topic.

“I think it’s kinda sweet, Dean. I mean…” Dean looked back up just in time to see Sam shrug, “Seriously, I’ve never seen you like this. You really are happy. Cas has been good for you.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile, feeling his face heat up even more. They hadn't talked about this at all again since that first night, and while he already knew that Sam was okay with him and Cas, it just felt good to hear it again, made him feel lighter somehow. “Thanks, Sammy.” He looked back down before Sam would say anything else, focusing back on his food and deciding to let the subject die there, because while it felt good to hear that from Sam, Dean really didn’t want to talk about this with his brother. It still felt kind of weird. Also, it was a little bit of a risky subject, considering Sam still didn't know everything.

They ate in silence for a while, until Sam broke it a few minutes later.

“So, I…” Dean looked back up, noticing Sam picking up his tablet, which he had abandoned onto the table once he had started working on his food. Dean now realized he might have brought the thing here with him for a reason. “I found a case.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment, instead watching in silence as Sam moved his fingers over the touch screen for a moment until he turned the devide around for Dean to see the screen.

**‘Iowa teen claims possessed truck kills driver,’** the headline of a news article was showing read.

It seemed like a case alright.

“Well, good luck with it,” Dean shrugged, before looking back down at his food.

“Dean…”

Dean looked back up, and frowned at the look in his brother’s face. “What?”

“You haven’t left the Bunker in over a week,” Sam stated.

Oh.

_Oh._

Dean shook his head, maybe a little too frantically, but honestly, he had been caught by surprise. He should have seen this coming, he really should have. Sam wouldn’t just stop hunting, and of course he would want Dean to go with him when he eventually found a job. But Dean couldn’t go. Gabriel and Cas had both made it clear that Dean shouldn’t be hunting.

He couldn’t take the risk.

The problem, however, was that he had no excuse to give, hadn't been able to come up with anything until now.

“Sam, I can’t. I…” _I’m pregnant,_ the words were there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t let them out. So all he ended saying was, “I just _can’t._ ”

Sam shook his head, “Dean, you can’t just hole up in the Bunker forever. This isn’t good for you. You need to get out, do something. A hunt will be good for you.”

“Sammy, you don’t get it,” But he needed Sam to _get it_ , “I really can’t.”

Sam let out a sigh, glancing briefly down at Dean’s arm, because that was what Sam thought was the reason for this, of course it was. Sam thought Dean was scared of the Mark, of losing control because of it, of making it worse, and sure, that was also true, but it wasn’t all, and Dean couldn’t find it in himself to _tell him_  the real reason right now.

“Dean, I know you’re worried about the Mark, I am too. But…” Another shrug, this one weaker, and it was just then that Dean realized just how _tired_ Sam looked. Had he been sleeping at all? “You need this, Dean, and so do I. And… if you’re really that worried, then you can just stay out of the fight or something, if there even is one, because honestly, this is looking just like a salt and burn kind of thing. So just… come along, at least. Get some air. It'll do us both good.”

Dean paused, dropping his knife so he could rub a hand over his face, closing his eyes and letting out heavy, strained sigh. He had no way to argue with that, not without opening up, he knew that, and honestly, he might be panicking a little. He couldn't think of an excuse, of anything Sam could actually believe, and his brother was just _there_ , waiting for a response, so soon enough Dean had no other choice but to actually consider this hunt.

Okay, he just had to think about this. Yeah, sure, he had been feeling a little claustrophobic just staying in this Bunker like this, and maybe some fresh air would actually do him some good. And okay, the case did sound like a salt and burn, didn’t it? He could just go along if it was, too, and not get into any fight, if there even was one.

And he had worked a case after Omaha, a nest of vamps no less, and he had been fine. So maybe it would be fine; he wouldn’t hurt his little embryo.

Of course, he couldn’t tell Cas. No, the angel would be freaking livid if he found out, and Dean could only imagine the lecture he would be signing up for if Cas learned about this somehow.

Letting out a sigh, Dean looked back up at Sam, who was looking at him with those damn puppy dog eyes. “Fine,” he gave in, “But if I tell you I feel I can’t do something, Sam, I mean it, I…”

“Yeah, of course, Dean.” Sam nodded a little to frantically, sounding pretty relieved that Dean had agreed.

They ate in silence after that, and Dean finished first, retreating to his room soon after Sam offered to take care of the dishes. Dean was thankful for it, because he really needed to lay down.

He laid onto his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he had just gotten himself into. He couldn’t get out of it now, not without Sam getting suspicious, but would it really be fine? Gabriel hadn’t told him that he couldn’t go hunting, just that he should take it easy and not get tossed around too much. It had been Cas who had told him he should not hunt at all.

And Cas had been a little overbearing during the past few weeks, overprotective even, so maybe there was no real harm in Dean going in a quick salt and burn. Yeah, he probably wouldn’t even have to fight, really.

No, it would be fine. He and Sam would just walk into town, ask around, figure out who was haunting what, probably the truck, and salt and burn their bones. Quick and easy, just like that. And they would be back to the Bunker in no time, too, so Cas wouldn’t need to know where they had been, or what they had been up to.

Apparently it ran in the family, Dean thought with a huff. The image of a young Mary Winchester entered his mind then, from the time he and Sam had traveled back in time to save their parents from Anna. He remembered his mother, how she had tried to take on an angel, actually putting up quite a fight, when she had known that she had been carrying Dean. And Dean had been born perfectly fine, so maybe it wasn't all that risky. And then again, Dean had no intention to fight at all, so he should be fine.

Still, there was this small, insistent voice in the back of his head that kept reminding him of how nothing seemed to work out the way he planned, and this uneasy feeling in his gut just refused to go away.

Dean just hoped he wouldn’t regret going on this hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Additional Tags: _Angelic Grace_ and _Angel Wings_.
> 
> Okay, so that turned out a lot longer than it should have. That first part in the Bunker? It was originally just a few paragraphs, not actual scenes, and the part with Sam and Cas didn't even exist at all. That entire first half was added throughout the past three weeks, because I felt like not having the actual scenes was just too rushed and I really wanted to write them, but that took some time. Hopefully it was worth it. :)
> 
> So, a case, huh? I wonder how that's going to turn out. I mean, what could go wrong, right?
> 
> The case Sam found is the same one from 10x13, "Halt & Catch Fire", by the way. ;)
> 
> I have no idea why I find nesting!Cas so adorable, but I do. :P Also, anyone excited for Cas' wings? ;D


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another pretty long chapter, over 26k this time. Hope you guys like it. ;)
> 
> I chose not to name the chapters in this story because I know that at some point I'm going to run out of names or have problems with it, but if I did name then, I would probably have called chapter 13 'The Calm Before the Storm', because starting in this one, well... let's just say that things are going to get serious pretty fast. ;)
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains dangerous behavior during pregnancy, and it gets very, _very_ heavy towards the end. It also contains spoilers from the episodes 10x13, "Halt  & Catch Fire", and 10x14, "The Executioner's Song".

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen _Harry Potter_!” Charlie looked completely shocked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as she turned her head to the side to glance at Castiel, who was sitting on the passenger seat of her car.

Her _moving_ car, as he would like to point out.

Castiel was confused. He could not understand the reason for such a state of distress and shock upon hearing the single fact that he had never watched a certain collection of movies that had been based on a series of books. Of course, he knew the entire franchise was extremely popular around the world, but the number of movie adaptations out there today was very high. Would her reaction be the same for every single one of them?

He was also very tempted to tell her that she should probably pay more attention to the road, considering that she was driving the vehicle they were both in at the moment, but he kept quiet on the matter. Maybe it would upset her even more, and he did not wish to take that risk.

“I know the general premise of the series,” Castiel replied calmly, hoping the simple statement would ease her mind somehow, because he could think of nothing else to say that might have a similar effect, “And I know some facts about the production of the movies. However, I have not truly watched them.”

That seemed to be the general idea of Metatron’s insertion to his mind. Because of it, he knew of several books, movies and TV series, knew the basic lines of their stories and a lot of trivia concerning their production. However, those facts were not accompanied by the images per se; it was not the same as it would be if he had in fact read said books or watched the movies and series. It was odd and a little disorienting, but at least now he understood references and could actually hold a conversation about the topics without much trouble.

“Dude, you should have said something during all those movie nights we had! You let Dean make us sit through _Die Hard_ when you don’t even know what Hogwarts looks like on screen? We have to fix that as soon as we get back to the Bunker. Seriously, this is an emergency, Cas.”

Castiel could only nod in agreement, finding it pointless to even attempt to argue or comment on the matter.

Charlie grew quiet after that, save from the occasional comment about various, seemingly unrelated subjects here and there, but other than those, the drive was quickly back to being as quiet and peaceful as it had been before. Surprisingly, the silences were not awkward at all between the two of them, as it often seemed to be the case whenever Castiel was involved, especially with people he did not know too well. However, nothing seemed to be awkward with Charlie; she was very pleasant to talk to, and there was just this odd, calming energy around her. Castiel had decided he liked her during their very first conversation, and now that he had actually met her he finally understood why Dean and Sam considered her to be like a younger sister. He could easily see why.

Castiel took the newest pause as an opportunity to look down at the device resting on his lap—a tablet, he believed it was called. Charlie had handed it to him after they'd left the motel room where they had spent the night in Savannah, but he had not looked at it since. He did not trust it too much, wasn't sure how to properly operate it, and while Charlie had shown him the basic commands, he wasn't all that thrilled to use it. He decided to do it now, though, looking for something to occupy his mind, and pressed the button below the screen, watching as it lip up and required the password to unlock it. Calmly, Castiel went through the procedures Charlie had shown him, and without much trouble he managed to open the file that contained the girl's list, going to the section with the names of the next few towns and states they planned on checking. Beside each name there was a quick description of what they should find in which place and the notes Charlie had added to the ones they had already visited. Along with those files, there were also images of maps containing the routes Charlie had worked out with Sam and Dean during the last couple of days they’d spent in the Bunker, choosing the quickest ways to visit as many towns as they could as quickly as possible, the lines and words marked in blue on the screen.

They had already been to three towns in a little over a week, and were headed to the fourth now.

However, there were still countless places to visit, and as they passed through every single one of them, Castiel’s hope of finding his Grace dimmed considerably. A feeling of uneasiness seemed to have permanently settled inside his chest, and it only got stronger with every result they checked off the list, the fear that this search might not be the way they would find his Grace ringing loudly in his ears, echoing constantly inside his head. The truth was that he was not confident at all in this plan, but he knew he had to keep going; that he could not simply give up on it. He could not allow himself to lose hope, not when the lives of Dean and his unborn child were hanging in the balance.

He shifted through the maps for a few minutes until he opened another text file that he did not quite recognize. He frowned as looked down at it, reading the words displayed on the screen for the very first time.

There were names of people in them, and not towns—Peter Harper, Barbara Cordry and Russell Wellington. There were other words written around the names, too, including several numbers and what appeared to be addresses, plus quite a few dates, most of them from 1997. The last name, Russell Wellington, was circled and highlighted a few times, and there was an address in Topeka, Kansas, written right below it.

“What is this?” Castiel asked, confused. He could not understand the relevance of this information to their current tasks. He had never heard those names before, and he did not know what all the codes and words written around the names could possibly mean.

Charlie threw one quick glance to the side, frowning a little, but her confusion vanished from her face and her eyes widened a little as she seemed to recognize the file Castiel was looking down at. She covered up her surprise quickly, though, turning her eyes back to the road and swallowing once before speaking.

“Oh, it’s…” She shrugged, shaking her head lightly, and while it was that clear she was attempting to sound uninterested, there was an edge to her voice, a hint of something that Castiel could not quiet ignore and had him frowning once more, because he was pretty sure he was reading her correctly, and what he was seeing right then was nervousness, he was certain of it. “It’s nothing, really. Just a few leads on the Book of the Damned that turned out to be dead ends, you know? Nothing important or helpful.”

Castiel eyed her for a moment. He knew she was lying instantly, though he chose not to point out that fact out loud. Charlie seemed like a genuinely good person, he knew she was, so he could not understand why she would feel the need to lie to him about this, or why she seemed so nervous that he had read this file.

He chose to be quiet about it, however. He barely knew her, and whatever it was that she seemed to be hiding, it was not his place to pry. He was curious, and honestly a little intrigued, but he knew he had no right to demand an explanation from her. He decided to question Dean and Sam about the matter once he had the chance; maybe they knew what this was about.

So he closed all the open files the way Charlie had showed him how to and pressed the button on top of the device to lock the screen, letting the tablet rest undisturbed onto his lap once more, deciding to instead focus on the passing scenery outside of his window, letting the sight of trees and nature calm him and his thoughts as silence took over the air around them once more.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean _really_ shouldn’t have agreed to come on this hunt.

Sam had been right—it had really seemed like just a quick salt and burn in the beginning. The first girl they had talked to, Janet, who had been with the guy that had died in the truck, had assured them that the navigation app, Trini or whatever the hell it was called, had talked to her, told her to get out of the car, taken control of the freaking truck and made Billy's truck nose dive right off a freaking bridge with him inside.

And everything about that story had led them to believe the previous owner of the truck, Billy’s brother Joey, had been the one to do it.

So of course they’d salted and burned the truck, and Dean had been very happy to think that their job was done, easy like that. He had been relieved that there had been no fighting at all; no confrontation with the angry, murderous ghost. He’d even allowed himself a little treat in celebration that night at their motel room, buying himself a ‘crossookie’, as the lady at the bakery had called it—a mixture of a croissant and a cookie that was basically everything Dean had been missing in his life. It was heavenly, and it was just too hilarious to watch Sam’s face while he ate the whole thing in just a few bites, putting up a bit of a show of chewing with his mouth open and letting the crumbs that fell from his mouth fly everywhere just to annoy his brother.

But because this was their life, some other girl from Kasem College had died in her dorm the night before they were planning to leave town. And apparently Julie had been choked to death by the electrical cable of her freaking laptop inside her locked dorm.

Good times.

So of course they’d stuck around to take a look around the college campus once more, since their job had clearly not been over just yet. Sam had worked his magic on the dead girl's laptop to see if there was anything they could work with there while Dean enjoyed the wonders of the college cafeteria to its fullest, piling as much food as he could onto his tray, much to Sam’s annoyance.

Of course, what Dean had not expected was to have a freaking epiphany in the middle of the freaking college cafeteria.

“Dude, how the hell can you eat all that?” Sam glanced down at the enormous variety of food that had barely fit on the tray, but thankfully Dean had figured out how to balance everything. "Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen you eat so much weird stuff like you've been eating these past few weeks."

The comment lingered in the air between them for only a moment before a thought hit Dean out of nowhere, and he sucked in a breath in surprise just as he was about to swallow. So of course he choked on his food, diving straight into a coughing fit that lasted for a whole minute and had a lot of people turning to look their way and giving Dean confused and mildly worried looks, maybe considering if he needed any kind of help.

When he was finally done, he took a sip of his yogurt, clearing his throat a few times, but his voice still came out scratchy and a little too high as he explained, “Sorry, wrong pipe.” Sam raised his eyebrows, but seemed to buy the explanation without questioning it. “What were you saying?”

Sam shook his head, still looking at his brother wearily and like he was half-expecting him to start coughing again. Finally, he shook his head, “Nothing, dude, it’s just… you’ve been eating a lot more lately, and like, weird stuff. I’ve never seen you eat so much cream cheese before. And I mean, what is that? You’re dipping your French fries into the salad cream.” Sam was laughing lightly as he talked, even as he pursed his lips at Dean's food, clearly amused by what he was saying.

But Dean didn’t laugh, because how the hell had he not seen this before? How had he not realized it? He was eating a lot lately—the days he didn’t feel sick all the time, that was—and a lot of weird stuff too. He seemed to have taken a liking to cream cheese and pickles especially, and _how the hell_ had he not noticed it before?

He was having _cravings._

Dean ate in silence after that, just mulling his newest revelation over in his head, rethinking every weird thing he had eaten in the past few weeks, and yeah, there were a lot of those. He hadn't even liked cream cheese all that much before, but he had been eating a lot of it, even back in Absarokee. Honestly, he hadn’t even known that cravings were actually a thing, but now it was the only thing that made sense. But wasn’t it a bit too early for cravings? Wasn’t that supposed to be a later thing? He hadn’t read about it in his books, but now he knew he was going to look for it in them when they got back to the Bunker.

Sam didn’t comment on Dean's new weird appetite again, though, which was truly a relief.

The subject still bothered Dean for a while, but soon enough he forgot about the cravings as another guy died. Fortunately, he and Sam were able to figure out what 810 meant and who the ghost really was, as well as the reason for the haunting and murders—four college students causing car accident nine months ago that had killed a local high school teacher, Andrew Silver.

So that had been how Dean ended up alone with Delilah in her room, in case Andrew’s ghost showed up to kill her, since she was certainly the next and last one in Andrew’s list, while Sam tried to figure out just how the ghost was traveling all over the college campus to kill his victims when he had died several blocks away from there.

And of course the freaking ghost had shown up and made Dean run with Delilah to the basement, where supposedly there was no wi-fi signal, and of course there was a cell phone down there buried between the cushions of the old couch in the corner, and _of fucking course_ the ghost showed up there because of it.

So Dean did the exact same thing he had promised himself he wouldn’t do, but because he was pumped with adrenaline and his hunter instincts were basically on overdrive, he didn’t even think twice about doing it.

He fought.

The ghost threw him around two times. The first time his back had taken most of the impact as he hit a brick pillar, but it was already enough to make him worry. However, he actually felt dread pooling into his insides when he felt a sharp pain in the right side of his stomach the second time, having been thrown through a wooden door and against a bunch of shelves inside the cleaning products closet before he fell to the floor. All air had immediately escaped his lungs the moment one of the shelves hit his side, and all he could think about was the tiny baby inside of him, getting shaken around and possibly hurt because Dean had been stupid enough to agree to a freaking hunt. All that ran through his head was how he could have hurt his little ball of light and how he should not be there. He got so worried and distracted by those thoughts that suddenly there were hands around his neck and the ghost was trying to suffocate him, dark dots invading his vision quickly as his lungs burned because of the sudden lack of oxygen. He'd tried getting loose, but the ghost was too strong and yet again all he could think about in that moment was about how this could very easily hurt the baby.

Fuck, why the hell had he fucking agreed to this?

Sammy had been a genius for putting the widow on the phone with the ghost so the guy could get some closure, he truly had, but the damage had already been done, whatever that had been. And true, Dean was happy for Delilah for finally finding the courage to go talk to Andrew’s wife when it was all said and done, that this story had run its course and that Andrew was finally at peace, but throughout the whole thing all Dean had been able to think about was the pain in his side that didn’t seem willing to go away and how he _didn’t know what to do._

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked as soon as they were back in their motel room. His brother was probably planning to sleep for a few hours before they were back on the road for real this time, even though it was the middle of the day. They hadn’t slept at all the night before, so it was understandable.

But Dean couldn’t sleep right now. He couldn’t even…

“No.” Dean swallowed, still standing by the door of the room, wincing at yet another sharp tug in his stomach. He wondered if the pain was actually getting worse or if he was just imagining it; if his panic was somehow making it feel like more than it really was. Was it truly getting stronger? Or had it always been like this and his worried mind was just playing tricks on him? What if…? God, what if he had…? “I’m… I’m going for a drive.”

Dean turned around to face the door they had just walked through, the keys to the Impala still grasped tightly in his hand, and he was just about to open the room door again when a hand gripped his arm, forcing him to turn back around and meet his brother’s clearly worried eyes, Sam’s gaze inquiring and urgent.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

Swallowing again, Dean shook his head, feeling his throat clogged and his tongue heavy, because he just _couldn’t talk about this right now_. He wanted to tell Sam right then and there, wanted to just lay it all down and finally tell Sam the truth, to end all the secrecy that had been chewing on Dean’s nerves since Absarokee. He knew that telling his brother would finally take off the enormous weight that was still sitting inside his chest, right over his heart, like a constant reminder of just how big the secret he was keeping truly was, the feeling of it almost actually painful.

But he just  _couldn’t_ do it.

So instead, all that came out of his mouth was a rushed, “I shouldn’t have come with you on this hunt, Sam.” And then he was yanking his arm free, not too strongly but just enough that his brother would feel the silent request. Sam let him go, not fighting the movement at all, Dean’s arm slipping from his grip without any resistance. Relieved and not really finding it in himself to hold Sam's gaze, Dean just walked out the door without looking back at his brother, practically running out of the room and over to the Impala.

He just drove around for a while, hoping it would be enough to help him calm down, hoping that maybe the pain would cease as his heartbeat slowed. He even stopped at a store to buy himself a new phone, since he'd had to smash his old one to save Delilah, just to have something else to think about other than his internal freak out. That didn't work too well, and so he went back to driving around, still hopeful that driving his Baby a little more would at some point help him calm down. His knuckles were white as his hands gripped the steering wheel with a lot more strength than necessary, his heart still pounding inside his chest, his head already starting to hurt with every beat, and none of that seemed to get any better as the minutes passed. He had no idea where to go, or what to do, but he had to do _something._ His side was hurting and that was not okay. He just couldn’t… He couldn’t even…

At some point he realized he was driving out of town, but he kept going until all that surrounded him were trees and the empty road before him. He stopped on the side of the road a few miles outside of Spencer, shutting off the engine as soon as he stopped and closing his eyes, resting his head against the steering wheel.

Another car drove by, the sound of it speeding by unusually loud in the silence that surrounded the Impala, but in just a moment it was gone in the distance.

He didn’t want to do this, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t think of anything else to do right now, or at least not anything that didn’t involve calling Cas and telling him what had happened, and _that_ was something he’d rather not do right now. He would if he had to, but he wanted to try something else first, because he could only imagine what he would be hearing from Cas about this.

He actually had to swallow a few times before managed to get even a single word out of his mouth.

“Gabriel,” he spoke into the empty car, closing his eyes shut and hoping with everything he had that the archangel could hear him, “If you can hear me, please, I…” He swallowed, shaking his head and forcing the words out, even if saying them was the last thing he wanted to do right then, “Something’s wrong, and I don’t know what to do. I…” No more words wanted to come out, so he just stopped there and waited, hoping those few sentences would be enough to get the archangel here.

But the bastard didn’t show. Dean waited for minutes, but of course Gabriel didn’t pop up. Now that he thought about it, as he waited for a response in the silence of his empty car, Dean didn’t even know why he'd thought he would. Desperation, maybe, but that didn’t change the fact that Gabriel was the opposite of trustworthy, and this was just proving Dean's point that they couldn’t really trust him.

But Gabriel being a no show meant that Dean would have to call Cas. He even felt a chill climbing his spine at that thought, nervousness settling in his stomach as he sucked in a slow, steadying breath.

This wasn’t going to be pretty at all.

He moved his hand to the side, feeling his pocket for his phone, trying to think of the best way to do this, the best way to tell Cas that he had gone on a hunt without having the angel implode.

He had no idea how to do that.

Maybe if he—

“Well, you look like someone just shot your puppy.”

Dean jumped, his head wiping to the side, and there Gabriel was, sitting beside him on the front seat, that freaking smirk playing on his lips, like always. Dean almost regretted calling him here just at the sight of it, but then he remembered the reason why he'd done it and swallowed the feeling down, instead choosing to focus on the fact that he wouldn’t have to tell Cas about the hunt just yet, letting the relief flood his insides for a moment until the dread of his current situation took over once more.

“So, what are we doing here?” Gabriel looked around, frowning at the scenery, but that little hint of mockery that seemed present in every single word he said slipped into his voice freely, “Decided to go sightseeing on your own and got lonely? You know, Dean-o, I’m sorry to let you down and I know I’m irresistible and all, but I draw the line at brother-in-law.”

“Okay, first of all, not a chance in hell.” Dean didn’t even want to think about that, because no. Just no. “I called you here because…” He swallowed once more, letting his voice drop a little, instantly losing all the strength from before as it became nothing more than a weak, frightened whisper, “Something happened.”

Gabriel turned to look at Dean again, and the hunter could see the exact moment when the look in his eyes shifted into something much more serious. It was weird, like a mask falling off, and suddenly Dean was reminded of what had happened back in that cabin, of how utterly terrifying Gabriel had been back there when Dean had pissed him off, for the first time since Dean had known him earning the title of fierce and absolute archangel, ‘Heaven’s most terrifying weapon’, as Cas had put it all those years ago.

“Let me guess," Gabriel shifted a little on his seat so he could face Dean better, his entire posture changing as he sat up straighter, "You went hunting.” There was no amusement in his tone whatsoever, his voice so unlike Gabriel that it made Dean swallow drily, finding it better to just nod in response. Huffing, Gabriel shook his head at him, “Why did I know you would do that?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Dean hurried to point out, as though it would make the situation better, as if explaining himself would fix anything, when he knew so clearly that it wouldn’t change a damn thing. He had screwed up royally, and he knew that. “Sam found this hunt and he insisted I came along, and he doesn’t know, so I couldn’t tell him why I couldn’t come. We thought it was just some salt and burn, just a quick job, that’s why I even agreed to it in the first place. But turns out, it wasn’t that easy.” He glanced down and lifted his hand to rest it on his stomach, over the spot where the pain was coming from. “I got tossed around, and now there’s this sharp pain here, and I don’t know…” His throat felt clogged again, and he didn’t even try to force any more words out, instead just letting the sound of his voice die out.

“Is it constant or does it come and go?” Gabriel’s voice was oddly rushed.

“Constant.”

He heard Gabriel exhale, and when he looked up, he could swear Gabriel looked relieved.

The archangel leaned closer to Dean on the seat as held his hand up and pushed Dean’s own hand away from its spot, pulling at the hem of the hunter’s shirt to lift it a little. The skin under it was already starting to bruise, a dark spot clearly making itself present on his skin, the sight of which sent a brand new wave of dread through Dean’s body, because that mark hadn’t been there before.

Gabriel didn’t speak as he looked down at it. He just pressed his palm over the bruise, and suddenly it lit up with light, which quickly became so bright Dean had to look away and close his eyes. He felt the warmth of it on his skin, and the spot right below Gabriel’s hand tickled like crazy, but he didn’t move; he just waited completely still until the archangel was done with whatever he was doing, hoping with everything there was in him that it would work; that he hadn’t done any sort of irreparable damage.

The single thought of it was terrifying.

Gabriel worked for a while, and then suddenly the warmth faded without a warning. Dean kept his eyes closed even a few seconds after that, waiting until he could no longer see the brightness of it through his eyelids, because Gabriel wasn’t Cas, so the light from his Grace could definitely blind Dean.

“The nephilim is fine,” the archangel announced as the light finally begin to vanish, and just then did Dean allow his eyes to open again. He suddenly felt about a hundred pounds lighter at those words, the pressure of the worry in his chest fading at last. “That was just a superficial bruise and a strained muscle, no internal damage.”

Dean let out a breath of relief, letting his head fall back against the car seat and closing his eyes again. The baby was fine. His tiny embryo; his bright little blob of light was fine.

“I would not recommend hunting again, though. This was a big risk. I hope you know that.”

Swallowing drily, Dean nodded tightly, because he had already reached that conclusion by himself, in the exact moment that ghost had flung him across the room for the first time. And the dread that something had happened, that he had somehow hurt his baby; that had honestly been the most terrifying feeling in the world, and he definitely did not want to feel that again, ever.

“Shouldn’t Cas’ Grace have healed me, though?” Dean inquired as he opened his eyes again, looking down and resting his hand lightly on the now clean and normal looking patch of skin where the bruise had been a few second ago. He was careful, hesitant to let his hand linger over it too long, like he was unconsciously afraid that if he touching it the wrong way might undo whatever Gabriel had just done. “He said I would have supernatural healing or something.”

“Cas’ Grace is too weak for that right now, especially if he’s far away, which I’m assuming is the case, because he would not have let you come on this hunt had he been here.”

Dean shook his head, “No, he’s a few states away. He… doesn’t know where I am.”

Gabriel nodded, looking like that had been the exact same answer he had been expecting to hear. “Considering his state, Castiel's Grace will probably only heal you from anything that threatens your life, but not from cuts or bruises, and definitely not when he’s so far. It’s too much for him. His Grace is already constantly fighting the Mark to keep the nephilim alive. It can’t just heal your every little scratch right now.”

Of course it couldn't, and it definitely didn’t need Dean getting himself in harm’s way and risking more of Cas’ Grace, wasting it like it meant nothing. Fuck, he was already a terrible father, and his kid hadn’t even been born yet, wasn’t even close to being even mostly developed. He really screwed up everything.

“Don’t go so hard on yourself, bucko,” Gabriel was back to smirking, the shift in his mood so quick it would be weird if it was anyone else, but considering just who it was coming from, well, Dean wasn’t surprised. “No harm done.”

He wanted to say that there could have been harm, that something could have happened if he had landed any differently, or if he had gotten hurt so badly that Cas’ Grace would try to heal him, but he kept his mouth shut, seeing no need to make the situation even worse or himself feel any more like the worst parent in the whole fucking world.

So instead of any comment on just how much he hated himself in that moment, Dean decided to go for another topic, “Can I… Can I ask you something?”

“What, decided to consider my offer?” Gabriel winked at him, wiggling his eyebrows.

Dean had to actually remind himself that punching an archangel wasn’t a good idea, although the last time he had done it had felt pretty good. All he did was roll his eyes and let out an annoyed huff, though, keeping the urge at bay, even if the Mark seemed to agree with it very loudly. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, deciding it was best for all the involved that he ignored the comment, along with the Mark’s chanting, “And I’m not picking up a fight, seriously, you know I’m not,” He shrugged weakly, shaking his head and keeping his voice low and steady, “Why are you helping us like this?”

Gabriel’s face changed again, though this time it was different. It didn’t grow angry like it had the first time Dean had asked him this back at the cabin, nor was it practical and a little worried like it had been second before. No, his eyes were heavy with something else all of a sudden; something so close to actual sadness that had Dean doing a double take, because honestly, that look was just so wrong for Gabriel Dean could barely believe he was seeing it.

“I’m not doing this for you, if that’s what you’re asking,” Gabriel’s voice was low and so unlike the archangel that Dean couldn’t even find it in himself to let any kind of snarky comment out of his lips, “I’m doing it for Castiel.”

“But why?” Dean shook his head, “You spent _years_ hiding after the Apocalypse, and suddenly you’re acting like you care about him. He died three times after the Hotel, you do know that, right?”

“And that is exactly why.”

Dean frowned, because that didn’t make sense. “What, you suddenly feel bad?”

Gabriel swallowed visibly, looking away and out the window as he felt silent. He was actually quiet for so long that Dean convinced himself he wouldn’t get an answer; that he was just expecting the archangel to vanish at any second and leave the conversation at that.

He was surprised to learn otherwise.

“Castiel is… not like the others, or like most of them, at least. There’s a reason why Father has brought him back over the years; I'm sure you know that. He’s never done that for anyone before, ever.”

Dean nodded lightly, because he had already wondered about that himself quite a few times over the past few years. He didn’t know exactly what it meant; all he could think of was that Cas really was different, better than the others, if God Himself didn’t want Cas to die.

But Dean had known that already even before Cas had died the first time. Cas had always been different to him. That had been the reason why he’d chosen to trust Cas in the first place all those years ago.

“And while I don’t like you too much, Dean-o,” Dean scoffed, but remained quiet otherwise, “To Castiel… I don’t think you realize just how much you mean to him.”

Swallowing, Dean had to look away at that, because suddenly his mind was back to all those weeks ago, back when Charlie had been insisting that Cas loved him. And while sure, he believed now that Cas really wanted him, that he actually cared for him a lot more differently than Dean had believed it possible before, for some reason he still did not understand, but _love…_ that was just too much for him to process, so he just shoved those thoughts aside, locking them away in a drawer in the depths of his mind to look at later, if at all.

“And I know you don’t believe me, but that doesn’t change the facts. He really does love you. You’re his shot at happiness, Dean, you and this child, and he deserves it, more than any of us.”

And as Dean looked up to meet Gabriel’s gaze, he was surprised to realize he didn't completely doubt that the archangel actually believed what he was saying, even if he himself couldn’t do the same. Dean actually heard the truth in those words, the unwavering conviction, because there was no hint of mockery or joke in Gabriel’s voice. There was something very close to sadness and a certain urgency that had Dean realizing maybe he really had misjudged Gabriel’s intentions after all; that maybe the archangel really did deserve the benefit of the doubt on this one.

And that was how he found the words he’d once thought he would never say to Gabriel escaping his mouth before he could stop them, before he could actually think them through. “Well… Thank you, for, you know…” He cleared his throat, forcing the last word out before he could change his mind. Now he might as well let it out, “Everything.”

A smirk found its way into the archangel’s features, but it wasn’t quite the same as what Dean was used to seeing. His eyes were still heavy, darkened by a cloud of emotion Dean had not been prepared to see in them, still no hint of mockery in his expression whatsoever.

And suddenly Dean was alone, getting no vocal response at all, the brief sound of wings fluttering through the air the only telltale that Gabriel had ever been there, leaving the hunter alone in the car once more.

***~*~*~*~***

“Well, this is definitely the place,” Charlie commented as she opened the door of her car and calmly got out. Castiel followed suit, stepping out of the vehicle slowly, his eyes scanning their surroundings, carefully taking in the vastness of the empty land around them.

They were at a horse farm a few miles north of Kennesaw, Georgia. It was the place of yet another ‘miracle’, as the locals had grown accustomed to calling it, which seemed to be the case in most of the places they visited.

Almost two years ago, during the so called meteor shower, one of the 'lights' fell inside this property, far away from the main house, right in the middle of one of the fields where the horses usually roamed around all day, but fortunately it had been night and all the animals had been inside at the time of the Angel Fall.

According to the owners of the farm, it had all gone crazy soon after that. All the fields in a 10 mile radius had grown overly fertile, with the grass growing impressively tall in just a few days. Flower bushes had grown around the place where the ‘light’ had fallen, and in the center, a big tree had spawned, growing fully in just two weeks. They’d had to fence out the area so the horses wouldn’t go there.

The tall fences they could see now surrounded a pretty big area of tall grass that reached up to their waists. They could also see the inpossibly tall bushes, green leaves and colorful flowers peeking from the inside, plus the canopy of the tree right at the center, much taller than the bushes and the fence, imposing even.

There were three horses a few meters away, basking in the sun and eating the grass. The animals paid them no mind.

“Can you feel anything?” Charlie asked from beside Castiel, but he did not move his gaze to her. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the fences before them, glued to the plants, and he could not bring himself to look away.

He could feel it—the traces of uncontrolled angelic Grace coming from inside, very close. It was familiar, soothing somewhat, and yet it settled a weight over Castiel’s chest as he finally recognized it.

“Yes,” he answered lowly, his legs moving without much thought, his feet quickly taking him toward the gate. The owner had given them the key to it so they could see the garden from themselves, and he gripped it tightly in his hand as he approached the gate, the metal cold against the skin of his palm.

“Cas?”

Castiel did not respond, instead inserting the key inside the lock and twisting it slowly, carefully, listening to the sound of the padlock unlocking and watching it as it opened.

Calmly, he pushed the gate, hearing it whine in protest, rusted already due to being exposed to the weather for almost two years. He could hear Charlie following him silently as he walked, but did not turn around to look at her, his eyes focused forward, taking in what waited for them inside the fence.

The tall grass was easy to get through, and at last he reached the so called garden. The bushes there were all clearly healthy, impossibly green foliage covering every single inch of them, not one single yellow or brown leaf in sight. The flowers were colorful, from various shapes and forms, from all kinds and sizes, covering all the bushes around them without exception—orchids, lilies, roses, tulips; Castiel could see them all, and many more he did not bother to examine closer and identify.

There wasn’t a clear path to the center of the garden, but the bushes had spaces between them, like a maze, and it was not hard to navigate through them.

It was a beautiful place. Calm and eerie, the quiet so intense it seemed almost too loud. And yet there was also a loaded energy clearly hanging in the air, like an electric current that kept brushing over Castiel's skin as he walked. It felt odd and unsettling, and at the same time calming, soothing, almost peaceful, inviting.

And yet, the weight in Castiel’s chest grew heavier, tighter, almost uncomfortable. His throat felt odd, like there was something in it, a thick lump making it harder to breathe, his airways clogged with something that wasn't physically there.

He kept going. He wasn’t thinking anymore, instead allowing his body to move on its own accord, following the feeling that was drawing him in, calling out to him, until finally he reached the center of the garden.

It was an oak tree, just as Anael’s had been. It was big, imposing, and clearly it would not have reached its size under normal circumstances, not in two years. But it had angelic Grace to feed on, to drain, and as Grace was energy in its pure form, uncontrolled creation shaping its surroundings as it pleased, this had been possible.

Castiel approached the tree slowly, hesitantly, his steps cautions and respectful. Because that was how they had to be now; how he had to act here. Anything different would feel wrong.

“Cas?” he heard Charlie trying again, her voice coming from a few steps behind him. He could hear the hesitance in her voice, the way his name had been whispered a clear sign that she could feel it too—how the air felt loaded, how wrong it would be to speak any louder here. And yet, even feeling how uncomfortable the girl felt right then, he did not turn around. “Is it… is it your Grace?”

There was hope in her voice, Castiel could hear it clearly. And he knew why suddenly she was hopeful, why she would think maybe they had found what they had been so desperately looking for, traveling miles and miles in their search.

Because he had not reacted this way in any of the other nine towns they had visited; never had he needed to actually enter the spot where the angel Grace that had been responsible for everything resided. They had only taken the key that had been offered to them not to raise any suspicion, since they had asked the owner of the farm if they could see the garden. Castiel had always been able to feel that the Grace in each town did not belong to him from a certain distance, and there had never been any need to go to the place itself, to actually get this close to the source of the signal.

So the fact that Castiel was acting differently about this particular place was bound to make the girl think that maybe this place was different than the others; that perhaps they had actually been lucky enough to come across the correct location in their tenth try.

Slowly, he moved his hand, lifting it until he could touch the wooden trunk of the tree, feeling the rough surface brushing againstthe skin of his palm. The Grace inside of him whined, complaining, letting out a cry of grief from deep within himself.

“No." The word sounded heavy on his tongue, and he did not turn around to watch the disappointment wash over Charlie's face, making the hope in her eyes fade and her expression fall.

Closing his eyes, Castiel leaned forward so his forehead could touch the trunk, letting out a breath as he whispered, “Ezekiel.”

Of course this one was different. Some of the locations they’d come across had been from angels that had survived the Fall, and even the ones that belonged to angels who had not survived, Castiel had not known them.

But he had known Ezekiel.

They had been trained together, and at some point, Ezekiel had served under Castiel. He had been a good soldier, and a loyal friend. It had been for that reason that Castiel had told Dean Ezekiel was trustworthy when the hunter had accepted Gadreel’s help instead without knowing. Because Ezekiel was one of the few angels who had actually earned the title of family for Castiel.

And because of Castiel, Ezekiel was dead. The Fall had been Castiel’s fault, after all.

Standing here, at the place where his brother had died because of him, because he had given his trust to an angel who did not deserve it, because he had been too naïve to realize Metatron’s true twisted intentions, all Castiel could feel was guilt and shame, all of it boiling over in his chest and threatening to swallow him whole.

A hand rested on Castiel’s shoulder, but he did not move, did not lift his head or open his eyes.

“Ezekiel,” Charlie repeated. Her voice was no more than a small, tentative whisper, but all of a sudden it seemed too loud in his ears still, “Sam told me that was… that was the angel Gadreel pretended to be.”

His head felt heavy, his muscles slow to respond, but Castiel managed to nod in response.

“He was your friend.”

It wasn’t a question. Her tone was heavy, like she suddenly knew exactly what was going on, why Castiel was acting this way, why he was reacting so badly to this location in particular, and the angel was glad for her understanding.

Her hand slipped away, and Castiel heard her step back and away from him. She grew quiet after that.

They stayed in the garden for a while, Charlie patiently waiting for Castiel while the angel grieved. He apologized to Ezekiel countless times in his head during that time. It made him feel better to just say those words, project them in his mind to the tree before him, even without knowing if there was any sort of afterlife for angels as there was for humans, or if Ezekiel could even hear what he was saying from there if there was.

When finally Castiel found the will to move, he turned around, and Charlie followed him out the garden without a word, giving him space, probably sensing how heavy the air felt around him.

They entered the car in silence, and then just sat there for a few more minutes, Castiel’s eyes fixed forward at the fences of the garden, the sight of it still unsettling. The weight in his chest seemed to have only grown heavier.

He had failed Ezekiel, just as he had failed countless other angels; just as he had failed Heaven as a whole. Failing seemed to be the only thing he knew how to do.

But he could not fail Dean or their child. He wouldn’t. He _couldn’t._

He remained silent during the entire drive to the next town in their list, Marietta, just glancing out the window and letting his mind roam freely. Charlie did not speak at all, did not try to engage in any sort of conversation to try and ease the tension inside the car. She respected his silence, gave him the space he needed, and Castiel was glad for it.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam hadn’t said a thing.

Not when Dean had come back to the motel room hours after he’d left, nor when Dean had simply fallen onto the bed to sleep a little. Sam hadn’t asked where he had taken off to or what he had gotten up to in the time he had been gone, hadn’t said a single word about Dean’s behavior after the hunt at all.

But Dean knew he’d wanted to. He could see it in the way Sam lingered around him, treading lightly, like you do with a wounded, spooked animal you’re trying not to scare so it wouldn’t flee, but you still wanted to check on it somehow, so you just waited for the chance, the right moment. His brother was pretty easy to read when there was something bothering him, and he was being pretty obvious with this, maybe even deliberately to try and see if he could get Dean to open up without a push or something of the sort, as if Dean would just tell him what was wrong on his own.

Of course, Dean didn’t bite. He’d just quickly gone back to acting like everything was fine, putting up the façade he’d spent the last entire year working to build up because of the Mark, since he really didn’t need Sam probing for information right now. Now that his panic was gone, the hesitancy to tell Sam about the nephilim was back, and he once more decided that he needed to wait just a little more.

The silence that had lingered in the car on the drive back to the Bunker had been terrible to endure. The air between them was terribly uncomfortable, unspoken words floating around their heads but remaining unsaid. The tension was so thick Dean had to stop a lot more than it was normally necessary so they wouldn't suffocate in it.

His bladder was thankful for it, though, because honestly, the amount of times he had to pee throughout the day was already starting to get ridiculous.

And of course, when they finally got back to the Bunker, Dean put all his efforts into avoiding his brother as much as possible. The amount of tension in the air reminded him of the time when he had been having those attacks and Cas had been in the wind all those weeks ago. He and Sam had slipped into this very routine of spending as little time as possible in the same room and barely exchanging any words at all, and honestly, Dean hated every second of it, but there was nothing he could do to change that.

So Dean threw himself into research on the Mark once more, feeling much more driven than ever. He didn’t want to go through a scare like the one in Spencer ever again, and he was determined to end this whole Mark thing for good.

He remembered what Cas had said about the Demon Tablet, how maybe it might have something on the Mark, but it was missing. He fed that idea for just a few days until he gave up on it, since he really had no way to track it, so instead he’d started reading through books and online articles about every damn thing he could think of, going as far as researching tattoo laser removal for lack of anything else.

Metatron’s words kept repeating in his head on a constant loop, but he had no freaking idea what to make of them. He couldn't even tell if they meant anything at all, and for all they knew, the bastard could have just been making things up.

_“The river shall end at the source!”_

What the hell could that even _mean?_

The only good thing was that Dean had successfully managed to keep his little escapade from Cas, and fortunately Gabriel hadn’t told him either, because Cas hadn’t yet called him about it or imploded in any way, so that was something less for him to worry about. Their calls still happened frequently, as did their texting, but an uneasy feeling had begun to settle in Dean's stomach with every single one of them, like a heavy rock sitting inside of him and not letting him grow too much hope.

Because Cas was losing hope with this road trip, that much was obvious now, even more than it had been before. Dean himself was starting to think even more vehemently that this blind search for Cas’ Grace wouldn’t get them anywhere, because every story he heard from Cas was the exact same—he and Charlie would drive into town, ask around for any weirdness and look for the source of it, namely the spot where the energy for the craziness was coming from. They didn’t even need to find it—Cas could usually feel pretty quickly that the Grace responsible for the sudden miracle healings, unexpected pregnancies in women on birth control, and one weird town that had an overpopulation of cats all of a sudden, wasn’t his own Grace, so he and Charlie would go back to the road, headed for their next destination with less hope than when they had arrived.

And for days, that was all that had happened, and Dean truly hated it; the routine that seemed to be leading them all nowhere. He felt like he was doing nothing, just sitting there on his thumbs, waiting for something to happen but not helping the situation at all. Every day that passed, with every single phone call he got from Cas telling him about yet another town from the list that had been a bust, every time he caught sight of Sam asleep on a book in the library; it all made the weight of the rock in his stomach get even heavier, the small, thin shred of hope he’d been so desperate trying to hang onto to for weeks, to make grow, crumbling to pieces and slowly fading inside his chest.

***~*~*~*~***

“So…”

Castiel looked up from his meal, frowning as he waited for the redhead to elaborate. They were in a diner in Smyrna, planning to head to Mableton next. They had passed through four other towns after Kennesaw—Marietta, Milton, Roswell and Johns Creek, and even so, they had yet to finish going through the results in Georgia, which was definitely not a promising thought.

This search was going too slow, taking too much of the very little time they had, and the lack of success was beginning to bother Castiel more and more with every single hour they spent driving in Charlie’s car; with every moment that passed and made this whole plan seem even more like a pointless trip, a dog chasing its tail for hours without being led anywhere.

“How are you?” was her question.

Castiel frowned, regarding her carefully, both surprised and confused by her words. They had not been speaking about anything that could possibly lead to that question, so he could not quite understand why she was voicing it now; what train of thought could have possibly taken her in that direction.

Probably noticing his confusion, the girl shrugged, the movement weak and almost shy, almost like she was not sure how to explain why she had asked it, or maybe she was hesitant to do so. Castiel could not tell which one might be the case here. “I mean, you just seem a little… off. You’ve been quieter than normal since we left the horse farm over a weeks ago.”

Swallowing, Castiel looked back down at his plate. He had been hungry when they had first gotten to this place, since his Grace seemed to be demanding more and more nourishment as it slowly burned out, but as he had allowed his mind to wander the feeling of hunger seemed to have evaporated.

Still, he cut the steak before him carefully, because he knew in spite of not truly feeling the desire for it, his body still needed food.

“It is nothing relevant,” he replied lowly, pressing the tips of his fork into the meat and letting them dig into the small piece he had cut free from the rest, “Or at least nothing that can be fixed now.”

He raised his fork and placed the meat inside his mouth, chewing slowly. During the past few weeks, he'd found that he really enjoyed meat, and this particular place prepared it very well.

Charlie didn’t look convinced. She just stared at Castiel for a beat, and the angel held her gaze, waiting to see what her response would be, if she would question him further or would simply let the subject go, as he was hoping for.

At last, she let out a breath, picking up one of her French fries and dipping half of it into the small pool of ketchup she had made earlier on the side of her plate. She just kept it there as she spoke, though, not lifting it to her mouth just yet, instead simply moving it around the sauce, as if trying to draw some kind of pattern in it. “You don’t think this… search, the list, will lead us anywhere, do you?”

Castiel swallowed, glancing down at his food before letting his fork rest on the plate. Slowly, he shook his head. He could not tell her the truth, not while Dean was still reluctant to tell both her and Sam about the baby, so he would respect Dean’s wish. But he could still be partially truthful with her, and that would just have to be enough. “I’m not… confident about it.”

“Do you want to stop?”

Castiel didn’t know. He wanted to find a way to fix everything; to save Dean and their child from his fading Grace and the Mark. This whole search, this entire trip was pointless, he had been aware of it before, but now it was much more evident to him, right in front of his eyes, and he could not do it anymore, could not follow through with this idea if it was only wasting the precious little time they had. It became clearer to him every day how this wasn’t the way to right by Dean and their child. The thought of continuing on this road trip only made him feel uneasy. He couldn’t see this going anywhere; couldn’t get himself to believe that this would actually be how they would find his Grace, but how could he give up the only actual plan they had? Even if this search wasn’t promising, at least it was a plan, an idea, something. The alternative was returning to the Bunker and continuing to bury themselves in books, which in his mind seemed even more pointless, since it was clear now that research alone would not get them anywhere.

The doubt on what to do was truly threatening to drive him mad.

“What other option do I have, Charlie?”

Charlie bit her lip, finally tossing her fry into her mouth. She shifted on her chair, pulling her bag to her lap as she began to chew. Castiel watched silently as she looked through the contents of it, pulling out a sheet of paper and sliding it over the table for Castiel to see.

He glanced down at it, finding himself staring at a printed news article. It spoke about three murder cases in Fayetteville, North Carolina. In all the cases, a teenager had snapped and killed their entire family before ending their own life. Letting his eyes float over the words, Castiel understood that apparently the teenagers had had abrupt changes of behavior a few days prior to the murders, and that peculiarly all the murder scenes were marked with a strong scent of rotten eggs.

A demon, it seemed.

“What is this?” the angel asked, unsure about why the girl was showing him this. If he was bothered about not doing something relevant to their current issues, then how could she possibly think he would be interested in a demon case?

“I’ve been trying to find Cain as well." Castiel frowned, surprised, but waited patiently for her to continue. He had not been aware of this. "I couldn’t find anything on him, though, mainly because I don’t even know what exactly to look for. But…” She shrugged a little, and then lowered her voice so her words wouldn't travel too far from their booth, “Maybe a demon could be a start.”

Castiel nodded slowly, recalling the conversation he and Dean had had with Crowley weeks ago back in Wayne, about how they should look for Cain. He, too, wasn’t sure how to find the Knight, and none of them had any idea on how to even being to look for him, so they hadn’t focused much effort on it. Charlie was right, though; a demon might be just the right way to start.

Still, they could not even know if Cain would help them with the Mark if they found him, or if he could even help at all, but the clock was ticking fast and now Castiel realized maybe they would not have much choice on the matter.

The perspective of it did not make Castiel happy in the least. Dean could not be near Cain at all, because he feared that might dangerously aggravate the Mark, just as the Blade might, and that would be far too dangerous for both Dean and the baby. If he was going to look for Cain, then Castiel would have to do it on his own.

“It might indeed be a lead to finding Cain. We should probably check it.” It was a long shot, true, but it seemed more promising than the road trip, and that was already enough to have Castiel convinced. At least looking for Cain seemed like a much more solid lead.

“We can check this one. I mean, it’s just north of here and kind of not _too_ out of our way back to Kansas, but…” Charlie shook her head, “I’m not going with you after that.”

Castiel frowned at her once more, a little surprised by the answer, “Why not?”

“I’m going to Tuscany.”

The words hung in the air for only a short moment until they made sense. Slowly, Castiel nodded in agreement. He understood it then.  “Can you find it?” he asked quietly, “Do you think you could track it somehow?”

Charlie paused, an odd look taking over her eyes as she seemed to think it through.

Finally, she nodded, “Maybe. I’ll try everything I can.”

Castiel knew he could not ask more of her, so all he could do was nod in response, hoping she could see how thankful he felt for her help.

It was settled then that they would not be going to Mableton. They headed to North Carolina instead, and no matter what the outcome of the case in Fayetteville turned out to be, they planned to head to the Bunker next, since Cas' car was still there, where they would part ways. The single thought of returning to the Bunker was already enough to make Castiel feel lighter, even if he would be going back empty handed. He had been away from Dean and the baby for almost a month, and he was glad it was finally time to see them again. Phone calls and texts toned down some of the anxiousness from the distance, but it wasn't quite enough.

He told Dean he and Charlie would be returning to the Bunker the next time they spoke on the phone, but he simply told the hunter that he and Charlie needed a break from the list, deciding to discuss the real reason for it in person. Dean hadn't questioned it, and it had been easy to hear the smile in the hunter's voice during that entire conversation.

Castiel wished he could hear that every day; that Dean's default expression at the moment was not the permanent frown of worry that had settled onto his features and refused to melt away; that his eyes would not so often grow heavy and distant as his troubled thoughts locked him in his own head; that his mind did not need to be constantly fighting the influence of the Mark; that there was no strain on Dean's body to keep the baby safe and alive.

It hurt to think that none of that would be possible any time soon.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean wasn’t sure what woke him up.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, either, he just knew immediately that it was way too early for consciousness. His body complained as soon as he considered whether or not he should be getting up, and he groaned lowly, quickly deciding that going back to sleep was way better than moving. So he just closed his eyes more tightly together, furrowing his face as he hid it against the pillow, even though there wasn’t any light in his room that he needed to block, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable. The comforter ran over his bare skin, but it didn't fall, keeping his body warm under it, and he sighed at just how cozy he felt then. He could feel he would be drifting off in no time.

And then he felt a hand on his hip.

His first reaction was to tense up in alarm, startled by a touch he hadn’t been expecting, but his muscles relaxed as soon as he finally noticed the strong buzzing of the soul bond, almost like the content purring of a cat. It hadn't felt like that in weeks.

Keeping his eyes closed, he smiled, but said nothing. He knew Cas already knew he was awake.

As if to confirm precisely that, Cas moved closer, pressing himself flush to Dean's back. The angel's hand slid slowly over the hunter's skin, breath ghosting against his throat for a moment before Dean felt Cas' lips pressing light kisses to the spot where his shoulder met his neck, mouth dragging over his bare skin lazily and making Dean shiver.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Cas whispered against his skin.

Dean chuckled, finally opening his eyes. His vision was only blurry for a handful of seconds, adjusting quickly after just a few blinks. “No, you’re not.” He smiled even more widely as he turned on the mattress so he could look up at Cas, who then lifted himself a little so he could tower over Dean on the bed.

The smile on the seraph's lips said everything.

Lowering his head, Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s, “Perhaps not.”

Dean's smile widened even more at the response, and he lifted his own hand to grip the back of the angel's head so he could pull Cas down to him.

His chest felt fuzzy, this warm pleasant feeling coming from the bond spreading all over his body, and he wasn't sure who it was coming from, but he didn't really care. He understood it as them both being happy and the bond echoing with their joined delight. He didn't look too closely at it, because honestly, all he wanted to do was kiss Cas. He hadn’t done it in weeks, and he’d really missed Cas.

Thinking could wait.

Cas slid over him, moving one leg over Dean so he could straddle him. He did not quite press down onto Dean, but still towered over the hunter on the bed as he assaulted Dean’s mouth with his own. Cas hadn't shaved in a few days, it seemed, but Dean wasn't complaining. He actually really liked the burn of the stubble against his mouth and cheek. 

Dean lifted his hand, grabbing at Cas’ hair to tilt the angel’s head to the side, letting his tongue slip into Cas’ mouth, sighing at just how good it felt to do this again. God, he had missed this. It had only been about four weeks, but already it had been too much.

Lifting his leg, he wrapped it around Cas and pulled him down even more, letting his head fall back as Cas moved his mouth down to kiss neck. His entire body lit up with warm waves washing over every single inch of his body, delicious shivers running down his spine at the feeling of Cas’ mouth on his throat. His dick was already beginning to harden in his boxers.

And why was Cas still wearing clothes?

“Dean…”

Tugging at Cas’ coat, Dean got Cas to raise his head back up, and he silenced the angel with a short kiss. “You know, there’s a way to make this way more fun.”

Whatever Cas had tried to say then died on his lips as Dean continued to tug at his clothes, letting his lips wander to Cas’ chin so he could bite at the skin there. As his teeth grazed at the angel’s jaw, Cas took matters into his own hand to shake off his trench coat and suit jacket all at once, tossing them to the side of the bed as soon as he was free of them.

Dean smiled, tugging Cas’ head down once more by the tie that still hung around his neck to kiss him some more. Still, in his opinion, there were still too many clothes between them, because he was mostly naked, but Cas still had way too many layers on him that just had to go.

He started fiddling with Cas’ tie for that purpose, but the angel seemed to have other ideas in his mind, pulling away from Dean once more to trail kisses all the way down to the hunter’s collarbone. Dean’s hand didn’t leave the angel’s head for even a moment, gripping the seraph’s hair between his fingers and just following Cas’ movements. Cas’ hand snaked down his sides as he moved. They paused over Dean's stomach for just a moment before Cas moved them again, slowly tracing their way to the hunter's hipbones, where the angel gripped the waistband of his boxers for just a second before pulling them down and off of Dean’s legs.

“Cas…” Dean only had time to lift his head and look at what Cas was doing before there was a sweet, warm, wet tongue running over his dick from base to tip, and he had no time to try to stop the moan that tore out of his lips.

Cas pulled away then, raising his head as he spoke, “Sam and Charlie are in the kitchen, Dean.”

Oh, right. They should probably be quiet.

Oops.

“Yeah. Okay.” He nodded once, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, not quite managing another word right then. He was rock hard already, and all he wanted was for Cas to go down on him right there. His entire body felt like he was being swallowed by flames, and all he could think about was how much he _needed_ this.

Fortunately Cas seemed to be on the same page as him, because just a second later the tongue was back and it was _glorious._ Cas’ licks were practiced now; the angel knew exactly just how Dean liked this, knew exactly what to do to tear him apart piece by piece, when to let his tongue run over the tip or when to take him into his mouth and swallow around Dean’s cock. In no time Dean was nothing but a begging mess and he loved every second of it.

But he didn’t want to come like this; he didn’t want it to be over this soon, so he pulled at Cas’ hair when he started to feel everything a little too intense, when the heat already began to build in his belly, and the angel thankfully got the hint pretty quickly.

“Not like this, Cas,” Dean whispered, shaking his head lightly as the angel went back to towering over him.

“How?”

Dean paused, looking up at Cas as the angel waited patiently for an answer, the look so open and patient it made Dean want to smile at him.

He actually wanted to try something that they hadn’t done before; that he had actually only done once before, and while it had felt pretty good that one time, he knew that it would feel a thousand times better with Cas, as it seemed to have been the case with everything else they’d done so far.

He wasn’t sure if Cas would like it, though, but maybe it was time they experimented a little. Their sex life had been pretty vanilla so far, and of course they couldn’t go too overboard with anything, as Gabriel had warned them, but this wasn’t crossing a line, Dean was pretty sure.

“I want to try something,” he admitted, “I’ll show you.”

Cas’ reaction was just a nod, and Dean surged up to kiss him again. He hoped Cas would like this. He was actually excited to do this.

He let his hands travel down to Cas’ pants, not resisting the urge to just grab Cas through the fabric. His own dick gave a twitch when he felt how hard Cas was, and he gladly swallowed the gasp he got from the angel when he gripped him a few more times, loving how Cas’ mouth grew more urgent against his as he did it, swallowing the low grunts that escaped the angel's lips every time.

Dean started to fumble with Cas’ belt and pants, but the angel quickly pushed his hand away when it became clear the hunter wouldn’t be able to manage it without looking down, and he didn't want to do that, because it meant stopping kissing Cas, and he definitely wasn’t going to do that.

He didn’t see it happen, but suddenly Cas was shifting on the bed, and the next thing he knew was that Cas was pushing him backwards once more and that the rest of the angel's clothes had vanished at some point. At last Cas leaned against him on the bed, letting their bare bodies finally touch everywhere, and Dean could have cried at just how good it felt to have that again, the warm skin all around him familiar and inviting. His hands moved over Cas’ body like he hadn’t felt him in months when it had actually only been weeks, touching everywhere he could as the angel’s hands did the same.

Still, as good as it felt to just kiss naked, they were both very much hard in that moment and Dean was pretty sure he might die if he didn’t do something about it right then.

“Cas,” Dean pulled back slightly, but Cas followed him, stealing a few more kisses before he finally let Dean speak, “Get the lube.”

That seemed to be the only thing that would get Cas to actually pull away from him right now, and the angel hurried to open the bedside table drawer, retrieving the bottle they were about halfway through right now. Dean actually hadn’t used any of it after Cas had left, sticking mostly to not going much farther than jerking off in the shower with Cas gone, and still feeling oddly empty as he did it because the bond felt numb and he hated it.

He was glad for that, though; that he had managed to not do much more than just giving himself a few hand jobs. It only made this feel so much better.

Cas seemed unsure about what he should be doing with the lube, and it took Dean a moment to remember that he was the one who was supposed to be giving directions here. Cas had no idea what he had in mind.

“You know how I like it,” He smirked as he said it, watching as understanding flooded Cas eyes and he nodded.

Cas worked him open carefully, just as he always did, and Dean was pretty sure Cas was still afraid he might hurt him somehow, even after having done this quite a few times now. Dean had no complaints about it, though, because feeling Cas sliding his fingers in and out of him felt too good for it, especially since the angel was now an expert at locating and all but milking his prostate as he did it, pressing against it every single chance he got, curling his fingers just the right way that had Dean arching off the bed and having to bite his lip to not make too much noise.

When Cas was done and let his fingers slip out of him, Dean sat up on the bed, feeling more than ready to get this party on the road. He could feel the anticipation rising in himself already.

“Sit with your back to the headboard,” he instructed, and Cas hurried to comply. Dean leaned over him, straddling his lap as he poured a handful of lube onto his hand so he could spread it over Cas’ erection. The angel closed his eyes as he did it, a broken moan that he clearly tried to hold back still managing to make its way out of his lips with every stroke Dean gave him, and the hunter couldn't help but massaging Cas' length a few more times the necessary to apply the lube just to hear that sound a few more times.

Tossing the bottle aside, Dean got himself ready, leaning over Cas with one leg on each side of the angel, looming with his ass just over Cas’ cock, lowering himself just enough that the tip of it was pressing against his entrance.

Resting his forehead against Cas’, he kissed the angel one more time. “You trust me?” he asked, because he still needed to be sure that Cas was totally on board with trying something new.

Cas nodded without hesitance, and that was exactly the answer Dean had been waiting for.

Closing his eyes, Dean sank down.

It burned a little at first, just as it always did, but of course Dean didn’t let that stop him, moving down gradually as Cas entered him, closing his eyes at the feeling of Cas’ length slipping into him. He had to actually hold back the moan that threatened to fall from his lips, but he didn’t quite manage it, and the sound of it got quite a vocal response from Cas. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as Cas’ hand shot up to grip at his hips. His own dick perked up happily as if it was being touched, tingling like crazy as the bond echoed with the sensations coming from Cas.

It was only when Cas was fully seated and pulsating deliciously inside of him that Dean allowed his eyes to open, looking down at Cas to try to gauge the angel’s reaction to this, and the sight that greeted him was even better than what he’d expected.

Cas’ pupils were blown, his mouth partially open, his entire chest and neck flushed. The angel's chest was heaving slightly as his eyes traveled up and down Dean’s body, making the hunter feel even hotter under his gaze. The bond felt like it was on fire, lit up with nothing but desire coming from both of them, the arousal so strong it made Dean’s entire body tingle.

Experimentally, Dean used his knees as leverage where they rested on the mattress as he lifted himself a few inches, then sunk down again, faster this time. He actually let out a gasp at the feeling of it, his hand gripping at the headboard to steady himself as he moved, feeling the bond flaring deliciously between them.

The moan that tore from Cas’ lips was absolutely gorgeous. The angel actually closed his eyes at it, too, throwing his head back as his back arched a little. Dean loved everything about that sight, and he really wanted to see it again.

“Someone’s enjoying this,” He chuckled, moving up and down one more time, a little slower this time as he watched Cas’ face for another reaction like that.

Cas didn’t even move his head to look at Dean again, another gasp and a broken moan leaving his mouth before he actually managed to speak. “This is… I indeed—” Dean twisted his hips, and Cas had to stop, his fingers tightening on Dean’s skin. Dean liked the thought that they would leave a mark. “I do…” Dean moved again, faster this time. Another moan from Cas, another smirk from Dean, “I do enjoy this.”

Well, that was really good to know.

Dean continued to move up and down on Cas lap, twisting his hips from time to time until he finally found that sweet, sweet spot that made his own back arch, that had him seeing stars between his eyelids. He changed angles then, leaning a little to his right so he could hit that spot every time, and _damn, did it feel fucking good._

Cas’ resolve to let Dean do everything faded eventually. He started thrusting up in just a matter of a few minutes, using his hands to pull Dean down to meet his own hips just at the right time.

“Fuck, Cas, you’re, ah…” Letting his head fall forward, Dean rested it beside Cas’, feeling the angel’s lips on the underside of his jaw. His hands moved to rest on the angel’s shoulders instead of the headboard. “Shit, you’re…Fuck, fuck, yes, ah... just like that, Cas...Oh, _fuck_.” Yeah, that was his prostate. His entire body tensed, and he howled as Cas began to hit it over and over again, making sure they were just the right angle as he thrust his hips up over and over again in time with Dean’s own movements, going as deep as he could and nailing Dean's protate every single time, “Fuck, right there, Cas... right, ah… right there, fuck…”

Cas’ lips dragged over his throat, teeth grazing the skin, teasing but not actually biting, and Dean was pretty sure he was going to die from the overwhelming pleasure cursing through his veins. He was getting closer and closer to the edge ridiculously fast, and he wasn’t even ashamed of it because this was just too fucking hot.

He actually came even faster than he’d thought. All it took was Cas hitting his prostate a handful more times and actually biting him on the shoulder for Dean to lose it, for his entire body to burst with the heat from his release, for the bond to go wild between them, lighting up with his ecstasy so much that Cas followed him right after, filling Dean with his own climax, flooding the human with his own pleasure. Dean smiled at the light that covered the room. He couldn’t get over just how beautiful it was to watch Cas come undone like that, losing himself so much that he actually lit up in his ecstasy.

Dean continued to move as they both climaxed, milking their orgasms for as long as he could, and even in his high Cas moved his hand up to grip Dean’s cock to pump it a few times as well, giving it attention for the first time, making Dean’s toes curl at the additional layer of pleasure that came from it.

They didn’t move when it was over. Their panting was all that could be heard in the room until Cas started to lightly kiss his neck again, just lazy brushes of his lips against the hunter’s skin. Dean sighed contently at the feeling, but soon his thighs began to burn because his position was still straining them, so he was forced to move.

Cas was already soft, so he slipped out of the hunter pretty easily, and yet it still got a gasp from Dean when it happened. He moved to the side to lay down on the bed, and Cas followed him, settling himself against Dean with his head resting on his favorite spot on the hunter’s chest, his nose nuzzling Dean’s throat. Vaguely Dean realized maybe they should clean up, but he couldn't find the will to move just yet.

Already feeling sleepy again, Dean turned his head to glance at his clock, finding that it was 7:17AM, a couple hours earlier than he usually got up. That kind of explained why he had felt tired when he’d first woken up; it had been before 7AM.

“You can go back to sleep, Dean,” Cas commented lowly, his stubble tickling Dean's skin as the angel's mouth moved to form the words, “I’m sorry I woke you so early. I… I wanted to see you.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at those words, placing a kiss to the top of Cas’ head in response. He felt warmth bloom in his chest, and he pulled Cas even closer. “I’m glad you did, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Cas kissed his throat in response.

Dean must have drifted off soon after that, because the next thing he knew was that he was alone on the bed, wearing his boxers again, and the mess that had been cooling on his stomach had been cleaned at some point. The clock told him it was already 10:04AM.

He briefly wondered if Cas waking him up had been a dream, but then he caught sight of Cas’ trench coat and suit on top of the laundry hamper on the corner, and he knew it had actually happened.

Smiling, he threw the soiled sheets into the hamper and got himself a fresh set of clothes so he could go off to take a shower and make himself a little more presentable. Cas might have cleaned him a little, but his skin felt weird and sticky from the dried sweat and he still felt a little gross.

He made a stop in the bedroom after the shower to pop one of his vitamins into his mouth before he went to eat something for a late breakfast, since Sam and Charlie would most likely be around while he was eating today.

Everyone was in the library, as he had imagined. He gave Charlie a welcome back hug, smiled at Cas and nodded at his brother, who barely glanced up at him before looking back down at the screen of his laptop. Dean found it a little weird, but chose to ignore it for now and proceeded to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. Deciding that there was no point in making pancakes since he would be the only one eating them, he just made himself some buttered toast and fried some eggs. When everything was done, he took his food and his mug of coffee of the day to the library, picking the seat next to Sam and across from Charlie and Cas at the table.

He started eating his breakfast while everyone had gone back to what they had been doing before he'd gotten here—Sam and Charlie fiddling with their laptops while Cas seemed to read through the three books that were open on the table before him, apparently comparing the texts, as his eyes flittered back and forth, jumping from page to page every few seconds. Dean had no idea what the books were about, though. From his seat he could tell they were some of the ones he and Sam couldn’t really read through because they were written in some dead, ancient language they had no hope to even manage to translate fast enough, so they left them for Cas to take a look, since he was the only one who could actually read them.

He couldn't see what Charlie was working on, so glanced over at Sam's screen just a minute after he'd sat down, finding that his brother was reading a text in what appeared to be Latin. "What's that about?" Dean asked, frowning as he tried to read it, but other languages had never been his forte. Sam was the one with the brains for those things.

Sam glanced at him for only a second before quickly turning his gaze away, like he regretted looking up at all. "It's, uh..." He cleared his throat, and Dean frowned. Sam was acting weird, almost uncomfortable, and Dean had no idea what was up with him. "Up until now nothing important, just a doctorade dissertation from a History professor on a few ancient texts some priests from the 14th century wrote on pre-biblical lore." Sam scrolled back up a little, and Dean could see a few paragraphs written in English as well. "It's mostly about ancient demonic lore, as he calls it. I was hoping for something on the Mark, but... None of this stuff is really accurate at all."

Well, that wasn't exactly a surprise.

He didn't bother Sam again after that, choosing instead to direct his attention to Cas.

 _You know what's up with him?_ he asked. This whole telepathy thing could really be useful sometimes.

Cas glanced up at him from his books, but neither one of the other two seemed to notice it. Cas glanced over at Sam for a second before meeting Dean's eyes again.  _He has been oddly quiet for the last entire hour. When I got here, Charlie seemed very amused, and Sam looked oddly uncomfortable. I... believe they might have heard us._

Oh.  _Oh._

Dean actually felt his face heating up a little as he finally realized what was going on, because it really was the only thing that made sense. They had been extremely careful with not making too much noise during sex before, but today had been different. They had been apart for a month, and maybe that had led them to being a little more vocal than normal, and apparently they might have been a little too loud.

Well, it had been bound to happen eventually. It was actually a surprise they had managed to spare Sam and Charlie's ears for this long.

The silence that followed sounded heavier to Dean's ears now that he knew why Sam looked so uncomfortable, so he decided he should probably try to ease the tension and start some family-friendly conversation between the four of them.

He nibbled on his toast a little and drank some of his coffee before he started, “So…” Everyone looked up at him then, “How is it going? The list?”

Dean didn’t miss the way Charlie glanced at Cas and then exchanged a look with Sam as he asked it.

“We’re not doing that anymore,” she replied, shaking her head lightly. “It’s true. There are just too many results. I’ll have to try and narrow it down even more.”

Well, that wasn’t news. The ridiculous amount of results had been the reason why Dean had believed this plan to be pointless from the start.

That had been what he and Cas had talked about the night the angel had left, anyway; about how neither of them had much confidence on the idea of going through all the towns in that list in some blind treasure hunt that might not even lead to anything, because Cas’ Grace might not even be in one of them to begin with. If Metatron had put wards around Cas' Grace, it wouldn’t do anything crazy to its surroundings, so maybe that whole idea was just a wild goose chase.

But Cas had been willing to give it a shot, more willing than Dean had been, and the hunter couldn’t help but wonder what had made the angel change his mind. Maybe his confidence had just wavered even more after visiting a few places from the list and not finding anything, but still, Dean was pretty sure something else must have happened. Cas hadn't seemed willing to just give up so easily; did not in any way intend to lose hope, as he'd said it himself.

“Well, so back to research, then?” The idea didn’t seem too good in his head, but at least it meant that Cas and Charlie were back to stay, and not that they would be leaving tomorrow or something.

“Actually,” Charlie shook her head once more, “I’m going to Tuscany. You know, to look for the Book of the Damned.”

Right, the book that may or may not have something on the Mark, and that Dean was finding hard to believe could have any of the answers they were looking for. That one might also be a pointless lead, really, because they didn’t even know if that book could be found at all. He still nodded lightly in response, though, because a lead was a lead anyway, and they really had to check everything.

It was better than that endless list, anyway.

“And I’m going to Illinois.”

"What?" Dean shifted his gaze to Cas, frowning at the angel. “Why?” he asked, not managing to conjure up a reason why Cas needed to go there. Charlie’s list and the Book of the Damned were the only leads they had to follow, weren’t they? 

Cas held his gaze, but let out a breath, like a tired exhale. Dean just waited for an answer, his frown insistent in his eyebrows. He saw Sam shift beside him and he wasn’t sure what that was about. Maybe it meant that Sam already knew about this. Dean already had a bad feeling about all of it, if Cas’ hesitation to speak was anything to go by.

“I found a trail that might lead to Cain.”

Dean ignored the way the Mark perked up at the mere mention of Cain’s name, his forearm already beginning to burn.  He resisted the urge to scratch the skin of his arm he asked, “A trail?”

“A demon, actually. He was slaughtering families in North Carolina. He directed me to a town in Illinois where I might find another demon who might know where Cain is.”

Dean shook his head, because that didn’t seem too promising. There were just too many ‘might’s in those sentences.

Also, there was just something about Cas going after Cain on his own that made Dean worry. “You want me and Sam to join you? Maybe it’ll be easier to track Cain down in three.” And it would ease Dean’s mind, too, because having Cas and Cain anywhere near each other was definitely not something Dean wanted have happening. Cain was scary dude, and also a little unstable, not to mention that a Knight of Hell was a little too much for a seraph to handle, especially one with borrowed Grace.

This sounded like a very, very bad idea.

“No, Dean, there's no need. I’ll be fine.” Because of course he should have expected that answer from Cas.

“Cas, this is _Cain_. Maybe it would be better for us to come with you.” _Please,_ Dean wanted to say, but he held the word on his tongue, trapped it in his mouth before it could jump out, instead projecting it with his mind.

“Dean, you should not be anywhere near Cain right now, not when we don’t know why he disappeared, what he’s been doing.” The words were all but sighed out, Cas’ eyes growing heavier, almost pleading for him not to argue, "We don't know how the Mark might react."

“Oh, but you can?” Dean wasn’t aware the words would come out so bitter, but they did. He couldn’t help it, though. Dean just didn’t see how Cas risking his life here would do them any good. In fact, this whole thing could go terribly, terribly wrong, and he knew Cas was aware of it. “Cas, I don’t have a good feeling about this. You can’t just…”

“I’m not going to fight Cain, Dean. I want to talk to him, and that’s it."

Dean shook his head again, refusing to accept this. "Cas..."

“Dean, I... I think Cas is right.” Turning his head, Dean fixed his brother a glare, which Sam promptly ignored. “I mean, I don't like this either, but... we’re not looking for a fight. He’ll just try to talk to Cain.”

Rubbing his eyes, Dean let out a sigh. He wasn’t happy about this. He didn’t like it one bit. He had a terrible feeling about this whole thing, and the way the Mark kept burning in his arm at the mere thought of Cain wasn’t helping him at all. The Mark was happy, for fuck’s sake, and this could not mean anything good, of course it couldn’t. Why couldn’t Cas just agree with him?

Another breath left his lips, this one heavier, and somehow he managed to make the Mark quiet down a bit. “You think he could actually help us, though? He might know something, true, but would he even tell us if he did?”

The silence that followed the question wasn’t promising at all. No, it was heavy and laced with meaning, with doubt, which only made Dean feel even less confident about everything they were considering, the rock of worry sitting in his stomach feeling even heavier than before. much more solid. The grumbling of the Mark grew louder again, and this time Dean found that he couldn’t quite push it away.

It was Sam who answered it, his voice low and a little too hesitant. “We’ll only know if we try to talk to him, Dean.”

That wasn’t the answer Dean had been wishing to hear.

***~*~*~*~***

Charlie stayed just one day in the Bunker before she was off to Italy. Cas stayed three days, and then he left as well, but not before Dean all but begged him a thousand times to be careful with Cain. Dean wanted more than anything to go with him, but the angel was way too stubborn on that one. Not even Sam was taking his side on this, so Dean had had no other choice but to let Cas go off on his own.

The next days passed slowly, a cloud of worry constantly hanging over Dean’s head. He would check his phone every few minutes, wouldn’t go anywhere without it, waiting impatiently for a text or a call from Cas. Whenever the angel’s name flashed on the screen, it was like a few hundred pounds had been lifted off his shoulders, only to be placed there again soon after as the seemingly endless cycle of waiting and worrying until the next time he heard from Cas started once more.

It was maddening.

Sam also seemed a little worried about Cas’ idea of going after Cain alone, but he didn’t have such a bad reaction to it, at least not as bad as Dean’s. He actually tried to reason with Dean a few times, repeating that Cas was just going to talk to Cain, nothing else. Dean knew his brother noticed just how freaked out he was, how worried he was about Cas, and while Dean knew those conversations had the intetion of making him feel better, Sam didn’t directly comment on Dean's anxiety at all, and for that Dean was glad.

Dean threw himself into his research even more than before, spending pretty much all of his waking hours spread over a book or reading articles online, but none of that seemed to be leading him anywhere. He grew more frustrated by the day, the lack of results getting to him a lot more than ever, but it wasn’t like he could actually do something to change that.

Sam, fortunately, did not show up with a new case or something to occupy their minds, probably because he did not want a repeat of what had happened in Iowa, even though he didn’t even know what that had been exactly. Dean knew Sam had been bothered about his freak out, and mostly curious, but Sam hadn’t brought up the subject at all, much to Dean’s relief.

That routine of constant research changed soon, however. One day, just about a week after Cas had left to go after Cain, Dean’s phone beeped with a new text message, but instead of seeing Cas’ name on his screen as he had been expecting to see, his phone told him that who had sent him the text had been Crowley.

Frowning in confusion, and maybe a little curious because this certainly was unusual, Dean opened it.

**Received Apr 18th, 2015, 11:23AM – Tommy Tolliver.**

***~*~*~*~***

So, as it turns out, Cas did find Cain, and so did Sam and Dean.

Crowley’s text had led them to stumbling upon what at first had looked like a case. Dean and Sam had decided to check on Tommy Tolliver’s mysterious disappearing act in West Livingston, Texas, because while there had been some sort of silent, unspoken agreement between the brothers about not working any cases for the time being, not after what had happened in Iowa, Crowley must have sent them this one for a reason.

Dean had had to ignore the feeling of dread that had crawled into his stomach because of it, though, because he knew that he would not be able to bear another scare like the one he'd had back in Iowa. He'd promised himself that all they would do was check out what this case was about, but if he saw any sign of danger at all, he would bail. He had never done that before, had never simply walked out of an unfinished job, but he knew that this one might very well be the first one.

What they hadn’t expected to find out once they got to Texas, however, was that the reason for the disappearing had been Cain.

Cain had been the one to break Tolliver out of his cell. Dean had recognized the Knight the moment he’d seen the footage from the security cameras, feeling the Mark flaring up in his arm as soon as the realization had struck him. Meanwhile, Cas had found Tolliver’s final destination: an empty field where dozens upon dozens of people from all ages were buried, all murdered by the hands of the Knight himself, including Tolliver.

Cas had talked to Cain, apparently, and Dean could not even begin to describe just how much the thought of the angel questioning Cain made him uneasy, because a seraph in Cas’ state could easily be killed by a Knight of Hell.

But Cain had let Cas walk away, and the angel had come straight to the Bunker after the encounter, where Sam and Dean had been doing their own research, quickly learning that Tommy hadn’t been the only one to disappear in the family. His father, Leon Tolliver, had been missing for a week.

And that wasn’t all. A little more research told them that Cain was literally killing entire families, one after the other—his bloodline, as he’d called them, according to Cas. After learning that, Cas had tried to call Gabriel in hope that maybe the archangel would be able to help stop Cain. Henry had mentioned that the archangels had the power to kill Knights of Hell, and while they had learned later on that Cain had been the one to kill the other Knights, archangels were still really freaking strong, so it was still worth a shot.

But Gabriel did not answer the call, and his lack of response meant that Cain would probably soon get to Tommy's son, Austin Reynolds, a 12-year-old who lived with his mother in Ohio.

Surprisingly, though, that wasn't exactly the main issue at the moment.

“He seems convinced the world needs to be rid of his bloodline, or a tenth of it, as he claimed,” Cas explained, his expression changing into something heavier as he spoke, letting his eyes meet Dean’s, the look in them hard to read. “He… told me he would come after you, Dean.”

Dean could feel the air in the Men of Letters library shift at those words, heavy and loaded with tension all of a sudden. He held Sam’s eyes first, reading the worried look in his brother’s eyes, filled with a silent question about what exactly they were going to do about all of this, waiting for Dean’s reaction.

And then there was Cas’ gaze, heavy and almost sorrowful, and Dean could easily see the hint of panic in them. There was clearly just so much the angel wanted to say right then but couldn’t, because Sam was still right there.

Dean immediately knew what the only option here was, the normal one, the rational one; the one he’d instantly jump to under other circumstances. Cain was going on a killing spree, and Dean was the only one who could end it, who could use the only thing there was on this Earth that could stop a Knight of Hell. Gabriel wasn't answering, and they didn't even know for sure if he could deal with Cain, so Dean was the only one who could do it.

Cain would be coming after him, anyway, and someone had to put a stop to the Knight before this got too out of hand.

But then again, this wasn’t that simple. Because while Dean was the only one who could stop Cain, what would the cost be? Just how much power would that give the Mark? The Mark was still trying to kill the nephilim, and an energy boost was the last thing they should give it.

But if he didn’t go after Cain, what would happen if the Knight found him instead? The demon was erasing bloodlines. What if…?

He couldn’t even let in that thought.

So that was why he knew he had suggest it; why this was the only viable course of action that was clear in Dean’s mind as he ran his hand over his stubble and paced around the room, lost in his own head. He knew what had to be done, what should be done, what only he could do to stop Cain, but he couldn’t even think about what that could cost him.

And they knew where Cain was going next. The little boy in Ohio had been alive two hours ago, according to his Facebook page, but that probably wouldn’t last for too long. Cain would go after the boy, they knew that for sure. This was their shot, and probably the only chance they would have before the demon disappeared on them again, and how many people would die until they managed to track him again? Who knew what he would do after that? What would be the size of the damage then?

“Dean?”

Looking up, Dean found Cas’ gaze again, those pleading eyes that showed nothing but true understanding, but that were also underlined with so much panic the hunter felt a heavy, shaky breath escaping his lips just at the sight of it. Cas knew what he was thinking, what he was weighing in his mind, of course he did, and that didn’t make the decision any easier.

“We’ll go save the kid,” Dean finally breathed out.

“And how do you plan on doing that, Dean?” Sam inquired, turning his body on his chair so he could face Dean fully, a look of disbelief taking over his features.

"We'll try to talk to Cain first." Even Dean couldn't ignore the lack of confidence in his words, but he said them anyway. "And if that doesn't work..." It hurt to even think about it, but he forced his voice not to waver, held back the nausea that was suddenly trying to crawl its way up his throat as best as he could.

Sam shook his head at him, looking like he was finding it hard to believe what he was hearing. “You’re not fit for a fight like this, Dean. Don't you remember what happened to you after that case just a few weeks ago? This would be so much worse, whatever that was.”

And just like that Dean felt his entire body tense up, because Sam just _had_ to bring that up with Cas right there, he just had to…

“Case?”

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes as he took in a steadying breath, because he could hear it in Cas’ voice—the surprise, the hint of reprehension, coated with something very close to anger, but that wasn’t quite it. The conversation Dean had been doing everything he could to avoid would be coming pretty soon, no matter what he did now.

Damn it, Sammy.

“I’m the only one who can stop him,” Dean let out, shaking his head and hearing the pleading in his own voice, “Gabriel's not answering, and if he hasn't already then he probably won't show at all. He's going to kill a freaking _kid_ , Sam, and he won't stop after Austin. I have to do this.” He waited a beat for his words to sink in before he turned to leave, his mind already set on packing and getting ready to leave for Ohio, but of course his brother would still call out after him.

“Dean…”

Dean paused, turning around so he could meet Sam’s eyes, realizing that his brother had stood up from his chair. Cas hadn't moved at all, and Dean did everything not to meet the angel's eyes. “Sammy, please..." He shook his head, voice pleading, "Don’t.” He left without another word, walking out of the room without another glance back. He knew Cas would follow him, knew they would have to talk still, but that conversation definitely didn’t need an audience, so he just waited for the angel to show up as he hauled his duffel onto their bed.

 _Their_ bed. When exactly had he started thinking of this room as theirs, and not his? He wasn’t sure.

He barely got anything inside the bag before he was interrupted.

“Dean.”

Dean paused at the sound of Cas’ voice coming from behind him, by the door. He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing in and out once, trying to at least prepare himself a little for what was coming now.

Slowly, he turned around.

Cas’ face was hard to read. His entire expression was troubled, his eyes heavy and intense, but the actual emotions involved were very hard to identify. There was worry, panic, anger, surprise—it was all mingled together in there, and suddenly Dean felt his resolve deflating, the need to just hunch in on himself washing over his entire body, because all he wanted to do in that moment was to make it all go away from Cas’ eyes, make it all better and get that terrible look off the angel’s face.

The door was closed behind the angel, and Dean couldn't help but swallow drily at the sight of it. He could already tell this wasn't going to be pretty.

Shaking his head weakly, Dean began, “Cas…”

“You went on a case.” The words were strong and sharp, Cas' voice almost harsh, but at the same time there was a small tremble to it that had Dean wanting to step closer to the angel, to reach out and wrap him in his arms. He didn't, though. “Dean, we talked about hunting. You know the size of the risk, and yet you still went on a _case_.”

“I know, Cas, I know, I shouldn’t have gone.” Dean had already reached that conclusion on his own, and had actually spent several nights just staring up at the ceiling, mulling over the fact that he might have come terribly close to hurting the baby. “Sam was insisting, and I couldn’t tell him why I couldn’t go, so I had to agree. It was supposed to be just a quick haunting job, just a salt and burn, but then it wasn’t and I…” His throat felt clogged up, and he let the words die on his tongue. He was pretty sure Cas had already gotten the gist of it, anyway.

“Sam said you were acting off after the hunt.” There was a shift in Cas’ voice then. It lost its edge without a warning, growing instead into something more filled with worry, a plea mingling in with his words. “He thinks something happened that you are not telling him. That you’re hiding something from him, although all he can think of is that the Mark is worse than you are letting on.”

Well, of course that would be the first conclusion Sam would reach on his own. Dean decided that would have to stay that way for the time being. At least he wouldn't need to come up with something else to tell his brother for now.

Dean swallowed drily, once more reminded of the raw panic he’d felt after the hunt, after being shoved around by the damn ghost, of the sharp pain on his side that had all sorts of terrifying scenarios running through his head.

“I got tossed around,” Dean forced the words out of his mouth, watching Cas’ reaction closely. The worry seemed to heighten at that, but the hunter continued before the angel could comment, “I had this pain on my side, and I was so freaking terrified that I had…” His throat felt clogged again, his tongue heavy, but he just swallowed and kept going, looking down and away from Cas, deciding maybe it would be easier to get the words out without seeing the intense look in Cas' eyes. “I called Gabriel and he came. He said everything was fine, but that it had been a pretty big risk, and all I could think about was what I would do if I had…”

A pair of strong arms were around him in a second, and Dean was startled by it at first, because he hadn’t heard Cas move at all. He eased himself into the warm, soothing embrace nonetheless, closing his eyes and tucking his head into the crook of Cas’ neck as the angel held him.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Cas whispered, holding Dean tightly against him, even if Dean was bigger, the embrace was still comforting, “I mean it, Dean. You have no idea just how big of a risk you put yourself and our child through.”

Dean nodded tightly, swallowing drily, because he _knew_. “Cas, I know. I… I don’t ever want to feel that kind of fear again.”

Cas pulled away then, and to Dean’s surprise, the angel shook his head at him, his eyes heavy with something Dean could not quite understand, found it pretty much impossible to read clearly. It look almost sad, or maybe regretful, Dean wasn't sure. “Dean, the physical danger of a case is not the only issue about you going hunting.”

Dean frowned, giving Cas a confused look, because that had been all that Gabriel had mentioned back in Absarokee—that he should avoid getting tossed around as much as possible. What else could there be for him to worry about other than the fact that he could very easily hurt his little embryo?

Cas sighed, looking like he was having trouble with his words somehow, or at least hesitating to speak, which only made Dean all the more confused. “Gabriel did not tell you everything that day at the cabin.”

Dean paused, leaning away from Cas a little more so he could have a better look at the angel’s face. “What did he not tell me?” He already had a very, very bad feeling about this. This was not in any way normal behavior for the angel, and whatever had Cas acting like this definitely could not be good.

“The Mark is trying to kill the nephilim, you know that already,” Dean nodded tightly, because that very fact had been haunting his thoughts for weeks now, “But it cannot do it while you’re bonded to me, at least not while my Grace still has the strength to fight it.”

“Yeah, I know that, Cas.”

Cas swallowed visibly, his eyes growing even heavier, if that was even possible. “And yet, the Mark is still trying in other ways, Dean. And right now, the easiest way…” He closed his eyes, letting out a heavy, strained breath. It actually looked painful. “Your body will only be ready to birth the nephilim when it's time, Dean, so the easiest way for the Mark to harm you is to make you go into early labor.”

Dean paused, taking a while for the words to really sink in, even managing to ignore the dreading curiosity that filled his mind all of a sudden, because this was the first time Cas was addressing the actual labor, which Dean had honestly not thought about since that day at the cabin, when he'd asked Gabriel about it. He pushed that entire train of thought away, because this just wasn't the time.

Early labor? But hadn’t Cas just said his body wouldn’t be ready for that until it was time? Was that even freaking possible, considering he wasn’t a woman? Could that even…?

Oh.

“And I’m guessing the fact that I’m a guy makes it even more complicated, doesn't it?”

Cas nodded, the movement slow and almost grim. “Your body was not built to ever go into labor, and it won’t be ready for it until it is the right time. An early labor would… would be very complicated to stop because you’re a male, and the damage could be done very quickly. Not only to the nephilim, but to you. If the Mark manages to make you miscarry, you…” Another heavy swallow, “You both die.”

Closing his eyes, Dean lifted his hand to run it over his scruff once more. A sinking feeling settled onto his stomach, because this whole situation was a true freaking nightmare. Every damn thing was working against them, and he was starting to feel suffocated from all of it. Once more the hatred for the Mark lit up in his belly, and he had to actually resist the urge to try to scratch the damn thing of his arm with his nails.

“What would let the Mark do that?”

“Anything that could give it power—murder, any burst of adrenaline, like on a hunt, or getting thrown around, stress…” He leaned forward then, touching Dean’s forehead with his, “Taking on Cain.”

Dean knew Cas had a point then, he knew this was dangerous, and much more than he had originally thought, he now realized. But didn’t Cas get it? Couldn’t he see it too? “Cas, Cain’s not going to stop.”

“Dean, you can’t possibly be willing to—”

“I don’t _want_ to do this, Cas. Believe me, this is the last thing I want to do.” Shaking his head, he took in a deep breath, already feeling his heart speeding up in his chest. “But I don’t really have a choice here, Cas. Cain said he’d come after me, and he’s wiping out entire bloodlines. You know what that means.”

Because it was clear in Dean’s head; couldn't be more obvious. Cain wasn’t just killing random people. He had a list, and just like he had done with Leon, he would wipe out all the descendants he could find, anyone who came from the same bloodline. Which meant that if Cain was coming after Dean…

“He won’t stop with me, Cas. Even if we wait, he’ll still…” _He’ll_ _come after our child._ He didn’t say it out loud, didn’t even project it mentally, but the way Cas looked down and closed his eyes told Dean that the angel still heard it perfectly. “I can’t just…” The words didn't want coming out right, his voice eventually dying out in his throat. He couldn’t even think about it, of Cain going after their child after it was born, of him…

No. He wouldn’t let that happen. It wouldn’t come to that, and Dean would do everything he could to make sure of it.

“We’ll talk to him first; we had planned to do that anyway. Ask about the Mark and try to put some sense into his head, but if it comes to it, Cas…” He shook his hair, letting out yet another sigh as he felt his own confidence wavering, his voice losing strength as he spoke, “I don’t want to do this. This is the last thing I want to do, Cas, you know that, but we can’t just leave it to chance. After tonight we won't know where Cain is anymore. He'll kill the kid and who knows how many more people until we find him again, if we can do that at all. We can't just wait for him to come after me, to catch us off guard, or wait until I don't have the Mark anymore and can't do anything to stop him. We can’t just ignore the fact that Cain might come for…”

Cas nodded, his eyes remaining closed, looking like he could barely manage to movement. The angel looked like he was in physical pain somehow, but Dean knew that wasn’t quite it, although it did felt like it for him too. He could almost feel it—the pain in his chest, stabbing right into his heart, at the mere thought of Cain coming after their child, of him ever laying a freaking hand on their little _baby_ …

A shaky breath escaped Cas' lips as the angel leaned forward, resting his head against Dean’s chest, and the hunter pulled him in, wrapping his arms around the seraph’s smaller form. This was one of those rare times when Cas actually did let something slip through the bond—a feeling of outright panic washed over Dean, and while he was feeling that exact same way about this situation, he knew what he was feeling was not coming only from himself.

“It’s going to be fine, Cas,” Dean whispered, his words wavering as his voice had practically no strength to it. “We’re going to be fine.”

Dean really wished he could believe it, though.

At some point Cas pulled away, sitting down onto the edge of Dean’s bed as the hunter continued to pack whatever he thought he might need into his duffel. The air in the room was tense, loaded in a way that had his skin crawling with the need to say something, although he had no idea if there even was something he could say that could make this situation better in any way. It felt like there was a dark cloud hovering over their heads, turning everything into shades of gray, announcing nothing but doom in their future, and Dean could not quite shake that feeling off, no matter how many times he tried.

The Mark was more active, too, having started to make itself known at the single thought of being near the Blade, of encountering Cain. It had been itching and burning since Dean had seen that tape, but now the thing was actually awake, grumbling and pacing around like a caged animal, rattling its chains and eager to just get out, to be let free to do as it pleased, thirsting for blood of the Father of Murder himself.

It made Dean feel sick to his stomach, and he had to actually take a break to throw up once. His morning sickness hadn’t yet gone away, and it seemed it liked to make itself known whenever he got too nervous.

When he came back to the room, Cas was still just sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture oddly stiff, his back completely erect. His eyes were a little unfocused, and he actually looked to be in some sort of a trance. It was actually a little unsettling.

Dean decided to give the angel space, because he definitely looked like he needed it.

The hunter actually managed it for a little while, but at one point he just couldn’t take the heavy, lingering silence anymore “Cas?” Dean asked, eyeing the angel carefully, unsure of how he should be acting right then. It was almost like Cas wasn't even in his body anymore, having left behind just an empty, frozen vessel that could do nothing more than just stare into empty space. Honestly, it was getting pretty freaky really fast and Dean didn’t like it at all.

“I called Gabriel again.” Cas turned his eyes to Dean then, and there was a heaviness in them that made Dean feel terrible. There was also resignation in them, though, which told him that while Cas didn’t like this idea, he knew that they had to do it. He hated every second of this but knew that they had no other option.

Dean felt pretty much the same way, to be honest.

He nodded numbly, pausing his packing. “Do you think he’ll show?” Dean wasn't really confident about it, but he could see why Cas would be hopeful, why he would be trying again.

But they couldn’t exactly wait for him. The kid’s life was on a countdown here, and the more they waited, the more people Cain would kill, the more time Cain would have to vanish again.

“I don’t know. He did not answer again,” Cas replied, his voice weak and lost, like all the fight had just left him. It just sounded so wrong it was actually painful.

Dean could tell Cas wanted to hang on to the hope that Gabriel might show, and if he was honest, he wanted to do it too. They had to go to Ohio now, couldn't wait for Gabriel to decide to answer Cas' call, but maybe the archangel would show before an actual fight took place.

He knew he shouldn’t just hope for that, but Dean couldn’t help it. It certainly seemed a lot more possible than them managing to convince Cain to stop killing people, anyway.

Dean wasn’t sure how to respond to the comment, so he just didn’t, and Cas didn’t seem to be expecting a reply anyway. So Dean decided to just finish packing in silence and let Cas be. The silence grew even heavier, but neither of them seemed willing to break it.

Once the bag was ready, Dean made a call to Crowley, asking for the First Blade, because even though using the damn thing was truly the last thing Dean wanted to do, even if he was still feeding the hope in his chest that maybe he wouldn't need to fight Cain at all, he knew it would be stupid to go after Cain without it. But as Dean knew Crowley would not be happy about giving him the Blade, he had to lie to demon about Cain’s list and tell Crowley that he was on it, or else the demon would probably not be willing to help them. Crowley bought it, of course, and agreed to meet them in Ohio.

Dean was just about to walk out of the room with Cas, his body feeling oddly numb as he moved, when he paused just outside of the door, suddenly remembering something. He had thought about this when he'd left the safety of the Bunker with Sam to check out the case in Texas, but he had dropped the idea right after. Now, however, for some reason he just couldn’t push the thought away like he had before.

“Just one more thing,” Dean said as he turned back around and walked back into the room, feeling Cas’ eyes on him all the way from the doorway as he walked over to the bed. Without another word, he lowered his body in front of the small bedside table on his side of the bed, pulling open the top drawer and picking up a small item from inside.

Dean spun the small talisman Gabriel had given them around in his hand, eyeing it carefully, just like he'd done all the other times he had picked it up. “How long before Heaven can sense me?”

“Not long,” came Cas’ response from beside him, and the hunter looked up in surprise, because he hadn’t seen or heard Cas moving. It wasn't the first time today, and Dean wondered how it was happening, why his mind felt so detached all of a sudden. He had no idea. “They should not be able to do it yet, although… It is a risk already.”

Dean nodded numbly, because he had figured it out as much. During the entire time he had been out of the Bunker with Sam this past week, he had felt this weird itch under his skin, the thought that maybe Heaven could already sense the nephilim insistent in the forefront of his mind. He hadn’t been able to shut down that train of thought at all during the past few days, hadn't quite manage to swallow down the worry that came with it.

He couldn't help but think back to how Gabriel had showed up in Spencer after Dean had prayed to him, about what he’d said about wanting to help Cas. He had seemed honest then, and while Dean still didn’t completely trust him, while Dean was still feeling bothered that the archangel hadn't yet shown up here tonight, he didn’t see why Gabriel would want to screw them over after everything that he'd done for them in the past few weeks. He really had done nothing but help them so far, and maybe, even after all the terrible things he’d done over the years, maybe, just maybe, they could trust him with this, could trust this amulet to actually work.

Rising back slowly to his feet, Dean asked, “Did you figure out the writing?”

“Some of it is Enochian. However, there are fragments even I cannot translate. But from what I can understand…” The angel shook his head lightly, his eyes running over the inscriptions on the small wooden object resting on Dean's palm, “I do not think it could bring you or our child any harm, Dean.”

Well, that was as good as it would get, Dean supposed. Nodding once more, he hesitated for a moment before making up his mind and lifting the chord of the amulet, looping it around his head like a necklace and letting it settle around his neck, the wooden piece falling into his shirt, where it was hidden from sight.

“Let’s go,” he announced, and Cas nodded in response, apparently having chosen not to make any comment on the fact that Dean had finally agreed to wear the talisman.

Back in the Bunker library, Sam had apparently been pacing around the room. Dean had been wondering why his brother hadn’t gone try to talk him out of this whole thing with Cas, and Dean could only assume that either Cas had asked him not to so they could talk in private or Sam had sent Cas thinking the angel alone would be able to convince him.

Sam paused when he caught sight of the pair emerging from the hallway, looking merely curious until his gaze fell on the duffel Dean was carrying. “You’re still going?” He sounded surprised, giving Dean a disbelieving look for only a moment before his eyes jumped to Cas, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Yeah, definitely the second one.

“Yeah, I’m going," Dean answered before Cas could say anything, "And don’t try to talk me out of this, Sam. I have to do this, you know that.”

Sam shook his head, turning to look back at Dean. “Dean, you can’t—”

“He needs to do this, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly before he frowned, turning back to Cas once more. He looked even more surprised than before. “Cas, you can’t possibly be okay with this.”

Cas’ face gave away pretty easily that he was not, in any way, okay with this, not even in the slightest. Dean could see it clearly, and he was sure his brother could too. Still, the angel shook his head, his eyes not once leaving Sam's, his voice filled with a conviction not even Dean himself had in that moment. “It does not matter how we feel about this. Cain will not stop. And Dean…” He turned to look at Dean then, the look in the angel’s eyes much heavier and holding so much more meaning than Sam could possibly comprehend. But Dean got it; he understood the unspoken words the angel could not say out loud in that moment, and he nodded lightly in encouragement, in silent agreement; whatever it was that Cas might be seeking of him in that moment. “We’ve called Gabriel, but he has not answered, and his silence makes me believe he will not respond." The last words sounded bitter to Dean's ears, and maybe a little disappointed. "This is the only chance we have. Dean is the only one who can stop Cain, and we can't wait.”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue. He stood there for almost a full minute, his eyes dancing from Dean to Cas, flitting back and forth between them, like he wasn’t sure which one he should yell at, which one he felt more betrayed by. Finally, though, much to Dean’s relief, he relented with a heavy sigh, shaking his head and clenching his jaw in a way that clearly told Dean he wasn’t happy with this either.

“Fine,” he breathed out, “If that’s what you want to do, then fine. We’ll… go to Ohio.”

Dean breathed out a sigh of relief that for some reason only made him feel heavier.

***~*~*~*~***

All that was left for them to do was wait.

The plan was set up. Everyone knew what their positions should be at what time, and everything had been talked through enough times. All they could do now was watch fake-Austin play with his basketball in the barn and wait for Cain to show up.

And Gabriel, but Dean was pretty sure he wasn’t coming. If he was, he would have been here already. Cas had called him for the first time days ago, so apparently the archangel didn’t care about Cas as much as he had said he did. It did seem weird, though, because Gabriel had answered Dean's call in Spencer pretty fast. Dean couldn't help but wonder if something had happened to him, but they had no way to know if it had.

So waiting was exactly what Dean did. He just stood there, watching the illusion of the kid throw his ball around the barn from a window on the wall that separated the main area of the barn from an adjacent room. The kid looked exactly like the real Austin would, who was now on a train to a town three states over with his mother. It looked pretty real, so much it might actually work. Dean had to give it to Crowley—or his mother, apparently—for the spell, Rune of Amaranth or whatever he had called it.

“You okay?”

Dean snapped his head to the side, finding Sam walking over to where he was. He eyed his brother for a moment before turning his head back to the image of the boy he could see through the dirty glass of the window, shaking his head lightly. “No.” There was no point in lying.

“You don’t have to do this, Dean. We can find another way. Just… say the word, and we’ll call this whole thing off.”

“We can’t call it off, Sammy,” Dean shook his head again, still not taking his eyes off the illusion. “We just can’t.”

“Dean, there's always another way.” At last Dean turned his head to look at Sam again, finding an almost eager look in his brother's eyes. 

“Don’t,” he let out, the sound coming out low and a little weaker than he’d intended, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, not with what was looming on the horizon for him right now. “Please, Sam, just don’t.” He couldn't feed his hope; couldn't allow it to grow only to have it crushed to pieces. This was already hard enough as it was.

Sam ignored him, though. "Maybe we can... I don't know, cure Cain or something. If he's human, we can control him."

Dean couldn't help but huff at that. "Do you really think that would work?" he asked, letting the disdain flow freely into his voice, because honestly, he knew it wouldn't. Cain had been a Knight of Hell for way too long, thousands of years, and he also had the Mark. Dean was pretty sure a simple blood spell would not be enough to cure Cain. They couldn't lock him up either, because keeping a Knight of Hell trapped was definitely not easy, Sam knew that better than anyone, and it would without a doubt not end well. Dean could see no other option here.

Sam shook his head lightly, and Dean knew his brother was thinking the exact same thing.

Another pause, and Dean went back to watching the illusion. For some reason the sound of the basketball hitting the floor sounded way louder than it had before to Dean's ears. It didn't brother him, though.

"Dean..."

Dean turned to Sam once more, a little startled by the sudden sound, and maybe he should not have been as surprised as he was to see such a heavy sorrowful, pleading look on his brother’s face, but he was. It was painful to look at it, his heart clenching at the sight as the knowledge that he was the reason for that echoed loudly inside his head. But apparently this was what he did; he made the people around him feel these things, made them suffer, made them worry. Sam wouldn’t be almost killing himself every day with his research, Cas would not be on the verge of death, his freaking child would not be fighting for its life without even being properly formed yet, if he hadn’t been stupid enough to take on this Mark.

Sam looked at the illusion then, his jaw clenching that way it always did when he was nervous or anxious about something, when there was something on his mind he didn’t know how to deal with, words he wasn't sure how to voice. “Dean, you don’t plan on… This fight, you don’t just…”

It took a beat for Dean to know what Sam wanted to say. And when it did dawn on him, Dean was actually surprised by it, because honestly, he hadn’t thought about it at all. And deep down he knew were the circumstances different, he would be thinking just that, would be wondering if this would be the one fight he wasn’t going to walk away from.

Because there was going to be a fight, deep down Dean knew that. He was still foolishly feeding the tiny sliver hope inside his chest that maybe they might be able to force some sense into Cain, but he knew that wouldn't happen, and he was sure all the others knew it too.

But this couldn’t be his last fight. If the situation were any different, he might have other opinion on this whole thing, he would maybe even be glad that maybe this nightmare would be over tonight, but he wasn’t, because this night could not end that way.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head weakly. “Honestly, a few weeks ago, I would tell you that yeah, I was considering it; that I was just happy that at least I would go down swinging, but tonight…” Dean swallowed, glancing back at the boy, imagining his own kid playing with a ball someday, for the first time wondering if it would be a boy or a girl, although it really wouldn’t make a difference for him. And surprisingly, those thoughts weren’t as overwhelming as they should be. What was overwhelming was the desire for that to happen, for his kid to have the freaking chance to play like that, to grow, to be  _born_ _._

And to make that happen, he had to walk out of this fight; he had to _win_ this fight.

Looking back up at Sam, Dean felt the words on the tip of his tongue, and it would be so easy to tell his brother that he had a reason to want to live now; two, really—Cas and their child, growing inside of him right in that moment. Their lives depended on him surviving this. But if there was such a thing as terrible timing it was that moment right then, so Dean held the words back before he could say them, settling instead for, “I have to do this, Sam, and I have to walk out of this fight. I have to. I just do.”

It was as close to the truth as he could get without sharing too much.

But he made a note to himself right then, that when this night was over, when Cain was dealt with, Dean would finally man up and tell his brother about the nephilim. He had already waited long enough, he realized that now. Sam deserved to know, and Dean would feel so much better if his brother actually understood what exactly he was feeling right then, would feel so much lighter when the weight off this secret was finally taken off of his shoulders.

He didn’t look back at his brother after he said it, and Sam didn’t respond. Dean knew Sam understood half of what he'd meant, anyway, because to Sam Cas' life was the only other on the line here. That wasn't the whole truth, but that already seemed to be enough to make Sam believe Dean did actually plan on living tonight.

They were silent for what felt like hours after that, just standing by the window watching the illusion play around with the ball, a heavy silence hanging over them like a dark cloud, although different from what had happened with Cas back in the Bunker. This seemed less loaded than that, probably because Sam wasn’t quite aware of the entire situation, of precisely just how much was at stake here tonight.

They didn’t have to wait for too long.

Cain showed up before the sun was up. Dean had felt the Mark flaring up in his arm without a warning, even more than it had been already the moment Crowley had appeared here with Blade but refused to give it to Dean until it was show time. The grumbling coming from the Mark was still incoherent but much louder and angrier than it had been before, the burning that came from it almost unbearable, feeling like it might just melt his skin right off his arm.

“He’s here,” Dean said to Sam, gritting his teeth as his hand shot up to grip at his arm, and then everyone was moving.

Crowley made the illusion walk out of the barn, and Cain had taken the bait. Then Cas tried to slow down Cain a little, and Dean had actually felt it when the angel was thrown to the side like he was nothing, Cas’ Grace whining in protest at the power Cas had used to try to harm Knight at least just a little.

And then Cain was in the barn stabbing the illusion, quickly realizing the whole thing had been a setup. The Knight hadn’t seemed all that surprised, though, nor had he looked impressed. He had merely pointed out the fact that the Devil’s Trap they had drawn on the barn’s floor would not hold him there for long, but they had known that already.

He wouldn’t have to stay in there for long, anyway.

“Cas?” Dean asked as he watched the angel all but limp toward where he, Sam and Crowley already were. He couldn’t feel much coming from the bond right now, not with the Mark being so loud, and he hated the feeling.

“I’m fine,” Cas insisted, although he looked anything but. “Did it work?”

“He’s trapped,” Sam assured him.

Dean nodded tightly, his entire body tense with anticipation, because he knew what this meant. They were all here for a reason, and it was time for it now. “My turn.” He turned to Crowley then, waiting, because the demon had told him that he would give Dean the Blade once Cain was trapped.

Crowley reached into his suit and slowly pulled out the very thing Dean’s body had been asking for during the past few months; the exact thing the Mark had been grumbling and begging for, thirsting for even—the First Blade.

Taking a breath, Dean held out his hand, waiting.

But Crowley didn’t give it to him. No, instead, he held it to the right, where another hand grabbed it, gripping the handle tightly and pulling the Blade farther from the hunter as Cas held it close to his body, his jaw tight and eyes glued to Dean, as if measuring his reaction.

“Cas? What… ?” What the hell was he doing?

“Cas here asked me not to give that to you just now,” Crowley explained, “He thinks you should not have it until it’s absolutely necessary.”

And now Dean was frowning, because what the hell did that even mean? What was he—

Oh, no.

“Cas, you can’t.” He was not letting Cas go in there with him. He wasn’t letting _anyone_ go in there with him, because it was already enough that he had to worry about himself and the baby in there; he really didn’t need to worry about the wellbeing of anyone who wanted to join in on the fight. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Dean, I’m going with you.” Cas’ voice was unwavering, so strong and firm it was surprising to hear it, seeing as the angel had literally just limped here.

Dean was already shaking his head before the words were even out of his mouth. “Cas, you can’t possibly—”

_Dean, I’m going._

Dean paused, taking a moment to realize that he was hearing Cas in his head, because it sounded exactly like the angel had spoken out loud, only that his lips hadn’t moved at all. That was how it usually was, anyway, but Dean hadn't exactly been expecting the sudden shift to telepathy.

The hunter held the angel’s hard gaze, hoping his own eyes wouldn’t waver, that his conviction would remain strong even in their minds.  _Cas, I can’t worry about you in there. I can’t…_

_I need to be there, Dean. If anything happens, I need to be there. You know that._

_If…_

Right. Dean hadn’t thought about that one, and suddenly he realized that Cas might be right. Dean was risking a lot here and if anything were to go wrong, if Cas was there, maybe he could… do something, anything, to stop the damage, or at least lessen it. Cas had mentioned early labor, but could he stop that if that happened? Dean hoped he could. And either way, Gabriel had said Dean would heal faster with Cas close by, and with the angel by his side, he would feel safer, would feel less on edge about the fact that their child’s life was in danger here.

But he still didn’t like the idea of Cas being in the same room as Cain. Cas was no match for the Knight, had no means to defend himself if it came to it, so how could Dean protect him from Cain? From himself? What if something happened to him?

_You will not need to protect me, Dean._

Oh, awesome, Dean was still projecting. Wasn’t that great.

_Cain is trapped. I will not enter the trap if not necessary, and hopefully it will not come to that. We need to talk to him, Dean, and for that there is no need for you to be holding this Blade. I will only allow you to touch it if we have no other choice, but for that, I will need to go with you in there._

Cas’ gaze softened then, and although they still held this fierce determination, they were suddenly pleading, begging.

_Please, Dean. I need to know you are both safe. I need to make sure no harm comes to either of you._

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy breath as he finally looked away from Cas’ eyes. Just then he remembered he and Cas weren't been alone, that Sam and Crowley were still there with them, having watched the entire silent exchange. Sam looked confused, and Crowley seemed to know exactly what was going on, by now apparently having grown impatient and not even bothering to hide it.

“Fine,” Dean said out loud, feeling the word heavy on his tongue, already hating the meaning of it but not seeing any other way for this to go other than him agreeing with Cas. The angel did have a point, anyway, but that didn’t mean Dean was happy to have Cas join him in the line of fire.

Cas looked relieved at that word, but his muscles were still tense, like he was expecting Dean to jump on him and try to tear the Blade from his hand at any second. That was what the Mark was telling him to do, anyway, so Cas was right to be prepared.

“Then I’m going too, Dean.”

Of course…

“No, Sam,” Dean shook his head, because Cas was already going to be there, he really didn’t need his brother there too.

“Dean, I can—”

“I can’t worry about you too!”

Sam looked surprised at Dean’s tone, but seemed to recover quickly. He opened his mouth, clearly about to say something else, most likely to argue more and try to convince Dean to let him go into the barn too, when someone else spoke.

“Moose, if I were you, I wouldn’t insist.”

There was a surprised silence that followed those words, all eyes suddenly settling on Crowley, because the guy was the least probable person to say something like that at the moment. No one seemed to have been expecting it at all.

But as Dean looked at him, he realized that Crowley knew exactly what was going on here, if the look the demon threw Dean’s way was anything to go by, lingering on the hunter’s face before flitting down to his stomach for just a second before he was looking at Sam once more, all of it happpening so quickly Dean almost missed it.

“Besides, who’s going to keep me company out here?”

He was trying to play it like usual, but Dean felt almost thankful for the effort, because Crowley had obviously picked up on the fact that Sam still didn’t know about the nephilim and hadn’t simply told him in the least appropriate time or way, didn’t make it out as a joke that would have a little too much truth in it.

Sam still looked like he wanted to argue, but fortunately Cas spoke before he could.

“Sam, I do in fact believe it to be wisest for you to stand back,” the angel said, his voice lower than it had been before, and although it was clearly a request, there was this edge to it that made it clear he would not back down.

Sam let his eyes jump from each one of the three, a battle probably going on in his head. He wanted to argue, he clearly did, but the argument was at three against one and Dean could only hope he would just relent. Cain was in there, trapped, but he wouldn’t be stuck for too long and Dean was already growing anxious with the wait. He clenched his right hand a few times, feeling it tingle painfully, being near the Blade but not being able to touch it being a terrible thing to endure. Cas seemed to notice the movement, his grip tightening on the handle of the Blade, before he focused his eyes back onto Sam.

Sam let out a sigh of defeat, running his hands through his overgrown hair as he nodded lightly. “Alright, you win. But Dean…”

“I got it, Sam,” Dean cut him off before he could go on. This wasn’t a suicidal mission, and it never would be, but his brother had no idea why, so it was easy so understand why he would be fearful that might be what Dean had in mind here.

Sam held his gaze for a long moment, and Dean just stared back. He could see the way his brother’s eyes were filled with a wordless, quiet determination, feeling the need to make sure that his brother wasn’t about to kill himself, and Dean patiently waited for the doubt to fade from his eyes and for it to become evident that his resolve to go with them had completely crumbled.

It happened eventually, and with a tight nod of his head, Sam let out a heavy sigh. He said nothing, however, and suddenly Dean knew this conversation was over.

Swallowing drily, Dean turned around began to make his way up the narrow, creaky, old and termite-eaten staircase that led up to the barn, to Cain. Every step seemed to get Dean more tired, his body more tense, the Mark growing louder and louder with expectation to what was about to happen. It burned, more than it had in a long time, much like it used to before he and Cas bonded.

He could feel Cas behind him, and he chose to focus on the angel’s presence instead.

They got to the big, sliding door that closed the barn, the only physical barrier between them and the Father of Murder himself. The Mark got louder, angrier, screaming and lashing for the Blade, and Dean did his best to block it, but it was too hard, not even the soul bond being able to manage such a task with Cain himself and First Blade so close to him.

_Kill, kill, kill, KILL, KILL!_

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Dean turned his head to look at Cas, finding the angel watching him with a sorrowful, pained look in his blue eyes, which instantly told the hunter that the angel could feel the Mark too, knew exactly what he was going through right now. Looking down, Dean saw the angel’s tight grip around the Blade, his knuckles white, hand shaking just barely.

Dean hated it. Hated that the Mark was getting to Cas too; hated that he was literally poisoning Cas like this. But there was nothing he could do about that right now, and the faster he got this whole thing over with, the better; the quicker Cas and the baby would be out of harm’s way; the sooner Cas and their child would be safe.

Lifting his hand, Dean placed his palm over his still flat stomach over his shirt, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath, trying to somehow calm down, trying to slow down his rapidly beating heart and his erratic breathing. He told himself that he had to do this, that there was no other way, because honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else. But that didn’t mean he had to like this.

_It’s going to be okay. We’ll be fine._

He wasn’t sure who he was talking to—Cas or their child, if their little baby was even able to hear him in there. Probably not, but it made him feel better nonetheless.

Cas squeezed his shoulder in a grounding, reassuring gesture, before he moved his hand up toward Dean’s face, raising his own head so he could touch Dean’s lips with his in a short, light kiss.

“I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” the angel whispered against his lips, the conviction in those words certain and unwavering, his voice strong and firm.

That was what terrified Dean the most. That Cas would put himself in harm’s way because of him, that something might happen to the angel, just like that witch in Omaha had gotten her way with Sam before he hadn't been fast enough to do something to stop it. And it wasn’t like Dean himself could risk too much here, but then again, if something happened to Cas, his life and the baby's on the line too.

This was really a train wreck just happening to go off the rails, and Dean felt helpless to stop it.

“That’s not all I’m worried about, Cas.” Dean looked at the door before them, as if he would be able to see through it if he squinted enough. Their presence was imposing, and somehow they looked bigger than they had before. It made him feel uneasy for some reason. “You have to promise me, Cas, you won’t… Cas, you can’t try to fight him.”

“I have no intention of fighting Cain, Dean, but I cannot promise you that I will not interfere if anything…” Looking over at the angel, he watched him swallow, looking down, as if needing to calm down, sort out his thoughts better. “Dean, I will only give you this Blade if it becomes evident killing Cain is the only option. Otherwise…”

“I won’t touch the thing. Yeah, I got it, Cas.” Honestly, Dean wasn’t happy at all with the simple prospect of even touching that damn thing. He wouldn’t even be near it if he had the option not to, but he didn’t, or else he would not be doing this.

“Dean.”

Looking back up at Cas, Dean realized the look in Cas eyes had shifted. His gaze was still as worried as it had been before, but it had at some point morphed into something heavier, but surer, the traces of uncertainty that had also been there having faded into something very close to conviction. Dean had not seen it coming; had no idea where it had come from.

“We’ll get through this, Dean. I will be there with you. I won’t let anything go wrong.”

Swallowing drily, Dean nodded numbly, trying to take comfort in those words rather than get even more worried because of them. He sighed, closing his eyes and deciding that he had already stalled enough. That Devil’s Trap wasn’t going to hold Cain for much longer, he knew that better than anyone. He remembered the time when his demon self had been trapped in the Bunker, when Sam had been trying to cure him, all the colorful and very manageable plans he had been formulating in his mind to break free. He had been able to feel the power of the trap fading slowly, how it grew weaker with time, until he finally decided that just walking through the thing would do the job. Sure, Cain wasn’t part human like Dean had been, but he was old and powerful, and Dean was pretty sure the Knight would find a way out sooner rather than later.

Glancing back at Cas, Dean waited for something, anything from him, any sign that he was either ready or not.

The angel gave him a sharp, curt nod.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dean stepped forward, gripping the tight metal handle of the door before him and pushing it, moving the old thing to the side, allowing a sliver of light coming from inside to pool at their feet.

Well, it was now or never.

Without another word, Dean stepped forward, by the corner of his eye watching as Cas did the same.

Slowly, Dean and Cas walked into the barn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Dean and Cas vs Cain. How do you guys think that will turn out? And where is Gabriel? What is Charlie up to? Will Cas ever watch _Harry Potter_? So many important questions... ;) ;)
> 
> Little fun fact #1: There was no sexy time in the original draft for this chapter. That entire part just appeared while I was editing. XD
> 
> Little fun fact #2: I had originally planned to end this chapter when Dean got the message from Crowley, but then I kept writing and decided that the cliffhanger was just so much better. ;D


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of the hardest chapters to write. I love the scene with Dean and Cain in 10x14 so much it actually gives me chills, so I was a little worried about writing it in this chapter and not doing a good enough job with it. I hope I don't disappoint. :)
> 
> Please don't hate me!<3
> 
> I've tried to avoid writing actual scenes from canon into the story up until now, but this one was necessary. I had to borrow a lot from 10x14, including many lines, and I apologize for that. **I do not own anything.**
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains spoilers from the episode 10x14, "The Executoner's Song" and from season 11, graphic violence (which involves pregnant!Dean) and **the death of a minor character**. Please see the end notes if you want to know who dies before reading the chapter.

Cain had his back turned at the barn door, marks of where his feet had been dragged over the hay that covered the floor clear as soon as Dean was inside. The demon had apparently spread most of it to uncover the trap under his feet while they had been talking outside, a job performed out of boredom, maybe, although Dean was pretty sure that probably wasn’t all of it. The Knight was frozen in place, body completely unmoving, just a figure towering at the center of the room. There was no tension clear in his muscles, not a single hint of nervousness, of expectation of a fight Dean knew the demon must know was coming. He was just… standing there, waiting patiently, looking like he couldn’t care less about what would be happening here.

The sight of him made a chill run down Dean’s spine, but he forced his eyes to stay focused on Cain and not to glance over at Cas to share his nervousness. Seeing the angel’s tense shoulders, his worried and anxious stance, would only make the rock of uneasiness sitting in the hunter's stomach grow even heavier than it already was.

“Hello, Dean.” Cain didn’t even turn around, and yet he still added, “Castiel.”

Dean swallowed drily, coming to a stop a few steps away from the edge of the trap with Cas standing a handful of steps to the side, close enough to do something were the need for it to arise, although still keeping a considerate distance between them. Dean guessed he did it because of the Blade, to somehow keep it out of the hunter’s reach, and Dean was kind of glad for it, even if it did the exact opposite of making him feel better. The chanting of the Mark, the constant plea for him to just tear the Blade from Cas’ hand grew louder with every minute, and Dean wasn’t sure for how much longer he would be able to ignore it.

Cain turned around slowly, and for close to half a minute he just eyed them both, his gaze calculating and unnerving, one of his eyebrows a little higher than the other, giving his eyes an air of something very close to disdain, to superiority. During the examination, Dean held himself still, not willing to show nervousness or weakness, to allow Cain to know just how much he was already dreading every single second of this, how much just being in same freaking room as Cain with Cas by his side holding the First Blade was getting him worked up.

“You surprise me, Dean, a doing that has not been accomplished by many before you.” His eyes rested on Cas for just a second before they returned to Dean's face. “I am led to assume that now is the moment when you try to accomplish what you’ve come he to do: talk me down, try to make me see reason, try to convince me to give up my mission. Although, bringing Castiel along? Putting his life in danger like this, equaling it to your own?” A sound that sounded unexpectedly like a chuckle escaped the demon's closed mouth. It was dry and short, but still enough to send yet another chill down Dean’s spine. “Now _that_ is something I would have thought you would never do.”

Dean ignored the comment, instead choosing to bring the conversation straight to the point. The quicker they got this whole thing over with, the better. “And what is this mission of yours, Cain? You think your bloodline is tainted, is that it?”

“I know it is.” Cain’s response was unwavering, simple and calm, yet holding so much certainty it left no room for argument. “Not all killers are my descendants and not all my descendants are killers, but enough are.”

“And the child? How could you possibly think a boy to be a potential killer?” Cas spoke for the first time, his voice a low, powerful rumble, letting the strength of the heavenly warrior Dean had met him to be all those years ago slip into his voice. The angel might not be that powerful anymore, but he sure as hell still knew how to sound like it.

A light shrug formed on Cain’s shoulders, making the demon look almost uninterested, as if the answer to that question could not be more obvious to him. “He could go either way. I prefer to be thorough.”

Yeah, it was official. Cain had gone completely mental.

“Cain, you don’t have to do this,” Dean shook his head, not wishing to sound weak but still letting a hint of plea leak into his voice, “This is madness.”

“Or so you say.” Cain began to pace then, and Cas tensed up beside Dean, although the Knight most likely could not go past the trap just yet. Still, the angel was rigid next to him, prepared to act at the single hint that the demon had somehow gotten free. The Mark pointed out that Cas was distracted, which meant taking the Blade from him would be easy enough, and Dean quickly pushed that thought away. It took a lot more effort than it should, and Dean had to actually hold his arm back from reaching up scratch at the Mark as it began to burn even more in response to his self-control. It hurt, but all he could do was ignore the pain. “Is it madness to attempt to rid the world of the plague I myself have caused? Of the disease I have allowed to spread through countless generations? Does it not make sense to you, Dean? It's not overly different from your own, how may I say it? Your lifestyle, your own vow to devote your life to ending the supernatural threats to humanity, to spare the innocent lives at the cost of the damned.”

Dean swallowed, because while yeah, Cain might have a point, he was twisting things around and Dean didn’t like it. It wasn’t the same thing. When Dean hunted, he hunted monsters; creatures who were killing humans, who had fallen so far from humanity that they couldn't even be considered people anymore. They'd lost their humanity the moment they had given in to the desire to kill; the moment they had blood on their hands. There had been a point in his life when Dean would have killed a creature simply because at some point down the road they might turn out to be a killer; because they had the potential for it. That had happened more than once, actually; he was ashamed to admit it. But that had been what his father had taught him, because in John Winchester’s mind, that was how things worked, and for years Dean had never even considered questioning it.

As it turned out, though, that wasn’t how things worked. Over the years Dean had learned that sometimes some monsters might be truthful when they said that they wouldn’t hurt anyone; that there was still something human in them, something worth saving, a part that was still willing to fight their new nature. Some deserved a chance, like Lenore and Benny had. Hell, now even Garth and his weird vegetarian werewolf family.

Even _himself_ , he thought bitterly, although he wasn't sure about the same applying to himself. He had done way too much bad stuff as a demon to deserve the same train of thought, but this wasn’t the time nor the place for that particular discussion, so he pushed those thoughts away for now.

“It’s just a freaking kid, Cain.” And of course Dean was thinking about his own kid when he said it, the one that wasn’t even completely formed yet, resting in his womb in that very moment, completely innocent, completely oblivious to everything that was happening around it. With this logic, he knew Cain would kill it too if he knew the truth simply because the baby was Dean's, just as Heaven would kill it simply because it was a nephilim.

“Do you honestly not believe the world wouldn’t be better off with fewer Leons, Dean? Fewer Tommys?" Cain made a short pause as he gave Dean an almost defying look, both his eyebrows shooting up, "Fewer yous?”

Cas tensed up even more by his side, Dean saw it from the corner of his eye, and he knew the seraph was just itching to get his Angel Blade out right then, but the hunter was grateful that the angel held back for now. No need to be hostile just yet.

Deep down Dean knew maybe he ought to agree with Cain. Yeah, the world would be better off without murderers, without serial killers, without people like him, cursed and poisoned like he was now, going mental with the Mark burning on his arm and his list of human victims growing longer at a truly startling rate. He was like a rabid dog just ready to snap at every second of every day.

But still, Cain’s logic wasn’t healthy. That didn’t give anyone the right to decide that a human life should be taken like that. The demon wasn't even fighting the Mark like Dean was; he had just given in to it, remorselessly killing men, women, babies, kids, elderly—no one had a pass with him and this was all just fucked up and wrong.

“You’re not just killing murderers, Cain, you’re killing innocents. How can you not see that’s wrong?”

Cain tilted his head to the side, considering Dean for a moment, weighing his words in his head, or what least that’s what it looked like. “Are you trying to convince yourself that if I have any chance of redemption, if you can make me see reason as I believe you would put it, then you can also be saved, Dean? Is that why you are not holding the Blade yourself? Because you are trying to prove that you have enough self-control that you do not need to touch it?” Cain waited for a response, but all he got from Dean was silence. That seemed to have been answer enough for him, though, his voice growing in both volume and confidence when he continued, “Are you trying to tell me you do not feel your skin crawl with the mere thought of touching that Blade? That you do not feel the Mark pulsating in your arm in this very moment, begging for you to just reach out and take it in our hand, claim what has become yours by right? Are you telling me that it is not the only thing you can even think about right now, that you can barely even hear my words over the constant chanting in your mind?”

Dean shook his head, his jaw tight, posture stiff. Every single word Cain said was true, and Dean hated it; hated how the Mark flared up in response to them as confirmation, as if to remind Dean that it was still there, to make sure Dean knew Cain was right.

But that wasn’t quite the reason why he wasn’t holding the Blade in his own hand, why he wasn’t even planning to touch it at all tonight, although he couldn’t exactly tell Cain that one. The Knight couldn’t know about the nephilim, and Dean would do everything he could to make sure the demon wouldn’t find out about it. Dean had no idea what the outcome of tonight would be, but whatever it may be, whatever would go down in this barn in the end, he wanted to make sure Cain would still walk out of this without knowing about what was growing inside Dean right now. That was, if Cain would walk out of here at all.

If Dean himself would walk out of here at all.

“You pose a picture of righteousness, and yet all I see when I look at you, Cain, is a murderer. How can you possibly try to explain your own actions? How can you possibly expect that what you claim to be your mission is in any way reasoned?”

Cain spared Cas a look of pure disdain at the words. “I’m no innocent, Castiel, and I am very much aware of that. I never said I wasn’t guilty of my own curse. When I made my bargain with Lucifer, when I killed Abel, I released a stain upon the Earth, and it is my own duty to cleanse it.”

“And when you are done with your mission, what will you do? Kill yourself? Or hide away once more? Pretend that none of this ever happened, because you will leave no witness behind that will know the madness you’ve once again fallen into to? The even bigger stain you have spread across the Earth so long after the first?”

This actually got a reaction out of Cain. His eyes were sharp as they settled even more heavily on Cas’ face, measuring. It was almost like he was posturing somehow, eyeing the angel up and down with an air of superiority that had yet another chill running down Dean’s spine. The hint of anger in his eyes was small, almost imperceptible, but it was still there, and if that trap wasn’t in place, Dean would actually be worried about Cain losing his temper with Cas because of that comment.

Dean could only hope it would hold up for a little longer.

“Do not pretend to know me, Castiel. You claim to do so, and yet you seem surprised by my mission. How is it that you expect so much from someone like me? At the end of the day, I’m still a demon.”

His eyes settled on Dean then, a clear sign that he had proclaimed the discussion with Cas to be over, his expression sobering even more.

“You haven’t answered me, Dean,” he pointed out calmly, though there was a clear hint of something to his voice, like he was enjoying this whole thing, how much his words were getting to both of them. “Is that why you are not holding the Blade yourself? Because you still have hope you might not descend into the same darkness that I have tangled myself into? Do you believe it possible to resist the Mark? That it is possible not to succumb to it?”

Dean swallowed drily, once more doing everything he could not to let Cain’s words get to him, even though that hadn't really worked until now. He had to keep a leveled head right now, because a fight was the last thing he wanted from this whole situation. They needed to talk, not fight. "That's enough, Cain," Dean let out, getting a raised eyebrow in response from Cain. He didn't look surprised, though. It was almost like he was amused, like he could tell they knew he was right, but they just refused to admit it. Dean ignored the look, forcing his words to come out firm, “We need answers from you, Cain, that’s all.”

His eyebrow rose up a little more on Cain’s forehead, but this time he actually looked surprised. “Talk? Is that what you wanted from me when you found me in that burial ground, Castiel? Is that what the archangel that has been trying to track me for weeks wants?”

Archangel? Was Gabriel looking for Cain? That was news to Dean, and when he looked to the side to catch Cas' reaction to those words, he found his own surprise reflected on the angel’s features. So Cas didn’t know about this either, then.

“I’ve learned how to hide from your kind a long time ago, Castiel, although archangels are considerably more complicated. Still, he hasn’t managed to reach me, and even if he had, this hunt you are all betting on, that you are pouring all of your hope into is nothing but fruitless, and you just refuse to see it.” Cain leveled Dean with another look, this one a lot heavier than the others. He looked almost disappointed. “There is no cure for the Mark, Dean, and it is about time you accept that your fate is already written. It has been since the very moment you agreed to take on the Mark, the moment you accepted the curse for yourself.”

“My fate?” Dean took a step forward, though not enough to make him cross into the trap. Cas tensed up beside him anyway, but didn’t move from where he was standing, although Dean knew the angel would only restrain himself from interfering while Dean as out of Cain’s reach, while there was still a line painted on the floor between them, an invisible wall that kept Cain from doing anything to him. “You’re saying that my fate is going mental and homicidal like you have?”

A spark of amusement appeared in Cain’s eyes, and the corner of his mouth went up an inch, almost like a smile but not enough to be considered one, so small it would be very easy to miss it. Still, the sight of it made Dean even more uneasy, especially because it was such an odd thing to see. It looked almost wrong on the demon's face, like it didn't quite belong. “It is your destiny, Dean, and deep down you know it too.” The demon started pacing around the circle again, his stride calm, steps measured and unrushed, as if meticulously calculated. “Have you not thought about it at all? Have you never even mused upon the fact that you are now living my life in reverse, Dean?”

Dean had no reply to that, so he kept quiet, instead choosing to simply watch the Knight’s every movement with attention, his muscles tense and just waiting for the moment the demon would break free from that trap. He could almost feel it coming.

“You’ve killed Abaddon, the last Knight apart from me and yourself, and now you’re here to kill me, even if you try to tell me that is not your intention. You’re just lying to yourself to even think that.” Dean chose not to object on the fact that it really wasn’t his intention here, swallowing the words, feeling them bitter in his mouth because deep down he knew too well that Cain might be right, and that thought was just too terrifying right now. “Then you’ll kill Crowley, and maybe there would be some mixed feelings in there, but you’d get it done, no remorse, just like I ended all of the other Knights.”

Cain’s eyes moved to Cas then, pausing there for a moment before the Knight fixated his gaze back on Dean. “And then there was Colette.” Something very close to bitterness mingled into Cain’s words then, but it was so subtle it was nothing more than just a hint, and Dean wasn’t sure if the Knight was hiding it very well or if the emotion was just too weak to actually make itself known more strongly. “Even when she tried everything, when she believed it possible for me to redeem myself after I was already completely lost, even when she was the only who believed that I was worth saving, I still killed her, still drove that very Blade into her chest and watched the life fade from her eyes. Just like you will kill Castiel, and _that_ one…” The demon shook his head, something close to a grimace taking over his features, “That one I'm sure will hurt something _awful_.”

Dean’s hands closed into fists by his sides. He closed his eyes shut as he felt the Mark flaring up at those words, agreeing with Cain vehemently and once more reminding Dean that Cas was right now holding the Blade, within reaching distance and that it could be so easily yanked from him. The angel wouldn’t even see it coming, wouldn’t have the chance to react as Dean would pull the Blade from him and drive it into his chest.

Dean swallowed as he shook his head, cursing at the Mark and trying to push those thoughts away, but maybe because of Cain’s presence and of the Blade itself he found that he couldn’t quite manage it. The Mark was screaming in his head and he couldn’t push it away this time.

“And then at last would come the murder that would destroy you once and for all,” Cain paused his pacing then, and Dean open and lifted his eyes to meet the demon’s once more, forcing himself to hold his gaze even if every single cell in his body was asking him not to, even if his insides felt like they were trying to tear themselves apart from doing it, “Your brother, Sam, will perish in your hands, just as Abel did in mine. And finally that one kill will turn you into something there will be no coming back from, will damn your soul with no chance of redemption, tear it apart beyond repair.”

Dean shook his head a lot more vehemently this time, because no, that would never happen. None of what Cain just said would ever happen. This wasn’t his destiny, just like being Michael’s vessel in the Apocalypse hadn’t been. There was no destiny; there was only what he would allow to happen. He had already learned that by now, and he wouldn’t let a couple of words change that, wouldn’t led the cold tendrils of fear that plagued his mind right then and insisted that Cain had a point might actually be right. He refused to give reason to the tiny little voice in the back of his head that kept whispering that maybe this time he wouldn’t be able to run away from his fate.

“I’m not you, Cain.” His voice came out stronger than he’d expected it too, so much he was actually a little surprised, but glad not to show just how much Cain’s words were weighing in his chest.

“No, you are not.” Cain’s voice was still unwavering, like he had expected that answer and was not surprised in the slightest by hearing it. “But you will be, and sooner than you think.”

Swallowing, Dean shook his head again, but any words he might have been able to come up with then died in his throat.

Cas, fortunately, decided to intervene then. “You said there is no cure for the Mark,” The angel took a few calm, measured steps forward so he was about as close as Dean was to the lines on the floor, “How do you know that? Have even you looked for one?”

Cain’s expression darkened, although the mask of calmness and distance he had been wearing since Dean and Cas had first walked into this place remained firmly in place. His eyes just grew heavier somehow, and Dean suddenly knew Cas had asked precisely the right question. “It does not matter how much you search for an answer, how close you ever come to it, you’ll never find it. I never did.”

“All we need to know is if there might be something to find.” Dean took a step forward without thinking, although he was still out of the trap, he quickly realized with relief. He didn’t take a step back, though, nor did he walk forward even more, as the Mark kept asking him to. Instead he found himself eyeing Cain with much more pleading eyes than he probably should, but he could barely contain his reaction. They needed this cure. His tiny little ball of light needed this cure.

Cain’s head tilted to the side, regarding them both once more, and this time he was silent for close to a minute. The air was loaded with what felt like heavy electricity around them, Cas and Dean both clearly tense and ready for any blow that might come out of nowhere, while Cain looked as relaxed as he had been from the beginning. His expression was hard to read, and Dean had no idea what he could possibly be looking for in their faces.

A thunder sounded in the distance, and Dean jumped a little at the sound.

“You’ve changed, Dean.” Cain started pacing again, but this time he stepped forward, close to the border. It took a lot of will from Dean not to move away from him, but he stood his ground. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Cas tensed up and stepped forward once more, like he wanted to place himself between Dean and Cain, though not actually doing it, instead lingering next to Dean, just a step away. Cain’s eyes flittered over to the angel for a second, a hint of amusement sparkling in his clear blue eyes for just a second before it was gone again and he was once more staring at Dean. “I assume the reason for Castiel to be here in the first place would be because of his own desire that no harm would come to you. He's practically gravitating around you right now." Another small smile appeared on his lips, "You two really are not subtle at all.”

Well, glad _that_ was out of the way, then.

“And while Castiel is very clearly intent on saving you, Dean, that he is here not because of a request from you, but out of his own free will…” Cain shook his head lightly, that weird disappointed look flooding back into his features, “The despair in your stance, the urgency in your voice could not be clearer. Your life is not the only thing at stake here, because you are not as preservative of your own life as this. If it means saving the world, of ridding humanity of the danger you yourself present, while you’re human, you would rather choose death. So I’m asking you, Dean, what is really the reason for this conversation? For you not to be holding the Blade here? For you to be here, talking to me at all.”

Dean did not answer, of course not, because Cain couldn’t know this. He just forced himself to hold Cain’s gaze, even though once more all he wanted to do right then was look away. He couldn’t give anything away, not about the soul bond, or about the nephilim. Cas also remained silent, but he was tenser than ever, and Dean could feel the angel’s own anxiety, his own nervousness spilling into the soul bond in waves. Suddenly this whole thing became all the more risky. Cain seemed to be a lot more observant than they had given him credit for.

“In the end, it does not matter.” Cain did not sound disappointed for not getting an answer, his voice as calm as it had been before. “Whatever it is that you are trying to save, Dean,” The demon shook his head once more, his eyes turning almost sorrowful. If Dean didn't know better, he would actually think the demon looked sad, “It is already damned. Everything you care about, just as it happened to me, was lost the moment you took on that Mark. You just refuse to admit it.”

And suddenly the floor broke, a crack appearing amongst the lines of the trap, releasing the Knight.

Dean had no time to react. Cain flung his hand through the air before him, the movement light and effortless, as if he was simply pushing away a bug, and suddenly Dean was flying across the room, invisible hands tossing him into the air so fast he barely had time to process what was happening until he was already hitting the floor. He landed on his side, a surge of panic running through him as his hand instantly flew to his stomach, which was followed by another one as he realized that Cain had threw him just to get him out of the way and was going for Cas, eyes fixated on Blade still gripped tightly in the angel's hand.

The angel was faster to react. He tossed the Blade aside, bringing his hand up and getting one good one punch against Cain’s jaw before the demon gripped his arm and spun Cas around, tilting the limb around the seraph’s back, causing Cas to yelp out in pain as the bone broke, the sick sound of it snapping loud and ugly. Dean gritted his teeth together as his own arm ached, a phantom pain that mirrored what Cas was feeling right then.

Cain tossed Cas against a wall, making a dent into it as the wood broke under the impact with Cas' body, before he turned toward the Blade. Dean had already rushed to his feet by then, ready to jump on Cain before he laid another finger on Cas, though he didn’t get the chance to do anything, instead just watching frozen as a fourth figure joined them in the barn, appearing out of thin air a few steps away from where he was standing, the sound of wings cutting through the air for a second as an announcement of the new arrival.

Well, it sure took him long enough to get here.

“Well, hello, Cain,” Gabriel said from his spot in the center of the room. His expression was heavy, stormy, and it easily reminded Dean of the archangel’s face back at the cabin, though it was calmer somehow, more controlled. It was still mildly terrifying, though. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Cain replied calmly, pausing his steps so he could stare at the archangel. He did not look nervous at all; he looked completely unbothered by the archangel’s presence, like it didn’t change a damn thing, and that actually made Dean a little uneasy. “It took you a good while to find me, Gabriel. I would dare to say you are losing your touch.”

The archangel didn’t seem fazed at all, shrugging his shoulders and keeping his pose perfectly still, eyes filled with a confidence Dean wasn’t sure if he was really feeling, or if he was just really good at faking it. “You’re not all I hear either, Cain. Where did the whole 'I'm strong enough to resist the Mark, I can be better' act go? You went downhill pretty fast.” Gabriel’s expression grew darker then, his eyes narrowing slightly. When he got no response, he added, “What would Colette think of you if she saw you, Cain?”

The Blade flew from the floor right into Cain’s hand, and the demon gripped it tightly into his hand, closing his eyes as if to steady himself and taking in a breath, his fist shaking with what Dean knew too well was the Blade’s energy, skin lighting up with the power coming from it as it coursed through the demon's veins. Dean’s own Mark starting chanting even louder then, cursing that Cain was touching the Blade instead of Dean, burning in his arm in anger and hatred, telling Dean to step forward and claim what was his.

Gabriel smirked a little, apparently pleased with Cain’s reaction, not reacting to the fact that the Knight was holding the Blade at all, not even a single flinch. “Where did that go, Cain? Your whole quest to make yourself a better person? Wasn’t that why you threw the Blade in the ocean in the first place?”

Cain’s grip on the Blade tightened, and Dean felt his own Mark flaring up even more. He wondered if their Marks were in synch somehow, if one acting up made the other act up too, because it seemed like that was happening right then.

From his spot by the wall a few feet away, Dean watched as Cas finally rose himself slowly to his feet. There was a trail of blood on the angel’s forehead, but that seemed to be all the damage. He didn’t charge, thankfully, just stood by the side like Dean was doing, watching the exchange in silence, muscles tense with expectation.

His eyes did flit over to Dean, though, looking like he was assessing the damage on him for a moment as well.

 _Are you okay?_ Dean heard Cas' voice inside his head, and he gave the angel a light nod in response.

“And what about you, Gabriel?” Cain’s voice dropped, and when Dean turned his attention back to the pair, he found the demon's eyes loaded dangerously, something like barely concealed anger burning in his eyes. “Have you found what you’ve been looking for all these years? Wandering around the Earth, away from your kind, because your own family, your own kind didn’t want you around?”

Gabriel’s jaw twitched, and Dean could see the archangel’s expression shift a little, although he did hide his anger pretty well. He smirked a second later, and the usual twinkle in his eyes was back. Surprisingly, it did seem genuine. “Desperate,” he replied, an amused smirk forming on his lips, “Not your style, Cain.”

Cain glanced down at the Blade for a second. “True,” he agreed, before looking back up at the archangel, his expression not once shifting for the air of superiority that just seemed to always linger around him. “What are you doing here, Gabriel? You have been following me for weeks.”

“I think you know why.”

Cain tilted his head to the side, and suddenly he seemed to be considering Gabriel from another angle, his expression growing almost curious. “I know what you’re looking for, Gabriel, that was not my question,” He shook his head, “No, I want to know, why help them? Because you care for them?” His voice was filled with disdain then, an amused smile tugging the corner of his lips for a second, “I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Gabriel replied easily, “Now, tell me what you know.”

The amusement in Cain’s eyes didn’t fade as he took a step to the side, beginning to walk around the room slowly. He walked right past Dean without even glancing at him, his eyes completely focused on the archangel as Gabriel turned his body in time to follow the Knight’s movements, his eyes careful and calculating, measuring every single move the demon made. He was clearly ready to react at any second if needed.

“The archangels did come for me, you know, after I killed all the Knights and Lucifer was thrown into the Cage. I assume Heaven wanted to cleanse the world of the Knights forever, and they assumed that me being the last of my kind meant it would be easy.” He twisted the Blade around in his hand, glancing down at it for a moment, “You were not around anymore to see it, of course. Raphael did not even show up; I found that very rude. No, the only one that came was Michael.”

A smile formed on the Knight’s lips once more, and it just seemed sick, almost twisted. “I no longer had my Blade, had already disposed of it, but fortunately I had been smart enough to prepared myself for the event. Did you know that banishing sigils work on archangels as well? Interesting discovery, if you ask me.”

He continued to pace, his eyes finding Gabriel once more. “I knew I needed more than that, however, or else I wouldn’t last over the years. So I looked up everything there was about your kind, Gabriel. And I figured out a few… interesting tricks, to hide myself from you and protect myself, if needed.”

Dean saw the way Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, the way his posture wavered just a tiny bit, but the archangel held his ground, kept the confidence in his eyes convincingly, although Dean was pretty sure Cain could see right through it. Dean felt his own heart clench in his chest at the sight, worry and expectation quickly making themselves known in his stomach.

“The most interesting of all, however, was a spell,” Cain smiled a little more widely this time, and he did the one thing Dean hadn’t been expecting to do.

He dropped the Blade to the floor.

Gabriel chose that moment to charge, crossing the distance between them in quick, powerful strides, pulling his Angel Blade (or was it an Archangel Blade? Dean had no idea if it was any different) from his coat and swinging it through the air, going straight for Cain’s throat.

Cain dodged the hit, but Gabriel got a hold of him somehow and pretty much threw Cain backwards, making the demon fall to the floor with one, powerful shove. He spun his blade in his hand, raising it above his head, his entire body lighting up with the power of his Grace, and Dean could already feel his heart racing in his chest, because was Gabriel really about to…

Gabriel screamed. He dropped his blade a few inches away from where Cain was still on the floor, before falling to his knees. Cain rose his body then, and Dean could see him holding something. It looked like a small hex bag that was shining with a bright golden light, symbols painted over it, and Dean couldn't see it too clearly but they looked like Enochian. Cain was squeezing it in his hand, making his skin shine with it, like power coursing from it into his body much like what had happened with the Blade earlier.

“You can find anything if you look for it,” Cain spoke calmly, towering over the writhing, moaning in pain form of Gabriel, and the single sight of the scene made Dean’s entire body run cold with panic, “Even a spell to incapacitate an archangel. It doesn’t last long, true, but you’re weaker than you’ve ever been, Gabriel, and this is all I need to deal with you.” Cain turned his glance back to the side, to where the Blade was, and his intention was clear.

And then Cas jumped on Cain.

Dean hadn’t even seen the angel moving, hadn’t realized he’d had any intention of interfering, and even as a surge of panic flooded him again, as he felt the blow of Cain’s hand against Cas’ forehead as the demon delivered a punch to the angel’s head, as Cain threw Cas away several feet and the seraph landed with a low, painful thud against the wooden floor, Dean’s body was already responding without him having to think for even a moment and he suddenly was jumping forward and grabbing the Blade before Cain could make a move to retrieve it himself.

The moment Dean touched the Blade, he regretted it. The Mark, the pulsating presence in his arm, the heat coming from it; the moment he touched the Blade, it all magnified. His arm lit up in flames, or at least it felt like it did. Honestly, it felt like acid was running through his veins instead of blood from his hand to the spot on his forearm where the damn Mark was.

He felt dizzy and nauseous, and he stumbled a little, his breath shaking as he tried to regain his balance, but everything was suddenly rage and heat and all he wanted to do was swing that Blade across the air and kill whatever came at him right then and there. Part of him wanted to drop the Blade and never touch it again, while another wondered why he’d gone so long without it, how he’d managed to go months without having the Blade in his hands, without the surge of pure _power_ running through his body like an electric current.

His head was throbbing, his vision doubled until he stood upright again, and suddenly there was a sharp focus to the room that hadn’t been there before, as if it had been dark before and someone had suddenly turned on the lights. His heartbeat was rushed, and he might have thought it was because of his fall, because of the adrenaline that was surely coursing through his veins, because of the Knight of Hell standing right before him, if it didn’t freaking _hurt_ every time his heart beat, if he didn’t _feel_ it ache and burn in his chest like there was an invisible hand squeezing it through his ribcage. He was suffocating and it was at the same time terrifying and exhilarating.

“How does it feel, Dean?” Cain’s voice suddenly snapped the hunter out of his trance, and he looked up at Cain’s face, finding the demon watching him with an almost envious look in his eyes, “Holding the Blade again?”

Dean swallowed, his fist closing painfully around the handle of the Blade, so strongly he briefly wondered if his tendons could actually burst because of it. His hand was shaking, but he had no idea how to make it stop; had no idea if it was even possible at this point. He glanced over at Cas, who was trying to get back to his feet, another thin trail of fresh crimson blood quickly making its way down his forehead and over to his chin. The Mark flared even more, screaming at him to go to Cas, to kill him, to shove the Blade into the angel’s chest, to imagine the heat of his Grace bursting and wasting away as the angel died.

The taste of acid made him cringe as it assaulted his mouth, and he swallowed again, shoving those thoughts away and doing everything he could to ignore the Mark. This had been what Dean had been afraid of. He hadn’t only feared what Cain might do to Cas or to anyone else who entered the ring with Dean. No, Dean had also been terrified that _he_ might do something to that someone, and right now he was painfully aware of that fear.

Pushing all those thoughts aside, Dean focused on the faint pain on his side from where he had landed on it earlier, the panic he still felt in his very core, the reason why he was doing this in the first place. He focused on Cas’ face, eyes wide and panicked as he watched Dean, his deep blue eyes resting on the Blade and then going back up to meet the hunter’s gaze, his eyes so full of worry it was actually a sobering sight for Dean. He even cast a glance at Gabriel, who seemed to be having a very hard time trying to breathe on the floor a few feet away, still clearly in a lot of pain from whatever spell Cain had cooked up.

“It feels like a means to an end,” Dean let out, looking down at the Blade then back at Cain, who merely raised an eyebrow at the statement.

Dean pounced. Stepping forward, he swung the Blade through the air, trying to hit Cain’s head, or at least his neck, but the demon dodged his blows effortlessly, grabbing Dean’s arm and pushing him with enough strength to send him flying back a little, though not enough to knock him off his feet again.

Dean tried again, and once more he barely delivered a few blows to Cain, who punched Dean in the ribs. The demon’s target had been his stomach, but Dean had been quick enough to turn his body and receive the punch to his ribcage. His stomach couldn’t take any blows, under any circumstances, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

Cain did manage to throw him off balance that time, and Dean twisted his body so he could roll over without resting any weight on his stomach or hitting it in any way, letting his shoulder take most of the impact from the fall before quickly rising to his feet once more, the Blade still tightly gripped in his hand.

“You’re weaker than what I would have expected from you with the Blade,” Cain commented, circling Dean like a vulture would do to wounded, dying animal, “I think you can do better.” He punched Dean, this time in the face, and pushed him once more, and Dean fell to the ground again.

His face hurt, his jaw burned, and he wondered if Cain had cracked something. The guy was a freaking demon, and the blow hurt a lot. But Dean forced himself to ignore the pain, and it was easier with the Mark chanting and telling him to fight, to get up, that he could take the demon.

Cain punched him again when he was down, and Dean spit out blood from what he assumed were cuts inside his mouth. Squeezing his mouth shut, Dean opened his eyes to look up at Cain, who loomed over him like a tower.

“You’re holding back,” Cain commented, before throwing another punch.

And suddenly Cain was being pushed to the side, spinning around and throwing a punch at whoever had tried to attack him from behind.

Cas all but yelped when Cain punched him two, three times on the face but the angel kept fighting, trying to get a few punches in himself, although they seemed to have close to no effect on Cain, like the demon barely felt them, like they barely itched as they hit his skin. One particular punch to Cas’ stomach had the angel doubling over, and Cain held him like that, unmoving, his grip on the angel’s already broken arm clearly painful. The fact that it still hadn't healed worried Dean, along with the phantom pain he felt in his stomach, which he knew couldn't hurt the baby because he hadn't actually been hit there, but it was still enough to give him a brief moment of clarity.

“You’re pitiful, Castiel,” the demon commented, before throwing Cas across the room like he did with Dean, although the angel flew a lot farther, breaking a window and ending up in an adjacent room.

Cain turned back at Dean, who was once more trying to get to his feet, although this time he didn’t charge against the demon, because he could already see it; could already realize that this fight was already lost, no matter the outcome. Just holding the Blade was already doing a lot more damage than he’d thought it would, and he was terrified of what might happen if he did kill Cain right then. But if he didn’t, then what would Cain do to them? He would kill them, or at least Dean, and that was something else they had to avoid.

“And so are you, Dean,” Cain took a few more steps toward the human, his presence even heavier and seeming more dangerous than before. He grabbed Dean’s arm, twisting it around his back, and Dean let out a scream as he felt the bone snapping just as Cas’ had, his shoulder snapping out of place. He gritted his teeth together, closing his eyes and trying to break his arm free, but Cain’s hold was steel again his skin and he couldn’t do it.

The demon was suddenly pushing him to the ground, and it was only then that Dean realized that Cain had broken the arm with which Dean had been holding onto the Blade. He tried to get it, tried reaching out to grab the Blade before the demon could, but it flew from the floor before he could touch it and suddenly it was in Cain’s hand, who was staring at it like it as the first time he was seeing it, like he hadn't been holding it earlier. He twisted it around in his hand, his eyes all but sparkling in delight as he admired the cursed thing, and yet another chill ran through Dean’s spine, panic surging through his entire being like it hadn’t before.

Dean tried to get up again, tried to pull the Blade from the demon, because this wasn’t something that he had planned, hadn’t even thought it would happen, hadn’t prepared himself for what he would do if Cain somehow won the fight and got his hands on the Blade, although now he realized he should have considered it.

Cain stopped him easily, holding him by his throat and all but strangling him. Dean tried to lessen the grip of the demon around his neck, but all he could do was slap his arm a few times as he did his best not to suffocate, his lungs burning by the sudden lack of oxygen they were receiving. He knew he must be growing red in the face, but all he could do was keep struggling against the Knight’s hold, although that was bringing him no result whatsoever.

"You..." Dean coughed, his lungs and throat begging for him not to talk, but he forced the words out of his mouth, even though he knew they wouldn't change a thing, "You told me... that this day would come. That I... That I would have to kill you."

Another amused look flood Cain's eyes, though this one looked even more twisted than the others. Now that he had the Blade in his hand again, Cain looked even more psychotic than he had before. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood me, Dean." He lifted the hand tolding the blade, twisting it around in his hand once more, his eyes fixated on it like it was the most important thing in the world. "When Castiel found my burial site, I thought about ending him; squatting him like a fly." A wave of dread washed over Dean's insides at the single thought of that happening, but he did his best not to let his reaction show. "But I didn't. Instead, I let him go, knowing full well that he would report back to you. I knew that you would bring into the battle the one thing I wanted the most, the one thing I told you to find for me months ago. And just holding it again makes me wonder how I ever had the power to resist."

Closing his eyes for a second, Dean mentally cursed himself. This had all been a trap. Cain had planned for Dean to bring him the Blade even back then, and Dean had been stupid enough to do it, to deliver it to him on a fucking silver platter.

When he opened his eyes again, Cain was just staring at him, eyeing and studying him even more heavily than before. Dean would be bothered by it if he wasn’t struggling to freaking breathe right then. “I’m doing you a favor, Dean," He pulled Dean up from the floor then, bringing his face closer to the demon's, and Dean couldn't help but flinch at it, "I’m saving you.” Without hesitance, he threw Dean to the floor once more, and the human groaned as he fell, his back aching due to the impact. His entire body was aching by then, but all he could do was pant as he tried to stand again, but Cain was still hovering over him and holding him down by the throat, so all he could do again was struggle against the demon’s hold.

“Cain… Please, don’t…” Dean hadn’t meant to beg. He had never been the kind of person to beg for his life like this. He had always been the one to go down swinging, and maybe he'd just always been too prideful to do it, but he had never done this before. But this time, his life wasn’t the only one of the line here, and he couldn’t let anything happen to Cas or their child.

Cain’s hold wavered at the sound, and he looked genuinely surprised to hear those words. He paused, looking for something in Dean’s face, until he seemed to find it. His eyes grew sharper without warning and focused on something close to Dean’s collarbone, and at first Dean had no idea what he had seen or why Cain’s eyes grew even more curious than before all of a sudden, why he lifted his hand to touch Dean near the neck, to pull his shirt open one more button. Dean had no idea why he was doing it, until the demon let out a huffed laugh, a dry sound that rang through the air a moment later. It didn't sound amused, though.

“Of course,” Cain was shaking his head, and suddenly he was looking back at Dean in the eye, but the expression on the demon’s face had changed. It was back to what it had been when they had been talking, the cold, calculating and oddly calm face that seemed so sure he had a mission, that he was doing the right thing by killing all those people. “You’re not begging for your life, just like you are not trying to find a cure for yourself. Do you not see it, Dean?”

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes for a second because he knew exactly what Cain had seen. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized that maybe Cain would know what it as for, why he was wearing it.

The amulet.

“Do you even know what nephilims are, Dean?” Cain’s hold on Dean’s throat became tighter, and the hunter had trouble to breathe once again, but just like before he could not manage to push Cain off and yank himself free. “Vile, monstrous creatures? I’ll be doing this world a favor by ending your life right now, before this thing can be born.” Cain raised the Blade again, “You’ll thank me for this, Dean. You both will.”

Cain started to lower his arm, going straight for Dean's chest.

And suddenly the Knight's hand was not attached to his arm anymore.

Cas was standing beside them, having come out of freaking nowhere, panting with his Angel Blade clutched in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white. The blade was stained with red, covered with the demon’s blood from where Cas had used it to cut Cain’s freaking hand off.

Cain let out a strangled scream of pain as his hold on Dean grew weak enough for the hunter to get free. Dean pushed him off to the side, grabbing the Blade that had fallen to the side beside the severed hand and getting back to his feet, glancing down at the Knight who was doing nothing but clutch at what was left of his arm.

Dean stood before him for a long moment, waiting for Cain to say something, do something, but the demon had apparently gone catatonic. He wasn’t moving, nor was he making any sound; he was just kneeling there, his head bowed forward, his eyes closed, breathing just a little heavier, almost like he was trying to calm himself somehow. Dean had no idea what to expect from him then, but he decided to wait, Cas unmoving by his side, although his posture showed that the angel was ready to move at any sign that Cain might attack again.

“You are fighting a lost battle, Dean.” Finally, Cain looked back up, and Dean was surprised by the look on the demon’s face. His eyes were calm, just like they had been before, but the fight, the determination that had been so clear on his face had all but vanished, leaving in its trace nothing but pure resignation, like the fight had completely left him now that the Blade had been taken from him and he had just given up completely. “You both know that, and yet here you are, clinging to a last shimmer of hope that will lead you nowhere.”

Cain looked back and forth between them now, and for the first time he wasn’t looking at Cas with that air of superiority he had been pulling off perfectly since they’d first entered this barn. No, there was actually pity in his eyes, and Dean wasn’t sure which one had him more worried, which one more bothered him the most.

“You are cursed, Dean, and now I finally understand that by extent so are you Castiel. And this child…” He shook his head, the gesture weak and without any force, looking like it actually took a lot of effort from Cain, “It cannot be born.”

Dean’s hold on the Blade tightened, because those words brought up the exact same train of thought he had been trying to ignore since he had first found out about the baby. Nephilims had been outlawed for a reason, and while Cas had assured him that nephilims were not dark, evil creatures by nature, Dean couldn’t help but wonder if they were, if maybe Cas was just being hopeful here, just like Dean was when he refused to think about it.

What if Cain was right? What if their child was actually cursed? What if Dean bearing the Mark while carrying it only made it worse?

“I’m going to ask this one last time,” Dean forced the words out of his mouth through his gritted teeth, pushing those thoughts way for now because he could not, in any way, let Cain get to him, not right now. “Is there a cure for the Mark? Anything, Cain, and I’m really talking anything here.”

Cain tilted his head to the side, his eyes growing even sharper than before, heavier, more focused. “You have no idea what you’re truly asking for, Dean. And that makes me wonder…” A small, sick smile spread over the demon's lips, and it made a feeling of uneasiness settle in Dean's stomach yet again, “Perhaps it would be best if you succeeded.”

Dean frowned, unsure what to make of that comment.

“So there is a way to succeed?” Cas stepped forward, a lot closer to Cain than Dean would like him to be, but Cain made no move to attack him. The demon barely glanced up at the angel before lowering his head, and from then on he said nothing.

Dean and Cas waited. Somehow they thought maybe Cain would say something eventually, that the fact that they were both towering over him might be able to convince him to say something else, to give them any other information, which he seemed to have, but that didn’t happen. Minutes went on and Cain said nothing, just stayed kneeled on the floor with his head bowed and eyes closed, hand clutching what remained of his arm as he seemed to be waiting for something.

At some point Dean glanced over at Cas, only to find a resigned look in the angel’s eyes, one that Dean instantly understood; knew what it meant without any words being said between them. Because it was obvious to him too, that Cain was not going to tell them anything else; he had already said more than they had expected him to.

The angel nodded once, the gesture clearly strained, his eyes letting on just how much he wished he should not be doing this, that he didn’t agree with what he was wordlessly telling Dean to do. But Cas knew this had to be done, just as Dean knew it. Cain knew about the nephilim, and that left them with no other choice, so the hunter gripped the Blade even more tightly in his hand and rounded Cain slowly.

“Tell me… that I can stop, please.” The words were out before Dean could stop them, before he could even think about them, because they had been dangling on the tip of his tongue since the very beginning of his whole thing but only now did he allow them to jump out.

Cain did raise his head once more, his voice low and almost raw as he said, “I will never stop.”

Dean closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he stood behind Cain, each word a punch to his chest. That hadn’t what he had wished to hear, although it certainly wasn’t unexpected.

Another thunder ripped through the air, making the barn shake. It was only then that Dean noticed there was apparently a storm brewing outside, the wind sounding loudly against the walls of the structure.

Before he could hesitate, Dean raised the Blade, a scream tearing out of his lips as he brought it down with all the strength he could muster, feeling it tear through the skin and into the body before him easily and without much resistance.

He screamed again, this time in pain. His entire arm lit up in flames, burning and hurting like the skin was trying to melt off the bones. Dean tried to let go of the Blade, but he couldn’t move his hand, not even when he felt his knees giving out under him. Thunder rang through the air once more somewhere far away, but Dean’s ears were ringing in no time and then he couldn’t hear it anymore.

His entire body hurt, like he had been lit on fire from the inside out, his blood replaced with battery acid, his lungs filled with lava. His vision was filled with light, a golden brightness from which he could not bring himself to look away from, no matter how much it hurt his eyes, because he just couldn’t _move._

_You’re mine, Dean, and you’re always going to be mine._

Dean gritted his teeth together, closing his eyes at last, trying to ignore the voice inside his head, but it only got louder, stronger, because Dean had just given it exactly what the Mark wanted—a kill, and not just a human kill, or a monster, or a demon. No, this was Cain, the Father of Murder himself, who had just perished under his hands and the Mark was feasting on it, devouring the energy it gave him, the power that was cursing through Dean’s body, damning him to nothing but pain even though he could feel his muscles growing stronger.

Because the power the Mark gave him wasn’t pure, wasn’t good. It was tainted, bloody and cursed, and it hurt to have it, to use it, to feed the Mark in any way.

_There’s no running. There’s no hiding. You are mine, Dean, and nothing will change that._

Dean could feel arms around him, and maybe there were voices too, but he wasn’t sure, because the voice inside his head was too loud and his ears couldn’t work, just as his eyes had stopped working too. Everything was dark and black around him, his body felt light and numb at the same time, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but succumb to the weight of the darkness that suddenly descended upon him.

He felt his arm being pulled, and then he could tell the Blade had slipped from his hand, but the pain didn't stop because of it. If anything, it actually got worse.

His stomach was burning, and that alone was enough to give him strength to fight, because he knew this couldn’t be good. The Mark was trying to hurt the nephilim, and he couldn’t let that happen.

But he couldn’t fight. He felt weaker by the second, and he knew the Mark was the one doing it, making him lose his consciousness so he couldn’t fight, and although he still tried to, clawed his way through the thickness that tried to pull him under, he couldn’t break free. He could taste blood in his mouth, could feel it in his lungs, making his head spin with the lack of oxygen. His head throbbed and his heart was beating painfully inside his chest and all he could do was try to stay conscious, because he was honestly terrified of what would happen if he didn’t.

_You are mine, Dean. Don’t fight it. I’ll take care of you. Don’t fight it._

Pain flared through his nerve endings, washing over his body in waves that flooded his insides with pure agony. It felt like fire, lava pouring into his very soul, filling up his body on the inside and burning him, melting his flesh right off his bones. He opened his mouth to scream, and yet no sound came out. He couldn’t see anything anymore, his entire world suddenly being limited to the empty darkness around him, the blackness of pure nothingness that trapped him in his own personal Hell.

He could hear screams, he thought. They sounded far away and not real at all, and yet he knew they were. Somewhere off in the distance, someone was screaming his name, or for help, he couldn’t know. He didn’t know how to find out either.

No, he was too busy burning to actually try to figure out where exactly the screams were coming from, and who was screaming in the first place.

And for a fleeting moment, just before he blacked out, as the flames at last managed to swallow him whole, Dean wondered if this was what his mother felt before she died.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam could hear thunder outside.

It had started slow, just a low rumble in the distance, like a storm coming in gradually, although the sky had been completely clear just an hour ago. The sound of it coming from far away had started soon after Dean and Cas had entered the barn, and it had only gotten worse since then. It had grown in volume quite fast, so much that soon enough the growl of the storm sounded so loud that the entire place shook with the force of it, with the intensity of the mechanical waves traveling through the air around it. The inside of the barn felt loaded with some sort of heavy energy that made the air thinner, harder to breathe. It was almost suffocating.

The wind whipped against the walls nonstop now, and for a moment Sam wondered if they were in the eye of a hurricane, because it surely seemed like they were. It was like the storm knew what was happening inside that barn and wanted to make itself known, either showing support or voicing vehemently against it, Sam couldn't know which.

The hair on the back of his neck and on his arms rose every time another thunder cut through the air, a bitter, nerve wrecking feeling settling in his gut as he remembered what had happened when Dean had taken on Abaddon, how the entire room had pretty much looked like a small private storm. With every minute he became surer that the storm brewing outside actually had something to do with what was happening here, because this wasn’t a simple Knight of Hell, Dean and Cas were in there to take on Cain himself, so of course the effects of killing him would be bigger than they had been with Abaddon.

He wasn't sure just how worried he should be about that.

Sam’s self-control to not just burst through those freaking doors was wearing thinner with every moment. He had started pacing not one minute after Dean and Cas had been out of sight at the top of the stairs, and he was pretty sure he was growing very close to drawing a hole on the floor with his repeated, endless steps around the room.

Crowley would constantly roll his eyes at him and feign annoyance basically all the time, but the demon would never say anything, and Sam knew very well why. Crowley wasn’t as calm and collected as he was trying to let on, not when his own throne was hanging by a thread at the moment, not when his own life might be at stake here as well. Crowley did believe he was in Cain's list, after all.

Sam’s resolve broke eventually.

The scream that cut through the air was truly a surprise, making Sam pause his pacing at last as he jumped in surprise. It echoed through the entire barn for only a moment, although it played endlessly inside Sam’s head after it was over. He was frozen for a second before it really sunk in that it had been _Dean_  who had screamed, such a pained, desperate sound that Sam had barely managed to register it fully.

He was running a moment later, and he hadn’t even realized he had started up the stairs until he was already taking the steps two at a time and was halfway up the wooden structure. It whined against the pressure applied by his feet, against the speed of his steps, the weight being pressed to the worn, old wood with more urgency than prudence should allow it, but Sam didn’t care.

The scene inside the barn made him freeze on his spot.

He could see Cas first, the beige trench coat obscuring some of the view, and for a moment everything blurred together into one slow motion picture his brain couldn't quite process fully. He couldn’t see what was happening clearly. The first thing he noticed was that there was someone lying on the floor, no, there were two forms on the floor, and only one of them was giving any sign of life, groaning and moving to the side. In the center of the room, close to the unmoving form, Sam now understood that Cas was holding another body in his arms, trying to keep them up on their feet but not quite managing it, and he couldn’t _see who…_

Dean. Cas was holding _Dean_.

Sam let out a heavy, strained breath when he realized that the motionless figure lying on the floor was Cain, and not his brother. Another glance to the side provided him the realization that the other occupant of the room, the one groaning in pain and apparently trying to get up but failing to do it for some reason Sam couldn't fathom, was Gabriel. His eyes lingered on the archangel for only a moment, finding it weird seeing him after years of believing he had been dead, even though Sam had known the guy was alive for weeks now.

Turning his gaze back to Dean and Cas, Sam felt relief flood his chest when he noticed that Dean was moving slightly. Dean was  _alive_. He had actually done it. He'd...

His relief was shattered into a million pieces just a second later, because that was when he realized that Dean was freaking _convulsing_.

"Dean!" Without another thought, he ran up to Cas, barely registering he was moving at all until he was already beside the angel, his arms reaching forward and gripping his brother’s side, trying to help Cas keep Dean up because the angel was clearly having a hard time doing it.

“What’s happening to him?” he asked, spotting a trail of blood running down Dean’s forehead and over his cheek, all the way down to his chin. There were bruises all over his face. What really worried Sam, however, was the way Dean was thrashing and coughing up blood, his mouth apparently full of it. They had to keep his head up, or else he might suffocate because of it, and why the hell wasn’t Cas helping him? What…? “Cas?”

It was only then that Sam realized how weak Cas’ hold on his brother was. The angel was pale, face bruised, his eyes wide and startled as he glanced up to meet Sam’s gaze for just a moment. The look on his face was empty, eyes almost glazed over, as if made of glass, like he wasn't actually there. The angel choked up a little as well, a mouthful of blood appearing between his parted lips as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and suddenly Cas was dead weight too and the three of them tumbled to the ground, Sam struggling to keep them both up or at least try to soften the fall and not let them fall over each other, but barely managing it.

This was not good. This was _so_ not good.

Up this close, it was even clearer that Cain was dead. The stab wound on his back was visible, the tear in his coat coated with blood and open, but Sam spared it only a glance. The Blade had been tossed to the side, just a few steps away from where he was, but he also paid it no mind.

No, he had much more important matters to tend to at the moment.

Looking back and forth between Dean and Cas, Sam had no idea who he should worry about more, who he should tend to first. Because this must be the Mark’s doing, of course it was. Based on everything he was seeing, he could only imagine Dean had been the one to kill Cain and not Gabriel, and that must have given the Mark an energy burst or something, that had to be it, and now it was trying to hurt Dean, but Cas was linked to Dean, and what if this was Cas’ Grace burning out? What if this was the Mark killing Dean and Cas?

They were both dying right in front of his eyes and he had no idea what to do to stop it.

This had been a doomed idea from the start. This whole plan had been bound to end terribly, and Sam had known that, but why had he allowed it to happen, then? He should have stopped Dean, he shouldn’t have let him do this. He should—

Movement caught his eye to the side, and he raised his head to watch as Crowley slowly walked toward him. For a moment he believed the demon was moving toward where he was, still kneeled on the floor over Dean and Cas’ unconscious forms, but he soon realized they were not what the demon had his eyes fixated on.

The Blade was still on the floor a few steps away from him, and the bastard wanted it, of course he did. They had agreed to give it back to him when this was over, although Sam’s wish was to not follow through with that promise, because Crowley of all people should not have something with that much power in his hands.

Sam was ready to get up, to run up to the Blade and grab it, to do anything to stop Crowley from getting the thing, even though he knew maybe any effort from his part wouldn’t work, not with the demon at full power and him without a weapon in hand. All that was needed was a flick of the demon’s wrist and the Blade would be flying through the air and landing right on his hand, but Sam had to try anyway.

He didn't even get the chance to do anything, though. He had barely bent his knees to get to his feet when the Blade was up in the air, pulled by what seemed to be an invisible force, and for a second Sam was about to let out a curse at Crowley’s demonic telekinesis.

Until he realized it hadn’t been Crowley who had moved the Blade.

No, because who was standing just a few feet away, First Blade in hand and staring at Crowley with a clear challenge in his eyes, apparently having recovered from whatever had been happening to him a minute ago, was no other than Gabriel.

Sam was surprised to see him standing, but he had to admit he was a little relieved. He didn't trust Gabriel, but he trusted Crowley even less, so he just stayed there, kneeling and unmoving, watching as the scene before him unfolded and hoping that if a fight broke out, the archangel had recovered enough to stand his ground against a strong demon like Crowley.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gabriel seemed taller than he actually was when he said it, and Sam could hear the certainty in his voice, the clear note of a confidence that didn’t come only from smugness, but from actual power. He was stronger than Crowley, of course he was, and he knew Crowley knew it.

The demon glared at Gabriel, but there was a shift in his eyes, the understanding of what clearly would be a lost battle. He had no fight in this, not against an archangel, so all he did was send one glance over to where Sam was, his eyes flitting over Dean and Cas for just a second before he turned to look back at Gabriel, who had not yet moved.

And then Crowley was gone.

Gabriel entire body sagged a moment later, like all the strength he’d gathered for that show had just left him at once, his face growing all the more pale all of a sudden, and Sam had no idea what could drain an archangel like that, wondered what had happened in this barn that he wasn't aware of.

So he had been bluffing.

Taking a breath, Gabriel finally moved, tucking the Blade on the inside of his jacket, and Sam wanted to say something about that, but he didn't. So he just watched as the archangel stalked over to where he was, Gabriel's steps uncertain, like he was off balance somehow. He sank down right beside Sam and his hand flew Cas’ forehead, and then Dean’s. He looked sick, like he might just topple over at any second, and yet he still seemed intent on checking on them.

“I knew these two would do something like this,” He shook his head, not even sparing Sam a glance, “It’s a surprise you let them, though.”

That was enough to snap Sam out of his stupor, and he swallowed drily, because those words sent his mind right back to the train of thought that had been passing through his head just before Crowley had showed up. “I tried to stop them, but they just…”

Gabriel scoffed, but Sam knew the archangel knew exactly what he meant.

"Cas prayed to you, though. And you didn't answer," Sam pointed out. He knew this might not be the best time for the comment, because he didn't truly want to blame Gabriel for this, but that wasn't enough to quiet down the voice in the back of his head that insisted maybe this wouldn't have happened if Gabriel had showed up the first time Cas had called him days ago.

Gabriel threw him a look that was almost a glare. "I came as fast as I could, Samuel. And I did get here in time, but Cain was a really freaking paranoid bastard."

Sam swallowed under the look in the archangel's eyes. “What’s wrong with them? Is it the Mark?” he asked, changing the focus of the conversation. Dean had stopped thrashing by now, thankfully, but he was still shaking a little. He didn't seem to be choking anymore, and neither did Cas, their breathing seeming to be slowly going back to normal.

Gabriel nodded, his eyes moving back to the unconscious pair as he felt Cas’ pulse on the angel’s neck, two fingers pressed against the skin just above where the carotid artery should be. He shook his head. “That’s my only guess. Dean’s heart is beating like crazy, but Castiel’s heartrate is dropping fast. The Mark is taking a hit on the soul bond right now.”

Sam’s stomach dropped at those words, and he swallowed again. He hadn't been happy that Dean seemed to intent on keeping this bond because he had known something like this could happen at some point, but he hadn’t expected it to be this fast. And now the Mark was lashing out and there was nothing he could do about it but watch as it tried to kill them both at once. “Can you do something to stop it?”

Gabriel had completely abandoned Cas by then, his attention solely on Dean, checking his eyes by lifting the lids and feeling his pulse then his temperature again, and the flinch that took over his eyebrows was definitely not a good sign. “I can try. Close your eyes.”

Gabriel’s hand lit up, and while it was slightly painful to look at the angelic light, all the human did was narrow his eyes at first. Sam watched as Gabriel rested both hands on Dean—one over his brother's chest and one on his stomach, both of them shining with power, and then closed his eyes, brows furrowing in what Sam understood as concentration. Sam had no idea what the archangel was doing, but all he could do was hope with all his being that it would work.

The light in Gabriel’s hands grew stronger, so much that at one point Sam had to close his eyes, turning his head as his arm rose up to his face to block out the unnatural, harmful brightness. A white noise filled his years, and it hurt. He knew it was coming from Gabriel—from his Grace—and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t find his voice to try to speak over it, to ask if whatever he was doing was working.

It was over soon enough.

When the light ceased, Sam let his arm fall, squinting and blinking a few times, cursing as his vision was filled with dots from the prolonged exposure to the angelic light, which still lingered in his eyes and made seeing a lot harder than it should be. He could speak now, though, so he quickly asked, “Did it work?”

A pained gasp startled Sam, and he forced his eyes to cooperate, finally managing to focus his vision on the archangel.

The sight that greeted his eyes was definitely a surprise.

Gabriel looked even paler than before. He was panting, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin, like he was human and had just run a marathon wearing winter clothes. He looked exhausted and about to pass out, and Sam actually considered holding his arm to try and hold him up just in case he was actually about to faint, but he didn’t, instead remaining on his spot kneeled between Dean and Cas, his hand still gripped tightly against his brother’s shoulder. He had completely stopped shaking now, so that was a relief.

“What the hell was that?”

Gabriel closed his eyes, continuing to pant for a few seconds before he finally managed to let something out, but his voice was still wheezy, breaking with his labored breathing, “Killing Cain gave the Mark an energy boost. It… tried to harm them. I countered the energy with my Grace to burn out as much of it as I could instead of letting Castiel's Grace do it, but if I do any more, it might actually kill me. I’m too weak for it. Cain had a spell to incapacitate me ready, kinda caught me off guard, took a whole deal of my strength with it.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise, both at the fact that Gabriel had pretty much just risked his life for his brother and Cas, and also at the fact that the Mark actually had the power to kill an archangel. If it could do that, then what could it do to Dean and Cas?

“What about the rest of it?”

Gabriel shook his head weakly, but at least his breathing was slowly going back to normal. He was still sickly pale, though, and Sam was still not sure if the guy wouldn’t just pass out right then and there. It was still a very real possibility, by the looks of it.

“Cas’ Grace will have to handle it. It would have killed him before, had I not done something, but I think he can manage now.”

Sam’s throat felt dry at those words, his tongue heavy and lethargic in his mouth, but he still manage to force the words out, “And what if he can’t?”

Gabriel did not respond; all he did was give Sam a heavy stare, one so clouded Sam couldn’t believe it was actually coming from him, that looked so wrong on the face he had come to recognize as the Trickster’s that he could not find his voice to say anything more.

“You should get them to that Batcave of yours. It’s safer there.”

“Safer?” Sam couldn’t understand what exactly that could mean; how that could possibly change the Mark situation. It’s not like they had to hide from anyone right now. Cain was dead, and sure, maybe Crowley could pose a threat, because not having the Blade probably made him uneasy, but the demon knew where the Bunker was, so what was the point in hiding there? “From what?”

Gabriel didn’t look at Sam, just stretched his hand over to Dean’s neck, pulling at the string that Sam just then noticed there. It looked like a necklace, the chord wrapped around Dean’s neck dark and old-looking, kind of worn, honestly. He had no idea what could be hanging from it, since he hadn’t even noticed Dean had been wearing a necklace at all up until that moment.

The archangel pulled at the necklace slowly, and soon a small object came out of hiding from the inside of Dean’s shirt.

Sam had never seen it before. It was an amulet of some sorts, made of wood, or at least it looked like it. There were engravings all over it, and Sam was pretty sure some of those were Enochian.

Sam had no idea what they meant, though. He couldn’t recognize over half of them.

“What’s that?” he asked, trying to get a good look at it, but Gabriel was quickly putting it back where it had been and Sam didn’t have the chance to look.

“No idea,” Gabriel shrugged, but there was a clear shift in his voice, and something told Sam the answer wasn’t completely honest, “Maybe a gift from his boyfriend, who knows.” Sam wanted to respond, but the archangel didn’t give him the chance, abruptly getting to his feet and not even waiting a second before announcing, “Get them out of here, and fast.”

The sound of wings beating filled Sam’s years, startling him after years of not hearing it anymore after all the angels Fell and lost their ability to fly because of their shredded wings. A current of moved air hit Sam in the face, and he blinked.

Gabriel was gone, and with him, so went Cain’s body.

Sam still stayed unmoving for a while, just trying to process everything that had just happened, but soon enough he managed to snap out of his trance and forced his mind to go back into work mode. With a clenching heart, Sam dug into Dean’s pockets, soon enough finding the keys to the Impala in one of the inside pockets of his brother's jacket.

With a jump, Sam rose to his feet, still feeling a little out of sorts but quickly regaining his balance as he had tried to start running before he was actually back standing. He didn’t let that slow him down, and quickly enough (although not nearly as quickly as he would have liked to) he was at the Impala, jumping inside and driving it as close to the barn as he could, parking it by the entrance.

The next twenty minutes were spent with Sam doing the two trips into the barn to fetch both Dean and Cas, grunting under their respective weights and struggling to arrange the two in the backseat, resting each one of them against a door. He almost cursed Gabriel for not teleporting the two into the car for him, but he held back from doing it as he remembered the archangel's pale face. Just taking Cain's body with him might have already been pushing it for someone in his state. So Sam managed it on his own, and then wasted no time in starting up the engine again and speeding away from the farm.

It was only when he swerved the Impala into a highway that Sam allowed himself to breathe normally again. He still had no idea what Gabriel could possibly have been fearful of, but he didn’t want to take any risks, and if there could possibly be something coming after them, if Dean and Cas could be in any danger, then he had to get them back to the Bunker. He had no idea what he was running from, though, and honestly, it would have been nice to know.

Glancing back at the backseat with the help of the rearview mirror, Sam checked on Dean, before focusing his sight on Cas.

“Come on, Cas, you can do this,” he whispered, even though he was pretty sure the angel could not hear him. It was all he could do right now, though—hope, pray that Cas had enough Grace in him to save both of them, because if he didn't… “Please, Cas.”

Gripping the steering wheel more tightly, so much that his knuckles whitened under the stress, Sam stepped onto the gas, and the Impala surged through the highway even faster, roaring through the night as he sped his way over the road, headed back to Kansas.

He couldn’t do anything to help his brother and Cas right now, but he could drive them to a safe location, somewhere they could rest and hopefully fight whatever it was that the Mark was doing to them.

And he could only hope that would be enough.

***~*~*~*~***

It had been hours.

It had been hours since they had trapped Cain inside that barn.

It had been hours since Dean and Cas had walked into the barn with the First Blade.

It had been hours since Dean had killed Cain.

It had been hours since Dean and Cas had been unconscious.

It had been hours since Gabriel had disappeared with Cain’s body and the Blade.

It had been hours since Sam had placed both Dean and Cas in the car’s backseat and sped his way back to the Bunker.

It had been hours since he’d parked the Impala in the Bunker’s garage and somehow managed to bring both Dean and Cas inside.

It had been hours since he’d placed them both on Dean’s bed, side by side. There had been a moment of doubt about sides, but then he realized that was completely irrelevant at the moment and placed Dean on the left and Cas on the right one.

It had been hours since he'd tended to the cuts and bruises on both of their faces, cleaning away the dry blood that had insistently clung to their skin.

It had been hours since he’d started pacing around the room, glancing at Dean and Cas every few seconds, as if his silent, wordless pleading would somehow be enough to wake them.

It had been hours since his legs had grown tired and he’d relented to sitting down on the chair by the corner of the bedroom.

Exhaustion had started to make itself known a while ago, but Sam refused to let himself rest. He had fetched a book from the library at some point, leaving the room for only a minute in order to look for it, and now it rested on his lap as he forced his eyes to focus on the words.

At every sound, he would look up and over to the bed. Eventually a grunt, a whine, small sounds of discomfort or maybe even pain would come from one of them, but never would they open their eyes. So every time it happened Sam would look back down at his book with a heavy heart and an even bigger lump in his throat.

The book wasn’t much distraction. He was looking for the symbols he had seen on Dean’s necklace, which he'd gotten the chance to examine more closely once he had gotten them back in the Bunker. He was doing it mostly out of curiosity, but also because maybe it could be having some effect on Dean and he had no idea what it could be doing right now. Maybe it was helping Cas’ Grace somehow, but what if it was doing the opposite? He had no idea what it did, so he’d thought it better not to take it off, but he wanted to figure out what the engravings meant.

Only he couldn’t find anything on those symbols, and his lack of results in that front only made him more anxious, more nervous and frustrated.

“Don’t worry your pretty head so much, Moose. You might actually pull something.”

Sam jumped on his seat, the book that had been sitting on his lap quickly falling to the floor by his feet with a thud. He reached to the side, grabbing the Angel Blade he had kept by the chair as a precaution and holding it up with a firm hand.

Crowley’s only reaction was one raised eyebrow.

“What do you want, Crowley? The Blade is not here.”

The demon considered Sam for a long, tense moment before he finally seemed to grow less tense, and although his shoulders were still stiff, there was a clear shift in his eyes, in his posture somehow. His voice was surprisingly calm as he commented, “I was not made aware that there was still an archangel on the loose.”

“Neither were we until a few weeks ago,” Sam responded truthfully, “Gabriel knows how to hide.”

Crowley nodded curtly, his eyes resting on the unconscious pair on the bed. His gaze was almost detached, though. “Dean never meant to keep his word, did he?”

Sam frowned, because the tone in the demon’s voice was almost disappointed, like he actually cared that Dean might have lied to him or fooled him somehow. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t know for sure, although he was pretty sure Dean hadn’t had any intention on giving Crowley the Blade again once he had dealed with Cain.

Crowley just kept looking at Dean and Cas, this weird look in his eyes, and for some reason it made Sam a little uncomfortable. He felt like there something going on in Crowley’s head that he wasn’t aware of.

Slowly, Sam let his hand drop, although he didn’t let go of the Angel Blade. Crowley’s stance was not at all threatening, but with him, you just could never be too careful. He was a demon, after all.

“He did lie, though,” For some reason, the words flew from his mouth. He wasn’t sure what drove him to say them, but he did anyway, maybe because somehow he knew Dean would have, had he been conscious.

Crowley turned his head, raising an eyebrow in question, a silent request in his eyes for Sam to elaborate.

“You weren’t on Cain’s hit list.”

Crowley didn’t look surprised. His face was completely neutral, but for a moment, just a brief second, something appeared in his eyes, an understanding that Sam couldn’t entirely place. He nodded slowly, “I assume one of you were, however.”

Sam nodded in response. “Dean.”

One corner of Crowley’s mouth rose in misplaced amusement, like he had just been told a joke only he understood, but did not comment, instead moving his gaze to rest on Dean and Cas for yet another time. Sam wanted to say something in response, because suddenly there it was again, that feeling of being left out, of being out of the loop somehow, but he didn't, choosing to instead just watch Crowley silently. It was like the demon was looking for something, but Sam had no idea what that could possibly be. Crowley’s behavior since he had shown up was pretty confusing, if he was being completely honest.

“This was good for you too, Crowley, and you know it. One less Knight to worry about.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t. Cain has been making me nervous for months now. Your brother, however, definitely wins in that regard.”

That wasn’t exactly surprising. Dean could become a demon at any moment now, all it would take was Cas' Grace burning out, and his brother would again be a Knight of Hell, no less. And considering what had happened the last time that had happened, how hard it had been for Crowley to control him and how he had failed miserably at it, of course Crowley was bound to be nervous about a replay of those months.

Taking a few steps toward the bed, Crowley walked over to the bed, and Sam tensed up, but made no move to stop him. His grip tightened on his blade, however, his body prepared to react to any sign of a threat against anyone in that room.

The demon paused beside Dean, reaching out the same way Gabriel had and grabbing the amulet where it lay on Dean's chest, twisting it around in his hand, examining it carefully before letting it fall back where it had been resting against his brother’s collarbone.

“Why are you here, Crowley?” He hadn’t come to fight, apparently, so what other reason could the demon have to have showed up here? Crowley wasn’t the one to just stop by like this.

The demon was silent for a moment, his eyes traveling over the room, examining as if he cared at all. He was silent for so long Sam was sure he wouldn’t even respond, so it was a surprise when the demon’s voice cut through the air once more over a minute later.

“I was told I’m… a disappointment, a sad, bored little boy sitting on a throne.” Sam frowned, hearing a clear hint of bitterness in the demon’s voice. He had no idea who Crowley could be talking about, or why Crowley was telling him this, but he remained silent, nonetheless.

A humorless chuckle cut through the air, and suddenly Crowley’s entire demeanor changed again, like a mask was back up. He turned to look at Sam and all he saw was the same bored, mocking expression that he had been grown to see on the demon’s face all these years, but there was still a hint of something in his eyes that Sam couldn’t quite ignore.

Huh.

“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for in that book. That is very, very ancient Enochian. The angels don’t even use that dialect anymore, I believe.”

Sam swallowed, deciding to just ignore the previous part of the conversation, because honestly, it was easier to just pretend it had never happened. “And what does it mean? Can you read it?”

“I cannot read it,” Crowley replied calmly, leveling Sam with a suggesting look, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “But I do have an idea of why they are there.” He smirked, once more looking like there was something absolutely hilarious right in front of Sam's face that the human couldn't see, like he was part of a joke only Crowley knew of, and it was just as annoying as it had been the last time it had happened. “Open your eyes, Moose. You’re not as observant as you think.”

The demon smirked once more, and in the next second he was gone.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his hair, but all he could do was sit back down onto his chair, letting the blade in his hand fall to the floor beside his feet and letting himself fall backwards against the backrest with a huff. He had no idea what Crowley could have possibly meant by that, but he was too exhausted to even try to figure it out. His eyelids were already heavy, but he forced them to stay open.

A whimper made him glance back over to Dean and Cas.

It had come from Dean, Sam could immediately tell. His brother's head had turned a little to the side, and his hands had closed into fists at some point. His head turned from side to side a few times, and small, low pained sounds kept slipping through his lips.

Sam got to his feet again, gripping Dean’s shoulder and shaking it a little, although he knew it would not be enough to wake his brother.

But he still tried. He tried for as long as he could stay awake. He would shake Dean and Cas every few minutes, even when neither was making any noise, although Dean had stopped being quiet for a while. He would whine every few minutes, and at some point he had been mumbling. Sam had heard a ‘Stop, please,’ at some point, and that made his heart clench with worry inside his chest. He wished with everything he had that he could make them wake up, but he couldn’t.

He had to sit back down eventually, though, sleep finally getting the best of him. But he refused to leave Dean and Cas alone, so he decided to stay in their room and just wait for a miracle.

Because at that point, that was really all he could and do.

***~*~*~*~***

Dirt.

That was the first thing Dean noticed. There was dirt between his fingers and under his hands, as well as on his face, judging by the sticky, cold feeling he had on his cheek, the one his face was resting on. He blinked, lifting his head, wincing when his neck hurt, probably because of the position he had been lying on until then. His eyes burned because of the strong sunlight, but he forced them to stay open until his vision adjusted to the offending brightness.

He was in a field.

Sure enough, he was lying on the ground. Well, that explained the dirt. There was grass around him, plus a small path without any grass that led to a lake a few steps ahead. There were trees and hills all around him, for as far as he could see and in all directions, but they were far away, almost hazy to his eyes, seeming somehow unreachable.

The sky was clouded, the light that passed through and down to the ground finding its way through small breach. Other than that, there was only grayness, dimness.

The air was stale. Everything about this place felt weird, fake. There was a lightness to it, though, a calmness that felt unnatural. Everything was too quiet, too still. There were no bugs in the grass, no birds flying, no squirrels running around by the trees. There was no life around him and that made Dean uneasy, because this felt like a dream, but certainly not a normal one.

He didn’t feel panicked. He knew he should be preparing for a fight, or maybe to run, he wasn’t sure yet. His muscles should be tense, ready to take a blow or deliver it at any moment, to do something, at least, because that had been the way he had been raised, what he had learned over the years. Lack of preparation, of survival instinct, would only get him killed, as his father had drilled into his brain since a very young age, as the countless hunts he'd gone on over the course of his life had taught him.

But his body didn’t seem to find it necessary. He felt calm, like he knew nothing would happen to him here. All that washed over him as he looked around was calmness and curiosity to figure out where he was. And confusion, because he still had no freaking idea what this place even was or how he'd gotten here in the first place, even though he was fairly certain this must be happening inside his head or something. At least it felt like it.

“It’s pointless, isn’t it?”

Dean jumped, turning around, startled by the sudden sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from behind him. His reaction was merely out of surprise, he noticed, his body failing to tense up as he would expect it to. It was actually kind of frustrating.

A few steps away from him was standing a woman he had never seen before in his life. She was just standing there, not even looking at Dean. He couldn’t see her face clearly from where he was, only the sharp edge of her nose and the wavy curls of her hair that went all the way down to her shoulders. She was tall, skin tanned, her slim frame hugged tightly by the black dress she was wearing.

Dean just watched her for a moment, but he couldn’t be sure of what the right thing to do was here. He had no idea who or what she was, or where he was to begin with. So he just stood there, eyeing her, waiting for something to happen.

“Life, death,” she continued, sounding almost like she was talking more to herself than to him. She lifted her hand as a blue butterfly beat its way through the air and landed on her finger. It was the first sign of life in this place apart from the woman, and Dean had no idea where the insect had come from. "A caterpillar will spend its every living moment preparing for the time to change. And you know how long it spends as a butterfly? One, two weeks maybe." She turned her hand, staring at the butterfly so intensely, as if expecting it to talk to her, or at least do something. “It’s all so… irrelevant, isn’t it?” The butterfly began to burn then, turning into a crisp and crumbling as its ashes fell to the ground at her feet.

She lowered her hand slowly after that, but still didn't look at Dean, her eyes fixated on the mountains in the distance.

“Who the hell are you?” This whole thing was giving Dean chills, the whole place feeling oddly suffocating, like the air was thinner than it should be, like there was this weird energy surrounding him that made him want to claw off his skin.

It was only then that the woman turned around, fixing her dark, brown eyes on Dean’s face. Her expression was calm, though there was a clear hint of curiosity in her features that made Dean feel even more uneasy.

“Dean,” She smiled, but her eyes were calculating and measuring. She looked like she knew him, like she was happy to see him, though there was this distance to her whole demeanor that had Dean’s every cell wanting nothing more than to get away from her. At least now his body got the hint that this wasn't normal. “I was hoping we would meet soon. Fortunately, you provided the opportunity.”

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t provide anything. I don’t even know who you are.”

The woman turned her entire body toward him then, taking a few steps forward, and as much as Dean wanted to step back, to keep the distance between them as it had been since he’d first noticed her, he found that he couldn’t move his feet.

She reached him soon, pausing when she was standing just a few inches away from him, a little too close for his comfort. She lifted her hand slowly, pressing the tip of his fingers against the side of his jaw, making him turn his head slightly, as if examining him somehow, and Dean flinched, because the wrongness of this thing was way too much and _why the hell couldn’t move?_

“Don’t be afraid of me, Dean. I mean you no harm.” Dean closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to just pry her hand off his skin. This felt so wrong, and he couldn’t do anything to stop her. “We are connected, after all.”

He opened his eyes again to look at her as he let out, “Who the fuck are you?”

A small smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, and she tilted her head to the side. She seemed amused as she considered him. She was silent for a long moment, until finally she let her hand drop back to her side. “You’ll know soon enough.”

The world around them started swirling, losing focus, and Dean felt his balance fading. Still, he was able to hear the words that followed that.

“But for now, you can call me Amara.”

He fell backwards, feeling like he was suddenly in the middle of a storm, wind and fog surrounding him and making it hard to breathe. He fell onto the dirt, but it felt a lot harder than it should against his body, more like concrete instead of mud. He coughed, trying to get the thick fog out from his mouth and nose, but it didn’t work too well. Squinting his eyes closed and with his arms over his face in an attempt to block the smoke, Dean just waited for it to be over.

The fog cleared eventually, the wind dying down to a weak breeze until finally it disappeared. He knew when it was completely over the moment he felt a weird wave of warm air hitting him in the face, like the entire room had just gone up several degrees, so much it was uncomfortable and once more he couldn’t breathe properly. When he tried, though, the pungent, strong smell of sulfur and blood hit his nostrils, and he froze.

Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times, waiting for them to adapt to the lack of light.

He wasn’t in that open space anymore. He was actually in a small, poorly lit room, with walls made of worn stone surrounding him. Behind him, a worn, broken rack.

He immediately knew where he was.

The screams he could hear in the distance made it all the more clear, and he forced himself to his feet, wobbling a little as his breathing started to come out short and troubled. His mind immediately brought back the memories he had struggled for the past six years to keep buried, that would from time to time come back to haunt him. The memories that would often remind him of the monster he really was, because that was what he had become down here.

The memories that would take him back to the place where he had spent forty years of pure despair and agony, of nothing but pain and blood and gore.

Without a doubt, he knew.

He was in Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spoiler alert!** \- Dean kills Cain.
> 
> New Character Tag: _Amara (Supernatural)_.
> 
> New Additional Tags: _Minor Character Death_ and _Season/Season 11_.
> 
> You guys remember when I said things were going to get serious pretty fast? Yeah... ;)
> 
> I've decided to play a little with the season 11 storyline as well, including Amara's character. I'm not her fan, to be honest, so I'm going to change her character quite a bit, which means that her weird obsession with Dean won't happen here, so don't worry about that. ;)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't plan to update today. This chapter should have been up days ago, but unfortunately that didn't work out. :/ At least now I can say: I come bearing gifts! ;D
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing friend who isn't even in SPN fandom but still has the patience to hear me whine about this story. XD She kept cheering for me to edit this chapter for the past 3 days straight. Thank you, you special cookie.<3 :)
> 
> I've kind of given up on the word counts at this point, just so you guys know. XD
> 
> This chapter turned out a lot darker than I had originally intended, so much that I considered cutting two scenes out because they were just too heavy and graphic, but then I opted for leaving them in because the effect of the chapter just wasn't the same without them. So please read the warnings carefully.
> 
>  **WARNING: This chapter contains graphic torture, death, blood, gore and miscarriage. I mean it, it's very graphic.** It also contains spoilers for the episodes 10x18, "Book of the Damned", and 10x23, "Brother's Keeper".
> 
> I know the warnings look bad, but trust me, there's actually no reason to worry about them other than the scenes being strong. If you want a more detailed warning, please see the end notes. If after reading that you're still not comfortable with the two scenes, then you can still skip them. The first and last sentences in each scene are in bold so you know where to stop or continue reading. If you find that confusing, there's a more detailed explanation of where exactly the scenes begin and end in the end notes as well.

A groan startled Sam back to consciousness.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because for a moment he wasn’t even sure where he was or how he had gotten there. He was also sitting up, and judging by the sharp pain that shot through his back and neck when he first tried to move, plus the dull lingering ache in his muscles, he must have been in a pretty uncomfortable position for a while. Opening his eyes, he found that he was in Dean’s room. He was a little confused about that at first, but didn’t pay that thought much mind as he stretched his muscles, trying to ease the pain that insistently clung to them. He quickly noticed that he was actually sitting on a chair, which explained the pain but still didn't make much sense to his sleep-muddled mind, until finally he remembered why he had been sitting in Dean’s room in the first place and most importantly, what had just woken him. He sat up in a second, ignoring how much it hurt to do that, his eyes opening wide as he glanced over at the bed, where one of the two figures lying on the mattress was stirring as he came to.

Cas was waking up.

Sam was on his feet in a second, stumbling a little as his head spun from standing up too quickly and right after he’d woken up. He blinked a few times, disoriented as he tried to regain his balance, but even with the floor feeling unsteady beneath his feet he still forced his body to move toward the bed, even as his vision failed a little and the feeling that he would fall to the floor with every step he took insistently made the room around him lose focus.

It was all gone soon, thankfully, and he hurried over to the opposite end of the bed even quicker then, pausing by its side and gripping Cas’ shoulder, not allowing the angel to sit up as he seemed to be trying to do.

Cas blinked a few times, looking up at Sam with a confused frown in his brows. The angel looked disoriented, but that wasn’t exactly surprising. Sam wasn’t sure for how many hours Cas had been out, but he knew for certain that the whole showdown in Ohio had happened several hours ago. “Sam? How…? Why…?” Cas’ voice was even lower than usual, throaty and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in days, even if in fact it had only been hours.

“I brought you to the Bunker,” Sam hurried to explain, still applying pressure to the angel’s shoulder to keep him lying down. Cas was clearly weakened, and considering what the seraph had just gone through, with how much of his burning out Grace the angel must have used to fight the Mark, Sam knew that any kind of effort from him should be avoided. Cas didn't fight him too much on it, lying back down onto the bed and resting his head on the pillow. He didn't look fully awake just yet, so that might be why. “You both have been out for a while.”

Cas’ head snapped up again and he suddenly seemed a lot more alert the moment he heard the word ‘both’. He looked to the side, his eyes tearing away from Sam and instantly finding Dean, and he struggled against Sam’s hold once more, his face showing so much worry that the hunter couldn’t help but let him up.

As soon as Sam pulled his hand back the angel moved to the side, leaning over Dean and pressing a palm to the human’s forehead. He looked even more troubled as soon as he did so, and that only made Sam even more nervous. The fact that Cas was probably pushing himself just by sitting up also made him feel a little uneasy, but Sam couldn’t exactly tell him not to check on Dean to not waste energy.

“What’s wrong with him?” he decided to ask instead, “I mean, with you two? Is it…?”

“It was Mark.” Castiel did not bear Sam more than a quick glance as he nodded sharply, his eyes instantly going back to Dean, eyeing him with furrowed brows, the angel's expression heavy and filled with worry. This wasn’t good. “The moment Dean killed Cain… This energy flowed through him, this dark, powerful force, which the Mark fed on. I assume that energy gives it strength, and that…”

“It knocked you both out.”

Cas’ nod was heavy and slow, but this time he did not even spare Sam a single glance as he moved his hand down, resting it over Dean’s chest and closing his eyes. He was silent for a moment, and Sam shifted a few times on his spot as he waited for Cas to do whatever it was that he was doing—healing Dean? Checking to see if he was fine? Trying to figure out what was wrong with his brother? Trying to get Dean to wake up? Sam had no idea, but he did know that regardless of what Cas was doing, he should not to interrupt the angel, so he remained silent and let Cas do his thing in peace.

When the angel finally moved his hand, however, he did not open his eyes, leaving them both as firmly closed as before in what Sam assumed to be concentration as he rested his palm over Dean’s stomach. Once more, Sam had no idea what the angel was doing, but he yet again did not say a word, not even when a much more intense frown appeared in the seraph's brows, not even when Sam began to worry that the silence was stretching on for way too long and his mind kept reminding him of the fact that the long pause could only mean something was wrong.

Finally, Cas’ shoulders sagged as the angel let out a breath. He leaned back, looking relieved, and Sam felt his own body relaxing a little at the sight.

“He’s… fine, physically.”

Well, at least that was something. Still, the hesitancy in the angel's voice and the emphasis he'd given to the word 'physically' told Sam not everything was fine. “But?”

Cas looked back at Sam then, and the troubled look he found in the angel’s eyes had the hunter's insides running cold with dread. The seraph's gaze was almost sorrowful, such a clear hint of worry and despair in his eyes that Sam had to actually make a double take to make sure he was seeing it right. It was an unusual look for Cas, and the fact that he was seeing it right now could only mean there was something very, very wrong.

Sam felt his stomach sink at the thought.

“There is something happening in his mind. I cannot…” Cas shook his head, letting his eyes move back over to Dean’s face. He swallowed once, his voice growing lower and startling weaker as he added, “I cannot see inside of it.”

“But… shouldn’t you guys have a mental link or something?”

“We do,” The words sounded heavy, almost strained, like it pained the angel somehow to say them, “And yet I cannot tell what is happening. Something is… blocking me out, and it’s too strong. It’s like a wall, and I cannot break through it.”

Well, it had to be the Mark, didn’t it? But what could it possibly be doing to Dean’s mind? What could his brother be going through inside his own head? Dean had been letting out sounds of discomfort for some time now, so what could the Mark be doing to him? What sort of twisted mind games could it be putting Dean through? Sam had no idea, and honestly, the feeling of helplessness this whole thing brought onto him was truly terrifying. If even Cas, who had his mind freaking linked to Dean’s, couldn’t break through whatever barrier the Mark was keeping up…

He watched as Cas shook his head once more, as if frustrated, moving his hand back up to rest it over Dean’s forehead. “The Mark feels stronger than it’s ever been. I can’t fight it, especially not... not with my Grace so weak.”

Running his fingers through his hair, Sam let out a heavy breath, suddenly feeling as tired as he had been before. Great. It wasn’t like they didn't already have way too much to deal with, like they could barely even handle what was happening in their lives right now. No, they also had to deal with the Mark suddenly being strong enough to keep Cas out of Dean's head while his brother was stuck inside of it somehow.

Just what they needed, really.

Taking on Cain had been a terrible mistake, he realized that now.

Cas kept trying to get into Dean’s head for the next whole hour without pause, but he couldn’t manage it, and Sam could see the worry growing in his eyes, the despair becoming more and more evident in features. All of it was clearly wearing down on the angel, the tiredness more obvious in his stance with every minute that passed. And it only got worse when Cas heard the small whines Dean had been doing every few minutes for the first time. He looked to be in actual physical pain as the sounds had reached his ears, because while Sam had already been hearing those for some time now, to the angel they were the confirmation that there was indeed _something_ happening in Dean’s mind, and that he had no means to stop it.

At some point Sam offered to go get them both food, because he remembered how Dean had said Cas was eating again, not because the angel wanted to, but because he needed it for his Grace, and honestly, Sam felt like he could eat something himself. How long had it been since he had last eaten, anyway?

One glance at the time on the clock resting on the bedside table told him that he had been asleep for just a little over five hours, which meant that they had been in the Bunker for almost ten hours now, and that the last time he had eaten anything had been about twenty hours ago.

Well, that explained why his stomach was hurting right now.

So he excused himself with a heavy heart, feeling like he didn’t want to leave the two alone right now, but at the same time knowing that him being there wouldn’t really make a difference. Cas was the one who could possibly manage to get into Dean’s head; Sam couldn't really do anything to help him and was just there because he was worried. He wasn’t doing anything more than just watching the scene before him unfold and hoping that Cas could break through the wall around Dean's mind.

He was happy to find some leftovers from the day before in the fridge—cream cheese beef stroganoff, which Dean had cooked for them while they had waited for Cas to get to the Bunker after their trip to Texas, changing the original recipe he'd found a little by exchanging the steak for beef and taking out the white wine while still keeping the mushrooms in, but Sam had no complaints as it had turned out delicious nonetheless. He heated three plates of food, just in case Dean woke up soon, and then took the plates to Dean’s room, hoping with everything he had that when he walked through that door, he would find his brother awake. Cas was conscious now, so maybe that meant Dean would wake up soon as well?

Sam could only hope.

That wasn’t what happened when he got there, but the scene had changed from what it had been a few minutes before when he'd left the room. Cas had gotten up at some point and taken off his trench coat, tie and suit jacket, which were resting on top of the hamper in the corner. There was a duvet covering the two from the waist down on the bed now, so he couldn't see beyond that, but Sam knew Cas had taken both his own and Dean’s shoes off because the angel’s black ones and Dean’s boots were neatly arranged on the floor by the closet. Cas had also walked around the bed, because he was now lying on the right side of it (so Sam _had_ gotten the bed sides wrong after all). The angel had Dean’s head resting on his chest, one hand placed on top of the human's head, fingers threading through Dean’s hair slowly, his other arm going around Dean, hugging him closer until the hunter was lying almost half on top of the angel.

The scene was a sad variation of what Sam had seen from two of them during the first movie night so many weeks ago, and he actually felt the need to pause by the doorway at the sight of it, unsure of what to do, if he should enter the room at all now. He felt like he was intruding something intimate and he wasn’t quite sure if he should just give Cas his food and Dean’s and then leave the two alone. This was new and he had no idea how to proceed.

Cas answered his unspoken questions for him. The angel stopped petting Dean’s hair and looked up at Sam, his eyes worried and almost pleading as he croaked out, “He’s not waking up. Whatever the Mark is doing to block me, it’s… too strong. I can’t…” Sam was surprised to hear Cas’ voice break a little. The angel stopped then, as if he couldn’t quite manage to let anything else out, a small choked breath escaping his lips, and Sam felt his heart growing even heavier inside his chest at the sound. The hand in Dean’s hair moved again, and once more the seraph’s fingers were running through the sandy brown hair on top of his brother’s head. The angel turned his head a little, tucking his nose into Dean’s hair, and one more time Sam wondered if he should just leave him alone with Dean, if he wasn’t intruding by just being here.

But the look in Cas’ eyes told him otherwise. The angel looked completely wrecked, his eyes distant and almost empty as he laid there holding Dean, clearly ready to wait for however long it took for his brother to wake up. Because of that, Sam figured Cas should not be alone right now. The angel really looked like he could use some company, and besides, Sam still didn’t want to leave Dean himself.

So he walked inside the room. It actually hurt to see Cas pull himself away from Dean, placing his brother back onto the pillow so carefully as he sat up to take the food Sam was offering him that Dean might as well be made of glass. Sam gave Cas a plate, left one on the nightstand and sat down on the same chair from before with the third one resting on his lap.

They ate in silence, moving only when Dean would let out a sound. Cas would have the exact same reaction every time—he would perk up instantly, a hopeful look on his face, like he expected each one to be the time when Dean would finally open his eyes, only for his expression to crumble into a worried frown every time it didn’t happen. He wouldn’t go back to eating for very close to a minute every time.

Dean’s food went cold by the side of the bed, untouched, just a silent reminder that Dean wasn’t awake to eat it.

After eating, Sam still lingered in the room, even if he still wasn't sure if he should really be there. It seemed all they could do now was wait, no matter how much that bothered Sam, so he decided to go back to reading his book, and as he did so, he was reminded of the mysterious amulet that was still hanging from Dean’s neck. He knew this might not be the best time to bring it up, not when Cas looked like he might break from just talking, but Sam needed to know what those symbols meant, or at least that the angel knew what they were so that he could soothe Sam’s mind about it, because the hunter was still afraid it might be doing something to Dean that he wasn’t aware of.

“Cas?”

Cas lifted his eyes to look at Sam, still chewing the last bite of food he had put in his mouth a moment before. There was a small drop of cream from the stroganoff clinging to the corner of the angel’s mouth, but Sam couldn't find it in himself to point it out. A quick glance down at the angel's plate told him that Cas was only barely over halfway done with his food, and that made the hunter pause. Cas had been trying to force down his food for almost half an hour now, and while Sam was a little worried about it, he also chose not to comment on the angel’s apparent lack of appetite, or that the food on his plate was most likely cold by now. At least Cas was trying to eat, and Sam felt like he really shouldn’t push him right now.

There was a silent question in the angel’s eyes, and the human took that as his cue to continue.

“Do you know where that came from?” Sam gestured over to Dean, and watched as Cas followed his gaze, but frowned in confusion, probably unsure about what the hunter was referring to. At the sight, Sam added, “That necklace?”

Cas’ frown vanished the moment his eyes finally seemed to settle on the pendant, which was clearly visible still. Sam had left it out of Dean’s shirt after he'd taken a closer look at it earlier, and Cas hadn’t tucked it back inside, didn’t seem to have touched it or maybe to have even realized it was there at all. He didn’t look confused or surprised at the sight of it, though, as if to him that amulet wasn’t at all new or out of place, and Sam immediately understood that it wasn’t the first time he was seeing it. Maybe Gabriel was right and Cas had been the one to give it to Dean after all.

“Yes,” Cas replied, but then paused. He moved one hand to touch the pendant lightly, running the tip of one finger over the carved surface, and for some reason it seemed like he was thinking his answer through, which honestly confused Sam a little. He still waited in silence, though. “It’s a protection talisman.”

Sam nodded lightly, twisting the words around in his head. So Cas did know what those symbols meant. It was a relief to realize that, but at the same time Gabriel’s comment from earlier, about how they would be safer here in the Bunker and Sam’s confusion about why they needed to hide in the first place, about whether or not they should be running away from someone somehow, returned to him, and once more he was intrigued.

Was there something he didn’t know about here?

“Protection from what?”

Cas was silent again, and the pause lasted longer this time. The angel tucked the wooden talisman back into Dean’s shirt without saying a word or glancing away from it, clearly doing everything he could not to look at Sam again, avoiding the hunter's gaze. It was a little unsettling, and Sam wasn't sure how to understand it.

“The symbols are Enochian, but such an older dialect that you probably will not find in any book. It’s a protection amulet, simply that.”

Something in Sam told him that wasn’t all. He had this weird feeling Cas was wasn't telling him everything, with the way he seemed overly careful with his words, thinking about his answers thoroughly and a lot more than necessary, but Sam had no idea what that could mean.

Or maybe he was just being a little paranoid. Cas wouldn't allow Dean to wear anything that would hurt him, Sam knew that for sure, so now he could completely rule out the possibility of the necklace harming Dean in any way. Gabriel probably was right about it being a gift from Cas, so this might not be anything worth worrying about. Dean and Cas were both still a little weird about being a couple, so maybe Cas' vagueness in his answer was about that. The carvings on talisman were Enochian, so maybe angels gave amulets like that one to... well, their partners for protection or something, since that necklace had appeared around Dean's neck very recently. If that was the explanation, then it made sense that Cas would be a little uncomfortable about explaining it to Sam, and the hunter knew he shouldn't push the angel for anything else right now.

What the angel had just said might not be the whole truth, but for now Sam would just have to push his curiosity down for now. He decided to drop the subject then, storing it away to think about it later, preferably at a time when he was rested and his mind more cooperative and they didn't have so much to worry about. Maybe he should ask Dean about it instead of Cas, he wondered, although he wasn't sure if Dean would be more willing to explain it to him than Cas.

Still, even if he knew there was nothing he could do about it right now, he couldn’t completely push his curiosity about the necklace away.

Cas finished eating a while after, readjusting himself a little on the bed so he could almost lie on his side, his back pretty much turned to Sam, although not enough that he couldn’t see Dean, or the way Cas just kept running his fingers through Dean’s hair non-stop; how the angel couldn’t stop watching the human's face, probably looking for any hint of discomfort, or any sign that Dean might be waking up.

The sight of it helped dull his curiosity on the amulet even if only momentarily. Even if their current situation was nothing but terrible, it still warmed his heart to see someone care for his brother like this, someone take care of him in a way no one had before. Dean never had something like this, Sam knew that, and it was truly about time that he had. Dean deserved this. Any other time, under any other circumstances, Sam might have smiled, might have allowed the warm feeling that sparked in his chest to grow; would have allowed himself to feel _happy_ for them as they deserved, without the bitterness of everything else they were going through with the Mark and Cas’ Grace.

He had been a little worried about Dean and Cas getting together at first, worried that if it didn’t work out things would change between the three of them, that it might drive Cas away somehow, but he was now realizing that maybe it had been foolish of him to even think that. He had known Cas cared for his brother before, obviously, but he had never quite realized just how much, and seeing the haunted, desperate look in the angel’s now actually broke something deep inside of him.

Sam just wished they could actually have this normally; that they didn’t always have to be constantly worrying about someone’s life, or about the end of the world. He wished they could just freaking _be_ , just worry about the next hunt and nothing more, that the weight of the entire world wouldn’t be constantly laid on their shoulders like it had been so many times in the past few years; that their lives didn't always have to be hanging by a thread.

He wished Dean and Cas could just be happy; that they could _all_ be happy. Was that really too much to ask? Hadn’t they all already gone through enough?

He realized his mind was once more wandering back to the same territory it had gone to that night in Pendleton when Charlie had brought this subject up, and he was startled to notice just how often he seemed to be thinking about this, wishing an out of everything that was happening to the right now, or at least for some sort of normality. He didn’t want out of hunting, but he wanted a different life than the one they had now. It was almost worrying, mostly because he had not seen this coming before. How long had he felt like this and hadn’t even realized it?

Casting one last look over at Cas and Dean, he left the room in silence, taking his and Cas’ empty plates plus Dean’s untouched one with him. He wanted to comment on the fact that Cas looked exhausted, and that he should probably try to rest and get some sleep, but something told him the words would only fall onto deaf ears, so he didn’t say a thing, and the angel let him go in silence.

He also didn’t want to sleep, but he honestly felt like he might just pass out anywhere if he tried to push it any more than he already had, so he decided to go to bed. The whole thing with Cain had really taken a toll on him, so the five hours or sleep he'd had afterwards had obviously not been enough, and his body was making sure he was aware of that now. At least Cas would be watching over Dean, and that meant that his brother would be as safe as he could possibly get.

Still, Sam’s sleep was restless. His dreams were haunted by the images of what he feared might happen soon, of what would come if the Mark remained on his brother’s arm, many of which consisted of flashbacks from what had happened the last time the Mark had taken over, with Sam torturing demons looking for his brother, or with him wandering around the halls of the Bunker, running from Dean while trying to figure out a way to trap him again, dread pooling in his gut as he wondered what he would do if the cure didn't work.

He saw no green in brother’s eyes in those dreams. Every time they were black, empty and demonic, completely devoid of any emotion as the Knight ended Sam's life in a constant, endless loop.

The nightmares woke him several times throughout the night, and as much as he tried to ignore them; to tell himself that they wouldn’t come true, that they wouldn’t repeat themselves, that he would manage to stop the Mark before it was too late; that he could save his brother, the feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach since the moment Dean and Cas had first stepped into that barn just refused to go away.

***~*~*~*~***

**Screams.**

He could hear those in the distance, echoing through the dark, empty halls, but he couldn’t tell if they were coming from the cells close to his or from somewhere far, far away. It all sounded the same, all the voices loud and at the same time nothing more than distant echoes that bounced off the walls without pause, constant pleas for salvation, for an escape from this place that was nothing but unreachable. And it didn’t really matter where the voices came from, not really, because Dean couldn’t help them, couldn't possibly save them. No one could.

The knowledge that there were other people down here, countless other souls going through the exact same thing that was being done to him, was not by any means comforting. It was actually sad, and very much so. He wondered if the others could hear him, too, if they agreed with that thought, or if they somehow found comfort in his own sounds of despair and pain, in his screams for help that he knew would never be answered, no matter how loudly they left his mouth, no matter how many times he cried them out.

Because no one could save him from this. Because he was damned. He had asked for this. This was his fault, and he was just paying a debt here, one he had chosen for himself out of his own free will in order to save Sam’s life. He had traded his soul, and now he was getting nothing beyond what he’d agreed to when he’d made that deal; nothing more than what he _deserved._

Yet somehow there was something… off about this, something wrong. Dean had this lingering feeling in the back of his head, this warning light blinking repeatedly at his face that kept trying to tell him something, but he wasn’t sure what it meant. He shouldn’t… He felt like he shouldn’t be here, but how could that be? Why did it feel like this wasn’t supposed to be happening? Why—

“I don’t like it when you think too much, Dean.” The nasal voice Dean had been hearing for about a year down here echoed through the small space of his cell, coming from somewhere to his right. That terrible sound had actually been the first thing he’d heard in this place after he’d passed out from hanging on those meat hooks for so long and woken up here in his cell on his very first day in Hell. He had quickly come to despise it more than any other sound he had ever heard. That voice still managed to send a chill down his spine every single time he heard it.

Dean could hear Alastair, but he couldn’t see the demon's face, not with the way he was tied to the rack, not with how the spikes on the inside of the metal collar around his throat and the cuffs around his wrists and ankles dug into his skin every time he as much as attempted to move.

“You don’t make as much beautiful sounds when you’re thinking.”

And then came the blade. It seared through the skin of his chest, following the line of his sternum all the way down to his stomach. He gritted his teeth, and even though he tried very hard not to have a reaction to it, refused to give the demon leaning over him the satisfaction of seeing his suffering painted on his features, a few grunts still escaped his throat, weak sounds of pain still managed to climb out of his mouth and jump from his lips. He could take this without screaming, though, he knew that, and the less satisfaction he gave Alastair, the better. He had made it his mission to give no signs of pain to the demon, even when he could barely stand it anymore, even when he was sure he couldn’t take another slice of that blade through his flesh.

He would break every day, though. Every day there would be a point when Dean felt like he couldn’t take it anymore; that he couldn’t hold in his screams, and once the first one was out of his mouth, he found that he couldn't hold any of the others back; couldn't stop any other sound from tearing out of his throat.

Somehow, that only made Dean feel even more determined not to let it happen again the next day.

He could feel blood dripping from the wound in his abdomen, rolling over his skin in thick trails, painting his body with a red, thick, sickly-looking and patternless web. He knew he should be worried about something then, something Alastair must be getting too close to as the demon cut his stomach open, but he couldn’t remember what that was, didn't even know where that thought could be coming from at all. Why should be worried about anything at all down here other than his soul, anyway? That was the only thing he had down here, and it was being destroyed slowly and painfully, a little bit every single day. This was an endless cycle, he had learned that by now; one that would be repeated every day until he broke irreparably, until he became the thing he hated the most in this world, the very thing that had ruined his life years ago.

The very thing that was taking him apart right then, piece by piece, until there was nothing left in him to be broken; until he was damaged beyond repair.

“You’re stubborn, Dean, I’ll give you that.”

Dean felt the blade against his throat, noticing how both the warm and damp blood from his stomach and the cool metal left an impression against his skin, but the knife didn’t actually cut it. Dean hadn’t expected it to either, because that just wasn’t Alastair’s style, to go for the throat so soon, to end his sick, twisted fun so quickly. No, the demon liked to take his time, to make every single second of this count, as if he wouldn’t get another go at this the moment Dean had recovered enough for another round.

“Almost as much as your daddy.”

The blade vanished for a second, the cold contact leaving a phantom sensation on the skin of Dean’s throat, before it was there again, touching his shoulder, running against the skin until it stopped very close to his forearm, this time actually cutting into his flesh, but not too deep. No, not yet, because where was the fun in that?

A pained hiss escaped Dean’s lips as the wound stung, and he cursed in his head, but didn’t break, didn’t allow an actual scream to get out. Not yet. He could handle this. He could take the pain for now, had to. It might be pride that made him feel like he had to be strong here, he knew that, but he felt more in control if he didn’t scream, as if it changed something. It was his only way resist this, as pointless as that might be; the only thing he could do other than just giving in to the pain. It was all he had down here.

“He was a feisty one, John.” The blade ran over his skin again, going all the way to his collarbone, rubbing against the skin with enough pressure to mark it, to hurt a little, but never breaking it, never enough to actually cut it. The expectation for the pain to come again as it happened built up in Dean’s gut, and the human tried to prepare for it, like he always did. He had done this almost 400 times now, taken the pain of Alastair's sick, twisted games every single day without exception. He knew he could last for way more than that, that he could take it. He wouldn’t break easily. “Your daddy would always curse me; tell me how much of a monster I am.” A dry laugh echoed through the chamber, such an ugly sound that Dean actually flinched. “He would barely make a sound while I worked on him, though, which I kind of admired.” The blade stopped on the right side of his chest, the sharp tip pressing against the skin a little more than it had before, but yet just not enough to cut his flesh.

“You’re already losing in that regard, my dear Dean.” Dean could _hear_ the smile in Alastair’s voice, and he closed his eyes shut, as if by blocking the sight of this place out, if he wasn't looking up at the cracked stone ceiling that hung just a few feet above him, then he might be able to block the sounds too, the pain, even. Of course, it didn’t work. “And I’m glad for that, really.”

And there it was, the putrid feeling of Alastair’s breath against his ear, the air that hit his skin moist and making Dean’s entire body shudder in disgust. He felt nauseous, the urge to puke growing inside of him, but he never got that far, as if he wasn’t capable of doing it at all down here, which actually kind of made sense. His body definitely didn’t work the same in Hell as it would on Earth, even if the pain was so real it felt like it might. He wasn’t even alive, didn’t actually have a body, just some sort of manifestation of it, so how could it possibly operate the same way? His soul would build itself at the end of every session, no matter how many pieces he would be in at the end of the day, and he also didn’t seem to have any sort of needs down here—no need for food or water or sleep, so his body not being able to actually let him throw up was only rational.

“Honestly…” The demon pressed the blade down a little more, and this time, it did break the skin, digging into his flesh inch by inch, slowly burying itself in Dean’s chest. The human groaned, closing his eyes even more tightly, feeling his face screw up at the pain and not managing to conceal any of it. “I love the sounds you make.”

Alastair twisted the blade buried inside his flesh, and this time Dean could not help but let out a short, strangled scream of pain. His body arched off the rack, which made the spikes on the retraining collar and cuffs dig into his skin, making his vision go white with hot pain for a second, his ears ringing with a loud high pitched noise as his surroundings momentarily faded away.

He should have gotten used to it by now, having been here for over a year, but he hadn’t. It didn’t get easier with time, as he had foolishly believed it would when he’d first landed in Hell. He didn't even know why he’d made that up in his mind, why he'd actually convinced himself that at some point this might not hurt so much; that it might become at least bearable somehow.

“I wonder what your daddy would think of you, down here with me as he was,” And Alastair was still talking, the smile still clear in his hissy voice. What Dean wouldn’t do to rip that damn smile off his face. “Of how you just threw your soul away like it was nothing, after everything he went through for you…” The demon made a disapproving sound with his tongue, twisting the knife once more and pausing, probably to hear the strangled scream that tore through Dean’s lips in response, this one just a little louder than the last, “What a disappointment you are, Dean. To everyone.”

Alastair would say it every day, every time he cut into Dean, carved into his flesh, and it seemed to hurt more every time. Because Dean knew the words were true, even before coming down here. The moment he’d sold his soul, he’d imagined his father’s face, remembered how he had given _everything_ for Dean to live, and just a year later there Dean was, doing the exact same thing, as if what John had done, all the years his father had spent down here, meant nothing to him.

But hadn’t John been down here for only a year? Dean wasn’t sure why, but his mind kept telling him it had been more, and he couldn’t find it in himself to push that thought away.

The only good thing that made him feel better was knowing that John wasn’t down here anymore; that he had passed on to wherever it was that the souls that weren't damned to Hell went to. Heaven, his mind provided, which was an odd thought, considering he didn’t even believe there was a Heaven, but there was this certainty in his gut about it at that thought that he couldn’t find it in himself to shake off. It made him feel better, so why push the thought away? He would take everything he could get down here to keep himself sane.

“And not just that,” Alastair pulled the blade out, and Dean hissed, but didn’t make another sound, “You couldn’t even follow a single task, a single order, could you? Daddy’s little soldier for years, and yet you just couldn’t do what he asked of you, could you, Dean?” The demon’s voice was close to his ear again, but he couldn’t move to the side, couldn't try to get away from it, as much as he wanted to. The spikes pressing against the side of his throat would go into his skin if he did, and he could barely handle the pain of it scratching the already raw meat of his neck as it was. “Save Sammy or kill him, and what did you do?”

There was pause, and Dean wondered if Alastair had moved away from him. He didn’t say a thing, as always; didn't give in to Alastair's taunting. He just waited in silence for the next blow, for the next slash of that blade to his body, for the new burst of pain to run through his nerves, because he knew it was coming, and all he could do was wait with the sick anticipation that thought brought to him growing in his gut.

Finally, Alastair spoke again, and he did indeed sound farther away, though still much too close. His voice came from somewhere near Dean’s abdomen and not his face, and the human opened his eyes again at the sound of it, but still couldn’t raise his head to look at Alastair.

“Oh, that’s right.” Something came into his vision then. It was like a spot of light in the darkness of the cell, a ghostly red aura around it, and at first Dean wasn't sure what he was looking at.

Metal. Hot metal. Some sort of rod, Dean quickly realized, a weird shape in its tip, like those things they used to mark cattle with, but it was sharper and without the flat end with the brand, almost like a spear, with small spikes around it.

Dean swallowed drily at the sight of it.

“You did neither.”

Alastair smiled down at the Dean then, and lowered the rod.

The moment it touched Dean’s skin, the moment the flesh of his chest began to melt around the metal, the moment he felt it dig through his being, the spikes dragging against his torn and burning skin and adding yet another layer of pain to the movement, it happened.

He broke.

**Throwing his head back, Dean screamed.**

***~*~*~*~***

Sam closed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples as he did his best to try to block out the sounds coming from down the hallway. It was a hard task, however, considering just how every single sound seemed so much louder than it should in such a large place, echoing off the endless walls of the Bunker and traveling down the empty hallways with ease.

Another scream tore through the air, and he flinched.

Six days. It had been six days since the whole thing with Cain, and Dean still hadn’t woken up.

During the first two days, Sam had been a lot more hopeful. He had been staying with Cas in Dean’s room throughout the entire day as they waited, just hoping for the moment when Dean would finally open his eyes again. They wouldn’t talk much, and honestly, sometimes things felt a little awkward, but Sam still wanted to stay with Dean, and it wasn’t like he was going to ask the angel to move from his brother’s side, or that Cas would do it if he did. So Sam had stayed, reading his research and looking for anything on the Mark as they silently waited.

Three times Sam had thought to ask Cas about the necklace again, but every time Cas’ utterly exhausted appearance held him back. There would be a better time to do it, he knew there would, so he’d officially decided to wait a little more on that one.

On the third day, Sam had voiced his concerns about Dean’s health. His brother wasn’t eating or drinking anything, and his body wouldn’t be able to handle much more without any nutrition.

"My Grace has been meeting every need Dean's body might have, Sam," had been Cas' response, "And that includes nourishment. I can transfer all the nutrients he needs through the soul bond without much effort. He's receiving exactly what he needs, so his digestive and urinary systems have pretty much shut down for now. They'll go back to working once he wakes, without any consequences or problems. There's no need for anything else."

Sam didn't really like the sound of that. They shouldn't be using Cas' Grace like this, not when it couldn't recharge afterwards, and especially not while the angel was still constantly fighting against the Mark.

Something must have shown on his face, because Cas had quickly added, "There's no need to worry, Sam. I can keep Dean sustained for weeks. My Grace can handle it."

He'd wanted to argue, but there was so much confidence in the angel's voice that he hadn't found the words. Numbly, Sam had simply nodded.

After that conversation, Sam had sat down in front of his laptop to read up on parenteral nutrition, the way hospitals usually nourished patients who couldn't feed themselves, like the ones who were sedated or comatose, which was normally done intravenously. Sam had a few articles until he'd closed his laptop with a defeated sigh. Cas said he could nourish Dean for weeks, but that thought didn't make Sam happy in the least. They would go on a little longer with the angel using his Grace to transfer everything Dean needed, but at some point he knew they should probably look into an alternative, because they really had to spare as much of the seraph's power as they could. Using too much of it might end up killing both Cas and Dean in the end, and Sam was determined not to let that happen.

He would let the matter go for now, but if Dean didn't wake up soon, he knew they would have to talk about it again later down the road.

Cas would only leave Dean’s room if he really needed to, usually for food, but at some point Sam had decided to start taking the meals to the angel there as he had done on the first night. Every second Cas was out of the bedroom and away from Dean seemed to be complete torture for the angel, and giving him food was the least Sam could do while he spent day and night watching his brother like a hawk.

He wondered if Cas was even sleeping at this point, but he’d thought it better not to ask. The dark rings beginning to form under the angel’s eyes were answer enough for him, anyway.

On the fourth day, the screams had started. Dean would pretty much cry out for help in midst of whatever it was that was going on inside his head, whatever thing the Mark was doing to him. It sounded like he was being tortured, or at least like something truly terrible was happening in his mind, but Cas still couldn’t get into Dean's head and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Cas had grown completely quiet after it'd started, as if Dean's screams had rendered him voiceless. The haunted look in his eyes got deeper with every hour that passed, exhaustion and worry painted clearly across his face. It made Sam's heart ache in his chest.

It was only on the fifth day that Cas had finally spoken again, and he’d only done it because Sam had almost forced him to. Honestly, the heavy silence had already been threatening to drive Sam mad, and he had been trying to get Cas to talk to him from time to time, with no success. Every time he would as much as attempt to start a conversation with Cas, all he would get from the angel in response would be a weak shake of his head or a nod, or very rarely some short response that gave Sam no room for more words.

“I haven’t heard from Charlie in a while,” Sam had commented at some point, when he thought he really couldn't take the silence anymore, yet again trying to coax the angel to speak, and Cas had instantly tensed a little in surprise on the bed so Sam knew the angel had heard him. But the seraph hadn't even looked at him, refusing to stop watching Dean, as usual. Sam wasn't surprised, “I keep thinking she might get here with that book soon and maybe we’ll finally have a shot at getting the Mark off Dean, but with the radio silence…”

He knew that Dean had been doubtful about the Book of the Damned since Charlie had first mentioned it, but Sam was willing to give it a shot. They needed a solution for the Mark, and he didn't care how improbable it was that they could find the Book of the Damned and how they didn't know for sure if the Book even had anything that could remove the Mark of Cain; they'd done more with less before. This lead was more than they'd ever had, and he'd take it. Still, his hopes that Charlie would be able to find it were dimming quickly, with every day that passed. He was actually a little worried about her now.

Sam had seen Cas swallow as the angel had apparently thought those words through. The seraph had fallen silent for very close to a minute, the pause stretching on for so long that Sam had already convinced himself he wouldn’t be getting a response, until Cas had said something the hunter hadn’t been expecting to hear. “I’m not sure this is the appropriate time for me to share this, but… When Charlie and I were looking for my Grace, I saw something I still do not understand amongst her research.”

Sam had frowned in confusion at those words, but had still perked up a little in his seat. At least Cas was talking again. “What did you see?”

“Along with the results on the possible locations of my Grace, there was this file with… names of people, and notes. Codes, too, with dates and addresses. I’m not sure what any of it was about, however. She said they were dead leads, and she seemed oddly defensive when I asked her. I… I know that was not the truth. It bothered me, and I meant to mention it to you and Dean, although it didn’t seem too urgent at the time, and soon after we were going after Cain. But now… With her gone for this long, I can’t help but wonder if maybe she made a detour of some sort.”

Sam had simply nodded in understanding, because of course Cas hadn’t had the chance to bring this up sooner. Sam sure as hell didn’t blame him for not doing it, really, not with everything that had been going on with Cain. But he had to admit he was a little intrigued. “What were the names?”

“Peter Harper, Barbara Cordry and Russel Wellington,” Cas had recited them, much like he had recited the names of the prophets two years before when Crowley had been abducting them because he had wanted leverage on Kevin. Something about the names being imprinted in his and all the other angels' brains somehow. And even if this wasn’t the same thing, the way he'd recited those names without hesitation was surely thanks to his freaky angelic super-memory.

“I’ll look them up,” Sam had decided then, already intrigued. He had no idea what this could be about, and maybe it really didn’t mean anything at all, but Sam was curious nonetheless.

So that was what Sam was doing now, typing away in his laptop, checking up the names Cas had given him. He was actually curious to know why Charlie had taken an interest in them in the first place. If they were indeed dead leads, well, then he might as well check them to see why she had discarded them. But if Cas was right and they weren’t what Charlie had told him they were, then maybe she had indeed taken a detour from looking for the Book. Sam didn’t blame Charlie for actually having a life, of course not, but Cas had said Charlie had lied about those names and gotten suspiciously defensive, so he had gotten curious. Why would she lie? He had no idea. It seemed unlike Charlie.

The answer Sam got for the names was disappointing to say the least. He couldn’t find anything on those people, at least not anything worthy of attention, so he was left with basically nothing. He wondered what Charlie wanted with those people, because he couldn’t see any connection between the three other than all of them living in Topeka, Kansas. Maybe he should ask Charlie about this the next time he saw her.

Speaking of which, he was really starting to get worried about her. The last time she had given them any signs of life had been weeks ago, and Sam was already starting to get a little antsy, especially now that he wasn't even sure where she had actually gone off to. Either way, silence never meant anything good in their line of work.

Sam’s worry only grew with every passing day. Dean’s state of mind seemed to be getting worse, as were his nightmares (or whatever it was that was going on inside his head, whatever images were plaguing his mind even in his unconsciousness), judging by how the sounds he would eventually let out were growing more desperate, louder; pleas for help that neither Sam nor Cas could find the means to respond to, no matter how hard they tried.

Cas was also a big reason for Sam’s worries, considering the way he was handling this whole thing. The entire situation seemed to be taking a toll on him in a way Sam had never seen happen to the angel before. He was eating well, that was true, but Sam could see he was actually forcing the food down and only because he had to, not because he had suddenly developed an appetite again. It also looked like he wasn’t even sleeping at all, judging by the dark, heavy bags under his eyes that seemed to get darker every day. His skin was paler, almost sickly-looking. It eased Sam's mind that Dean was being looked after and taken care of, it really did, but he was starting to get worried about how Cas seemed to be so focused on caring for Dean that he was forgetting about his own well-being. He was also absolutely unwilling to move from Dean’s side, no matter what. Sam would watch Dean for a few hours if the angel needed to rest, but somehow he knew Cas wouldn't agree to it, and honestly, Sam wasn't sure just how much longer Cas could keep this up.

On the eleventh day, Sam couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t bear to watch the defeated look that flooded Cas’ eyes as the angel adjusted and meticulously fluffed the pillow under Dean's head for the hundredth time that day.

“He’s going to pull through, Cas,” The words felt weak, lacked the strength and conviction Sam wanted to put into them so much, because he himself didn’t have it, didn’t fully believe those words to be true, no matter how much he wanted them to be, “He has to.”

Cas cast a saddened look over at Sam, one that told the human clearly that the angel did not fully believe them either. There was something else in his eyes, though, like Cas wanted to say something, and his lips did part for just a second, but then he closed his mouth again and whatever he had been about to say died in his throat. Sam wasn’t sure what that would have been, but he didn’t push.

Fortunately, one of the reasons for Sam's worry called him on the twelfth day.

The moment he saw an unknown number on the screen of his phone, he frowned, but answered anyway. “Hello?”

He was greeted by a familiar voice.

_“Hey, Sam.”_

Sam let out a huge breath, feeling a few pounds lighter all of a sudden. “Charlie.” So she was alive. It was a true relief to learn that, really, because he had honestly been starting to fear for her life, no matter what she had actually left the Bunker to do. “Where are you? You’ve been gone for weeks!”

When Charlie told him that she had found the Book of the Damned, Sam allowed himself to smile, the first time he had done it in weeks it felt like, at last letting a wave of relief to blossom in his chest. There was hope after all, a light at the end of the tunnel, a spark coming to life deep in his gut, making him feel lighter inside all of a sudden. Finally he could see a small sliver of light shining through the darkness that had taken over his life during the last few months.

His relief was short lived, however, as Charlie then told him that the Book was written in some weird language she had no idea how to read and that she was being followed by some psychotic family who wanted the Book for themselves. They were apparently tracking it somehow, but she had no idea how. She had actually been shot by them trying to get away and was obviously in need of help immediately.

But Charlie couldn’t come to the Bunker, not right now. Dean was still unconscious, Cas was way too weak, and she had no idea who these guys following her were. All Charlie could tell him about them was that there were apparently a lot of them and that they all had this weird tattoo on their arms, like a family symbol of some sort. They didn’t seem to be interested in talking at all, so the last thing they needed was to bring them here, where both Dean and Cas were completely vulnerable.

No, Sam would have to go to Charlie instead, even if the thought of leaving Cas and Dean alone right now didn’t make him happy in the slightest. But Cas could take care of Dean, he'd been doing it pretty much on his own until now, and Charlie needed help, so what was he supposed to do?

Keeping that thought in mind, Sam paused, searching his brain a little until he remembered it—Bobby had a safe house a few miles away from Des Moines, which was the one closest to where Charlie was right now. It was a cabin in the woods, just like most of his safe houses were. Charlie would most likely be safe there, or at least he hoped so, until he could get there.

So he gave her directions on how to get to the safe house and where to find the key _(“Just go around the house. There’s this faucet coming out of the ground on the right side. The key is buried in a box in the ground under the bucket tied to the pipe.” “Are you serious? Couldn’t he have left it under the carpet or over the door or something?” “Well, Bobby was a paranoid bastard.”)_ so she could let herself in, before assuring her that he would be there soon.

She did ask about Dean, and fortunately when he told her Dean wasn’t exactly well enough to make the trip right now, that his brother and Cas wouldn’t be going with him and that he would rather explain it all to her later and in person, she must have sensed the story was long and didn’t insist on the subject. He would fill her in on everything when he got to the cabin.

She also asked him to bring to the cabin with him whatever the Men on Letters had for decoding runes and symbols, or anything else similar that he could find in the Bunker, because she had no idea where to even start working on the Book.

After they hung up, Sam let himself sink back against his chair, resting his head in his hands for a moment.

He should be happy that Charlie had found the Book, but this whole 'crazy-murderous-family' issue couldn’t have possibly come at a worst time. With Dean the way he was, comatose or whatever it was that his state was called, Sam couldn’t possibly leave the Bunker without a heavy heart, especially with Cas in such a weakened state, barely sleeping and utterly exhausted, looking like he would just topple over at any second.

But he knew he had to go. Charlie needed him, she had gone through hell to get this book for Dean, was currently risking her life for this, on the run from people who were trying to kill her for it, and she was _family._ He had to go help her.

Making up his mind, he stood up from his chair, running his hand through his hair anxiously as he made his way over to Dean’s room to give Cas the news.

As he walked through the hallways of the Bunker, he quickly made a mental list of all the things he would take in his trip in his head. A medical kit, because although he knew there must be at least some medical items in Bobby’s cabin, he couldn’t exactly take risks here, not when Charlie had been shot and had had to make stitches out of dental floss. They would also need something to keep the Book in, something to cloak it; a warded box, maybe, so the guys who were tracking it wouldn’t be able to find it anymore. He was pretty sure he had seen a few of those in the storage; he remembered a lead lined one that had intrigued him a few months ago but that he hadn't yet had a chance to take a closer look at since then. He was pretty sure that one would do the trick.

Decoders, too; all the ones he could find in the Men of Letters archives, so they could try to figure out the language the Book was written in. He also should probably take the Men of Letters’ research on all the potential families involved with the supernatural that could be the ones following Charlie. Hopefully the Men of Letters knew who they were and their family symbol so Charlie could recognize it, and that way they could know who they were dealing with and why those guys wanted the Book. It would be good to know who exactly might be after them, although Sam could already tell they couldn’t possibly be good news, not when what they were going after was the Book of the Damned.

Before he went to pack everything and get ready to leave, though, he stopped by Dean’s room.

Cas was standing beside the bed, rubbing a cloth over Dean's forehead as the hunter thrashed a little on the bed. Dean was murmuring a little, but Sam couldn't make out the words. His brother's skin was glistening slightly, like coated with a thin layer of sweat, and Sam had to do a double take at the sight of it.

"Does he have a fever?" Yeah, this was definitely the worst time there could ever be for him to need to leave.

Cas shook his head lightly, not looking away from Dean for even a second. "No. He's... The Mark's illusions must be getting worse."

Sam swallowed drily at the words, but couldn't find his voice to comment. So instead he lingered by the door, watching as Cas dried Dean's skin carefully, his touch so gentle it was as though the angel was afraid the human would break under it. The seraph's eyes were heavy and pained, and it hurt to just see it. The scene made Sam’s heart tighten in his chest, which really seemed to be its default state lately. Maybe he should be worried.

Eventually Dean's murmuring quieted down, and Sam hoped that meant the Mark had taken a pause from torturing Dean, although he was probably just being optimistic. Cas continued to tend to Dean even after complete silence had taken over the room, and at some point Sam decided he would have to be the one to break it. He still needed to talk to Cas, had to discuss this with him, even if leaving was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

“Cas, I...” he started from the door, and Cas turned his eyes to him, but didn’t seem to have been startled to suddenly hear the human's voice. The dark bags under the angel’s eyes were scaringly deeper than Sam remembered, and he looked truly exhausted. It was a startling, worrying sight, and it made Sam feel even worse for leaving.

But he had to go, Sam reminded himself once more, so he forced the words out, “Charlie called. She found the Book of the Damned.”

Cas’ eyes looked more alert than they’d been in a while at that information, and for a moment he actually looked alive again. There was hope in his eyes and Sam hated that he would have to crush it in just a moment when he told the angel that they couldn’t read the Book just yet.

“She still can’t tell if there is anything for the Mark in it. It’s in some weird language she can't read, and she… she’s run into a few problems.”

Just as Sam had expected, Cas’ face grew much more serious, a frown taking over his brows. He looked almost disappointed. “What problems?”

“This… family, they want the Book and they’re after her. They're tracking it somehow, she doesn't know how. They even shot her. I’m afraid they’ll follow her here, so instead of having her come to the Bunker I’m going to Iowa to help her and see if I can help translate the Book.”

Cas seemed to consider Sam’s word for a moment, his face impossible to read. He didn’t look unhappy, though, just serious, but Sam still had no idea what his reaction would be until finally the angel nodded in agreement. “She needs your assistance, Sam.” The angel’s voice was calm, and Sam knew Cas was aware of where exactly his mind was in that moment. It wasn’t that hard to figure it out, really. “We’ll be fine. You should go.”

Sam couldn't find it in himself to reply.

At the human's silence, the angel paused as well, reading him, eyes glued to his face doing that intense stare only Cas knew how to do, before letting out a breath as his gaze settled on Dean once more. He seemed to know exactly what was making the human hesitate, but then again, Sam knew it was pretty obvious. Calmly, Cas ran the cloth over the skin of Dean's cheek one more time before he placed it in a bowl Sam hadn't realized had been there until then, resting on the bedside table, probably with water inside of it. The cloth did look a little damp.

Finally Cas looked back up at Sam, and somehow his eyes looked lighter. "I know you're worried, Sam, but Charlie is wounded and needs help. I can tend to Dean, and I will warn you if his situation changes." When Sam still didn't reply, Cas shook his head lightly, an almost sad frown forming on his face, "Charlie is in danger, Sam. You cannot ignore that."

The words were true, Sam knew they were, and as that finally sunk in he found a breath leaving his lips, shoulders sagging in defeat. Cas was right, of course he was. If those freaks got to Charlie, maybe this time she might not get away, and Sam couldn't allow that. It pretty much physically hurt Sam to leave Dean and Cas like this, but he knew he had to.

He still felt this weird weight of worry in his chest, though, this uneasiness in his gut that just refused to go away, and he knew very well why it was there. There was this tiny voice in the back of his head that wouldn’t let him forget about Gabriel’s words and that necklace, how weird and vague Cas’ words had been when he’d asked the angel about it, and he was still bothered by not knowing what exactly those engravings actually did. Protection, Cas had told him, but was there a specific reason for Dean to be wearing it?

He knew he had decided to wait to bring this up again, that he was still assuming this might be a gift from Cas, but he didn't know that for sure and he hadn't thought he'd have to leave like this, so that changed things. He couldn't just ignore that.

So he just stood by the door for another minute as Cas dried Dean's skin with another cloth and then returned to his usual spot lying on the bed beside Dean, and Sam just watched the two for a moment as he tried to turn the thoughts in his head into words. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

It took a little while.

“Cas…”

The angel didn’t seem startled at all by the sound of his name, as if he had been expecting Sam to talk again anyway, just had been waiting for it patiently, which Sam now realized must have been the case. But then again, Sam had been kind of just awkwardly lingering by the door without saying anything, so of course Cas would be able to understand that on his own.

Sam swallowed, then wet his dry lips before speaking. “When you two were out and Gabriel tried to fight off the Mark, back in the barn, before he left…” Sam made a pause, finding that Cas’ eyes were staring at him attentively, curiosity clear in them, so he continued, “He said something about how I should get you both here because the Bunker was safer.”

Cas let his eyes fall then, focusing them on Dean, and once again Sam got the feeling that the angel was avoiding his gaze, just as he had done when Sam had first brought up the subjet of the necklace days ago. That only made him even surer of what he had already been thinking about before, made his curiosity grow in his chest yet again. That feeling of being left out was back with full force, and Sam hated it.

“And now you’re saying that the pendant Dean’s wearing is for protection.” Cas still wasn’t looking at him and Sam actually grew a little annoyed with it, but decided to just go on instead of actually commenting on it, “And now I’m leaving, so Cas… I need to know the truth,” He swallowed again, shaking his head lightly, letting just a hint of plea to bleed into his voice, hoping that it would be enough to get Cas to open up, as unwilling as the angel seemed to be about doing it, “Is there anything I need to know? Anything I need to be worried about? Because to me it seems like there might be something… out there, looking for us or something, or at least for Dean. I’ve just been getting the feeling from everyone that there’s something going on that I’m not aware of.”

Cas wasn’t looking at Sam, but the hunter still saw the angel’s expression shifting. It grew heavier, almost worried, and he let out something very close to a sigh. Immediately Sam knew that he had asked the right question.

“There is no one looking for us right now, or any need for… actual immediate protection at the moment,” Cas finally replied, sounding like he was almost testing the words out on his tongue as he spoke, thinking every single syllable through several times before he actually let it out, “However, there is indeed something you don’t know.”

Okay, finally someone was telling him something. “And what is it?”

Cas finally looked back up at Sam then, and the hunter could swear the angel’s eyes had turned almost sad during the time they hadn’t been focused on him, or maybe guilty, he wasn’t sure. It honestly looked like a mixture of both, and Sam wasn’t sure what to make of it. Lightly, the seraph shook his head. “I’m sorry, Sam. I… I cannot tell you.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” There was a sharp edge to his voice but Sam didn’t really feel guilty about it.

The angel looked away again, one more time letting his eyes settle on Dean’s face. He lifted a hand and let it run over Dean’s hair for a few seconds before saying anything, the movement slow and calm as once more the seraph seemed to think his answer through. Sam was already anxious and really wanted to press on and say something, but the gesture was so gentle, so careful as Cas tended to his brother, that he didn’t.

“I promised Dean I wouldn’t.”

The words weighed heavily in Sam’s mind, and he paused, swallowing back his words and trying to make some sense out of everything he knew that might help him right now. The only information he had was that the amulet was for protection and that those symbols were ancient Enochian, but that was truly all and that was pretty much driving him mad. Dean had never been the most open person in the world, and over the years he'd gotten used to that, but still it bothered Sam that his brother felt the need to keep something like this from him, whatever that may be, especially since this might mean something dangerous for them sometime down the road. Cas had said they weren't in danger right now, but the angel had been oddly careful about his choice of words, and for some reason that gave Sam the feeling that they might have even more problems do deal with in a near future.

“Crowley and Gabriel know, though.” Maybe he sounded a little bitter, but he was pretty sure was a little entitled. He wasn't sure if Gabriel knew and was really just testing out a theory by mentioning the archangel, but he assumed his guess was worth a shot, anyway.

Cas nodded slowly in response.

It made Sam feel even worse that those two of all people knew what was happening, and yet Dean didn’t think his own brother needed to know. "And Charlie?”

The angel shook his head lightly, “No.”

That didn’t make Sam feel any better.

The thing was, Sam wanted to be a little mad at Cas for refusing to tell him, for not sharing whatever it was that almost everyone seemed to be keeping from him right now, but he understood that if Dean had asked the angel not to say anything, then Cas wouldn’t break that promise. He was actually annoyed with Dean more than anything else, but there was nothing he could do about that now, not when Dean wasn't even conscious.

Letting out a defeated breath, Sam nodded, accepting the reason for Cas’ silence. “Cas, I just... Is there any chance...” Cas looked back at him, his eyes quickly shifting back to their curious look from before, but there was a slight hint of understanding in them now.

“Dean is not in any danger right now, Sam, and he won't be just because you need to leave,” Cas replied before Sam could say anything else, as if he’d read the hunter's mind somehow, “It’s nothing to worry about at the moment. I promise you.”

The look in Cas’ eyes seemed truly legitimate. There was a spark to it, something very close to confidence and determination that had easily bled into the angel's voice as he'd spoken, although the hunter wasn't sure what that meant exactly. It was almost as if the angel wasn't simply making a promise to the hunter but to himself. Sam also didn't know how Cas could assure him like that, wasn't sure if he could make himself fully believe that promise without knowing exactly what they could potentionally be dealing with, but once more he realized that all that he needed to know was that the angel would never let anything bad happen to Dean. If Sam leaving were to be harmful to Dean in any way, Sam knew Cas would tell him. The angel wouldn't put any promise before Dean's life.

Slowly, Sam nodded.

He packed relatively quickly, and in just a few hours he was good to go. Sam decided against taking the Impala, and Cas kindly borrowed him his car, claiming it wasn’t like he was going to use it anyway. Before he left, though, he made sure that there was enough food in the fridge to last for a couple of weeks, so Cas wouldn't have to worry about it anytime soon, and hopefully Dean would wake up before that became a problem. 

It was only after Cas promised to keep him updated on Dean’s state and to call relatively often that Sam managed to leave the Bunker, and even then he only did it with a heavy heart, a sour taste lingering on his tongue. He hated this, hated everything that was happening right now.

But he shoved it all down, all the thoughts and worry about Dean and Cas back in the Bunker pushed to the back of his mind as he stepped on the gas, instead forcing his mind to focus on Charlie, on how she needed help and how this could lead them to finally getting the Mark off Dean once and for all. He would be sending Cas pictures of the Book once he got to the safe house because maybe the angel could read it, if it was indeed written in some dead, ancient language, which was Sam's best guess at the moment. He assumed the reason why Charlie hadn't yet done that was because she was on the run and wounded, but as soon as she was safe and fine Sam would make sure to do it.

For some reason Sam had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy, but he pushed that bitter thought away. The Book of the Damned was a very uncertain lead, he knew that, but it was already something, which was so much more than what they’d had the day before, what they’d had for weeks, months even _._

He just had to hold onto the small, weak sliver of hope trying to blossom in his chest and not let it wither away.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean twitched, a short, pained shriek of pain escaping his lips for only a moment before it died out, silence flooding the room once more, as if it hadn’t been broken at all.

Castiel perked up at the sound, watching Dean with cautious eyes, although there was little hope in him. This had happened too many times already, so many that at last the angel was finally accepting the fact that Dean making sounds did not mean in any way that he might be waking up soon. In fact, it might as well signify the complete opposite.

With his heart feeling painfully tight and heavy in his chest, Castiel let himself sag against the headboard once more, a tired sigh escaping his lips as he pulled Dean’s body closer to himself, careful not to jolt the human too much. He closed his eyes, although he knew he would not be able to sleep, no matter just how exhausted his body felt, how much it complained at the strain he was putting it through. The worry in his chest was too strong, too sharp and painful, but above all it was insistent. He knew he would only truly rest when Dean opened his eyes again.

It had been 14 days since that night in Ohio, and yet Castiel could not allow his hope to fade. He would spend every single second of every day attempting to enter Dean’s mind, clawing at the wall that surrounded the hunter’s consciousness in an endless but so far fruitless attempt to weaken it somehow, or at least waiting for a moment of distraction from whatever the Mark was doing to keep him out, the slightest waver of power that would allow Castiel to break through the barrier.

His mind was tired, though. He couldn't sleep even if he tried, and he knew that was not helping the situation, but it wasn't like he could change that. His worry would not leave his thoughts, plaguing his every waking moment, and even if he tried to ignore it, told himself he needed the rest and that his delicate state would only be harmful to both Dean and their child, unintelligible echoes of Dean's pain, of whatever was happening to Dean inside his own mind were constantly spilling into the bond and having the opposite effect on the angel. The soul bond was intact; Castiel could feel and interact with Dean's soul still, but their mental link was completely mute and numb. The silence in his mind made it seem as though a portion of his Grace had been severed from the rest, and Castiel hated it.

It all caused a constant state of distress within his very being, adrenaline constantly rushing through his veins even if he was lying down, even if there was no physical reason to.

The lack of rest, poor alimentation and anxiety from the situation was doing nothing good to him. Every day seemed to draw even more energy from him than the previous one had, every hour more laborious to get through than the past, and that was worrying Castiel to no end. His Grace was getting weaker too quickly, burning out even faster now than it had before, and that thought filled him with dread.

Carefully, he let out a few slow, calming breaths as he noticed his heart rate bothering him once more. It was higher than it should be, but he could not find any means to slow it down. It was the way his vessel had to warn him that he was pushing himself too much, rising his heartrate worringly often as the exhaustion hadn't yet been enough to slow the use of his power.

Sustaining Dean and the baby didn't take too much from him, thankfully. As long as all the nutrients necessary were inside his own body, he could transfer them to Dean's body without much problem. That included the extra vitamins and specifics required by Dean’s pregnancy and the nephilim, so he'd been taking the prenatal tablets himself.

No, what was truly draining him was the Mark. Even if he could keep Dean and the baby physically healthy without much strain, his constant fight with the Mark drew much more power from his Grace than what would be advisable in his state and when both Dean's life and the nephilim's depended on his. It also did not allow Castiel to rest, did not give him even the smallest chance to give his borrowed Grace a pause to heal as much as it could, which wasn’t much already, but it had been enough until then. If this continued, at this rate, he doubted his Grace could last more than a month, and the single thought of it was terrifying.

Pushing that thought away, Castiel adjusted himself on the bed, tugging the duvet closer to him and Dean as he shifted them on the pillows under them so they could both be more comfortable. He had made sure to ignore his instincts to nest after the first incident months ago, but now that Sam was no longer present in the Bunker the angel had allowed himself to indulge once more, seeing that Dean had taken apart the nest he had previously built, as he had expected. It soothed his mind to know that at least Dean’s body was comfortable, calmed something deep within him, so he’d buried the hunter in pillows and covers to try and make himself feel better.

It didn’t quite work, but it was better than nothing.

Turning his head to the side, Castiel buried his nose in Dean’s hair, breathing in the hunter’s strong scent and feeling some of the tension in his body easing from his muscles. Dean’s smell had grown to be a comfort to him now, more than he could ever imagine something as simple as someone’s scent could ever be. It told that same something deep within him that Dean was alive and there, within reach, and at least that was enough to keep him somewhat sane for now.

Letting his hand slide over Dean’s stomach, Cas performed his usual ritual to make sure their fledging was fine. He knew the Mark had lashed out and tried to harm the baby; he had felt the first blow before he had lost consciousness, the first wave of energy that had felt like a knife cutting right through his Grace. That the Mark had attempted to kill the nephilim next was the logical assumption; one that Sam had had no means to make as he was still unaware of Dean’s pregnancy, so of course Gabriel had not shared everything there was to be said with Sam as he’d helped them, fighting the Mark right after Dean had killed Cain. Castiel knew what had truly happened, though, and fortunately there had been no damage done to the baby, thanks to Gabriel.

Castiel could not help but wonder if they were getting close to the point where Sam's obliviousness might become dangerous. The hunter had no idea of the true variables of their situation, of what was truly at stake, and that might actually pose a problem sooner than Castiel had thought it would. He understood Dean's hesitance to tell Sam about the baby, he truly did, but Castiel that feared if this secrecy continued for too long, at some point Sam was bound to make a decision that might turn out harmful to the nephilim without even knowing.

He would have to talk to Dean about this; he would not simply tell Sam about the baby without Dean's agreement. He hadn't done it when Sam had asked him to, as much as he had felt tempted to, and he had been relieved when the younger Winchester had settled for simply being aware that there was indeed something being kept from him. That would have to change soon, though, Castiel realized that now, and he could only hope Dean agreed with him.

But as he could do nothing about that now, Castiel pushed those thoughts away, choosing to instead focus his attention on checking on the baby.

His Grace ached, but still responded to his request and stretched into Dean's body, reaching out its tendrils toward the baby's essence as the hunter's soul tangled into the contact. The Mark hissed in response, but Castiel ignored it, as it made no attempt to stop him, probably too preoccupied with keeping the wall around Dean's mind intact and strong to waste energy with interfering.

It made him calmer to sense the nephilim’s soul, feel it as strong and healthy as it had been before, protected in a cocoon provided by his own Grace and Dean's soul, wrapped in the protection provided by their very essences combined. He couldn’t actually see the baby; the image created in his mind didn’t come from vision, instead from a sense angels had that was very close to what humans called a sixth sense, but infinitely more powerful than what the rare humans gifted with a sharper perception of the supernatural could possibly process. It included the ability to glance into the soul of a being and feel as if they were seeing it, something Dean seemed to share with him now. He hadn't shared an imagine with Dean; he'd guided the hunter's consciousness in the right direction so Dean could see the baby himself. Not even a human who possessed the gift of being psychic should be able to do it, although Dean had had no problem to perceive nephilim's soul, yet another consequence of the soul bond Castiel had not been able to realize before.

He still wondered how many of those there were. Not all of them had manifested until now, he knew that for sure, and he was curious to know what else might change in Dean once the angel had his original Grace; once the hunter's soul was bound to the power of a full seraph.

Time passed slowly, but Castiel didn’t move. He would need food soon, he knew that, as it had already been over three hours since the last time he had eaten, but right now he could do without it and he would not leave Dean’s side if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. He could endure the discomfort of hunger for a while longer, as he still had enough nutrients stored in his Grace to provide for Dean's body for a few more hours.

The Bunker was awfully silent, even more than usual. It felt emptier without Sam here and with Dean… unconscious. It was an odd, unsettling feeling, and Castiel felt almost uncomfortable with the vast emptiness of it around him, which seemed almost silly in his mind, but it was the truth nonetheless. He realized he had never been in the Bunker by himself before, and he assumed that must be the reason for that feeling.

He understood why Sam had needed to leave, though, of course he did. Charlie was in clear need of assistance, and they could not possibly ignore that.

Sam had sent him a few symbols from the Book of the Damned, and unfortunately even Castiel could not recognize them, could not even tell what language they were written in, not even with thousands of years of human dialects stored in his brain. Sam had sounded disappointed, but had assured Cas that he and Charlie wouldn't give up until they succeeded in translating the texts. The hunter had meant to sound confident, but Castiel had been unable to ignore the hint of doubt and fear in his voice.

Castiel himself had been taking a few books from the Men of Letters library to the bedroom with him, hoping he might be able to help with the research, although Sam had taken most of the relevant titles with him. It did not matter who managed to translate the Book, however; the only important thing was succeeding at all so they could read the Book and discover if there was indeed a way to remove the Mark from Dean in it.

He could only hope there was.

Exhaustion got the better of him at some point, as it seemed he did fall asleep. It wasn’t actually deep; he simply entered the limbo between consciousness and not, the odd state he had yet to get used to when he was partially awake and aware of his surroundings but could not actually process anything, not quite resting but not completely cognizant. He did have enough presence of mind to wonder if at last he would be able to sleep, however, and at some point he actually allowed himself to believe he would.

He came back when pain shot through him, though.

It was like someone yet again had torn into his Grace and ripped out another piece of it. A pained sound escaped his lips, and he sat up, then cursed himself just a second later for jolting Dean with him. He breathed in calmly a few times, mindful as he slowly ted the air in and out of lungs, but the pain only seemed to be getting worse, feeling as though it was coming from his very core. When he started coughing, he gently removed Dean from against himself, wrapping the hunter in a blanket before walking across the hall to the bathroom.

Blood came out of his mouth, and he wheezed over the sink, spitting it out in mouthfuls. He turned on the faucet when at last the coughing stopped, staring down at the crimson liquid as the water washed it down the drain, as it spiraled out of sight until there was no red left in his vision, and yet a pool of dread still filled his insides, because this could not be a good sign.

“You’re both getting worse.”

The sound of voice was a surprise, and although a part of him recognized it as familiar, Castiel’s body still reacted purely on instinct, muscles growing tense and prepared to fight in just a second. He had been caught off guard, and thanks to millennia of training his immediate reaction was to prepare for a battle, countless years of being nothing but a soldier having programed his being to respond in a certain way, and his situation was definitely not helping. He felt the need to be on guard during every second of every day, even if there was no immediate threat to them now.

But there could be, as he still feared Heaven might somehow find out about the nephilim, so of course he had to be ready for that; to protect Dean and the baby, especially now that they were both completely vulnerable.

The sight of Gabriel standing by the bathroom door, body slightly tilted to the side so he could lean against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, was a relief, and Castiel allowed his body to relax, tension melting out of his muscles just as fast as it had appeared. The archangel’s words set a weight in his mind, though, the confirmation of what he had already been fearing giving him a sour taste in his mouth.

The seraph swallowed, feeling the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. “It’s the Mark,” Castiel stated, although he knew Gabriel was already aware of that.

“Yeah,” was Gabriel’s response, low and almost weak, and when Castiel said nothing else, the archangel let out a sigh. Castiel did not understand the meaning of it, but he could tell that Gabriel was somewhat irritated, or at least that there was something bothering him, although the seraph had no idea what it could be. Once more receiving nothing but silence in response, Gabriel shook his head, the look in his eyes oddly hard to read. “I’m surprised with you, Castiel, that you actually let Dean go up against Cain. He could have died. They both could.”

The words were not quite unexpected, and yet Castiel had to look away, feeling the seemingly constant weight in his chest growing even heavier.

He knew Dean was in this situation right now because of the Mark's reaction to him killing Cain, of course Castiel knew that, but above all that fight had only happened because he’d allowed it, because he had not insisted more against it when Dean had first stated his intention to go to Ohio, or maybe because Castiel had treated the situation wrongly, handled it poorly somehow. If that night in the barn had never come to pass, their situation would be much different—not much better, but not as bad at least. And of course Castiel had not wished for Dean to kill Cain; had not even desired them to be near each other at all, so now all he could think about was how he should have found a way to change Dean’s mind about it somehow, or least how he should have tried harder, done something differently, maybe even tearing the Blade from Dean’s hand once Cain had been subdued and before the hunter could deliver the final blow onto the Knight.

But he knew perhaps that confrontation would not have been completely avoided, and instead simply postponed. Cain himself had made it clear that he would be coming after Dean when the time came, and that meant both Dean and their child had been on the Knight’s list. He would have come for both of them sooner or later, that much was a fact, and who knew what would have happened had they been less prepared? What if Cain had somehow managed to catch them off guard as Castiel knew the demon would have most likely attempted to?

Castiel was not happy about the outcome of that night, but he could not say he entirely regretted it. Perhaps waiting and leaving Cain on the loose would have brought the worst outcome, not to mention all the lives they would have lost if the Knight had continued the murderous path he seemed to have set for himself, and those might have very easily included the lives of Dean and the baby.

They had done the right thing, Castiel knew it. They could not have allowed Cain to walk out of that barn the moment he had found out about the nephilim.

Then why did it feel so hard to accept that? Why did Castiel still feel like he should have done _more?_ What could he have possibly done differently?

“You know, I get that you are all selfless and care about the world and all that nonsense you keep repeating over and over again.” Gabriel rolled his eyes, but Castiel knew the archangel was not being completely truthful right then. He had learned by now that Gabriel was not as insensitive as he tried to let on, even if he seemed to put a lot of effort into convincing everyone around him otherwise. “But this could have very easily have cost you three your lives, you do know that, right?”

Swallowing, Castiel nodded, feeling it oddly hard to make his head move to agree. It wasn’t like he needed a reminder of that. And yet, he still felt the need to protest weakly, “But it didn’t.”

Gabriel looked like he wanted to argue, and while Castiel knew exactly what he would say—that it was still too early for them to know that for sure—the seraph was glad that the archangel said nothing instead.

“I called you when I first found Cain, and then later on when we decided to go after him.” Cas wasn’t sure of the point he was trying to make, but he let the words out anyway. Part of him wanted to blame Gabriel for what had happened, even though he knew it was irrational. Gabriel having answered his prayer earlier than he had wouldn’t have changed much, not when Cain had been prepared to incapacitate the archangel all along, as they knew had been the case now.

“I know. I heard you.”

Something about how detached Gabriel’s tone sounded bothered Castiel. “Then why didn’t you answer? Dean said you answered his prayer fairly quickly during the hunt he worked in Iowa.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up at little in surprise. “So he actually did man up and told you about that?” He let out a low chuckle, a smirk finding its place into his lips, “Didn’t see that one coming.”

Castiel did not comment, not allowing any reaction to show on his face. This wasn’t the point of this conversation, as much as he would like to let his annoyance show. They didn’t have time to waste with Gabriel's jokes, but above all the last thing Castiel should do right now was feed the Mark in any way. “Cain mentioned you had been following him for weeks.”

Gabriel let out a breath, the smirk all but vanishing from his features. The change was rather abrupt, but that seemed to be normal with Gabriel, so Castiel was not confused or surprised by it. “That’s not all I’ve been doing, though, you know that.”

Numbly, Castiel nodded. Once more he felt a wave of curiosity at what exactly Gabriel seemed to be working on without telling them, but he chose not to ask about it, having learned by now that he would never get a straight answer from the archangel. Gabriel would only share something when he either wanted or absolutely needed to, and trying to push him to do it any other time would get no results.

“The thing is: Cain knew I was following him, and if I had answered your first prayer, it would do all of us the opposite of helping. I’ve known about his little murderous trip for a while. I’d just been keeping a distance to, you know, figure out a way to draw him out somehow. I couldn’t answer you right away.”

For a moment, the meaning behind Gabriel’s words wasn’t all that clear, mostly because at first all his mind focused on was on the first occasion in which he had prayed to Gabriel.

Until he realized what the archangel was implying.

“And the second time?” The words jumped from his lips without a thought, voice rising in volume without his consent. He wasn’t sure where the strength for that had come from when he felt so utterly exhausted, but he didn’t dwell on it. He felt a wave of anger washing over his entire being so abruptly it was actually a little disorienting, but he couldn’t quite find the presence of mind to think about it either. “Were you keeping a distance too?”

Gabriel swallowed, hesitating as he looked down, as if to avoid Castiel’s gaze, and the sight of it was answer enough.

“You used us as bait.” He stepped closer to Gabriel, and the archangel's eyes quickly moved back up to him, looking legitimately surprised by the sudden edge in Castiel's voice. He didn’t flinch, however, nor did he step back. “You used Dean and my child as bait!”

The calm expression in the archangel’s face as he spoke only made Castiel madder, and for a moment he actually considered throwing a punch. He had felt tired before, but now he knew he could hold his ground in a fight, and in that moment, all he wanted to do was hit Gabriel in the face. He clenched his fist as it tingled, his arm actually almost burning with the need he was feeling.

“I didn’t. I couldn’t answer exactly when you called, Castiel, and when I did you were already in Ohio, waiting for Cain to show up.”

All Castiel felt was the contact with his hand, and then Gabriel was massaging his jaw. Castiel wasn’t surprised with himself for actually doing it; he was surprised he hadn’t had a single thought cross his head before hitting Gabriel, but he chose not to dwell on it, as he didn’t regret the action. The archangel didn’t look angry, maybe just a little offended, but honestly, Castiel did not care.

“Castiel,” the sharp tone of Gabriel’s voice was a surprise, “You’re not helping Dean. You’re just giving the Mark something to feed on.”

Castiel wished the words gave him clarity, that the realization that he was making Dean’s situation worse would have helped him push his anger away, that his mind had become clearer as the fog of his rage dissipated.

It didn’t work that way, but he did manage to step back from Gabriel, dropping the possibility of hitting the archangel again, as he now realized the Mark was telling him to do, chanting in his mind a lot more loudly than what he was used to. Usually what he heard from it was a faded echo through the bond, like a distant voice in the back of his mind, but now it was as loud as he believed it would be if he were bearing it himself.

The worry that came from that realization was what allowed Castiel to have some clarity, although the desire to hit Gabriel again still remained. His anger didn’t seem willing to fade in the slightest, and it wasn’t like he was trying to make that happen, anyway.

Shaking his head, at last he managed to let out something else. “How could you?” His voice trembled a little, and it bothered him, but there was nothing he could do about it. Above all he felt betrayed, and he was pretty sure he was entitled to the anger he was feeling.

“Cain knew I was following him, Castiel. He’s been avoiding me way too well. I hadn’t even gotten _close_ to him until Ohio. That burial site you found wasn’t the first, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. He’s been changing them every time I get close to the previous one. He’s always been one step ahead of me, and for once I needed the upper hand.”

“And to do that you willingly let us walk into that barn. You let Dean use the First Blade to kill Cain. Whatever Dean’s going through right now…” Cas shook his head, once more feeling the need to turn away from Gabriel before he hit the archangel again, breathing in and out in a futile effort to calm himself down. Anger burned in his veins and he had no idea if he could stop it; he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

“Don’t go blaming this on me,” Gabriel shook his head, lifting both hands in what Castiel understood as a request of silence, “Dean wouldn’t have walked into the barn if you hadn’t let him do it. You agreed to it.”

“Only because I saw no other choice! Because other than calling you, we had no other option. Cain would have come for Dean otherwise, and we couldn’t lose his trail. But if you had helped us since the beginning, maybe Dean wouldn’t have needed to ever be near that Blade again at all!”

Gabriel shook his head again, letting out a breath that sounded oddly tired for him. “I've dropped everything and come running whenever you and Dean call me, Castiel, but sometimes I just can't answer fast enough. It took me some time to get to you, and once I did there was nothing I could have done to fix the mess you had already made. Cain was already on his way to where you all were, and there was no losing him anymore.”

Gabriel’s words did the opposite of calming Castiel down, as they were just yet another confirmation that the archangel had actually waited for Cain to show up to do to anything, had let them wait for him to show up like fools instead of actually helping them. “And then you just sat back and watched.”

“There was nothing I could have done by then, Castiel. I only waited because Cain already knew where you were. He had already sensed the Blade, from miles away, the moment he was close enough. Dean can't do that for more than just a few feet, but Cain was a Knight; a very old and powerful one. He knew you were waiting for him all along. He _knew_ , and he stepped into that trap of yours willingly, because he wanted that Blade, more than anything else. Even if you had given up on the whole thing by then, he would follow you all, no matter what, until he got his hands on that damn Blade. So I kept my distance until I could come in without him sensing me. The moment I felt he was trapped and that I knew he couldn’t sense me anymore I started watching. That was the first time in months I've had the upper hand on him, but you were handling everything well on your own, so I decided to wait and let you deal with him your way before I stepped in. I only intervened because he got free.”

There was reason behind Gabriel’s words, Castiel knew there was, but it was hard to swallow his anger down as if it were nothing, as if he couldn't feel it burning inside his chest like a flame, powerful and deadly.

Letting out another tired sigh, Gabriel shook his head, his eyes growing almost pleading. “Castiel, I was in Hell when you prayed to me the second time. You can't just bend time at your will and fly away down there, you know that very well. How long did it take you to raise Dean's soul even after you'd found it?"

Castiel closed his eyes, taking in a steadying breath. It had taken days. He'd spent days flying across Hell, fighting his way through that cursed place while cradling Dean's soul in his Grace, holding it with all his might. No angel was able to simply 'teleport' out of Hell, as Dean liked to call it. On Earth and in Heaven, when angels flew time bent around them to the point where it almost stopped, but Hell worked differently and those rules didn't apply. Time didn't even work the same way there.

Curiosity about why Gabriel had been in Hell made itself known in his mind, but in that moment Castiel felt the need to push it away. His mind wasn't clear enough for a conversation like that just yet, his thoughts far too incoherent.

"I was very deep in Hell when I heard your prayer, and I thought I had more time. A day up here, 122 days down there; you know how the time difference works. It turned out I got held up for a little longer than I thought I would, and then it took me days to get out of there. Those were only hours up here, but already a few too many. I’m telling you I came as fast as I could, Castiel, but when I got topside again it was too late. I couldn’t do anything to stop you all. I couldn’t even believe you’d all agreed something like that, but there was nothing I could have done differently. And even if I had showed myself at first, Cain was still prepared for me showing up. I should have seen something like that coming, but I didn’t.”

It made sense, it truly did, and that was the only reason why Castiel actually began struggling to regain control over his own mind. He knew Gabriel was right; that his explanation was reasonable, and the seraph let that thought calm him, focused on it to try and push the Mark away, though he barely managed it. The weight of his body seemed to grow all of a sudden, like a wave of tiredness washing over him without a warning. He wondered when his body would just give out and finally he would be able to sleep, or simply pass out.

"It was never my intention for Dean to be near the First Blade, much less kill Cain with it, of course it wasn't. But once Cain felt the Blade there was no running from him. There wasn't any other possible way that night could have gone down, Cassie, and deep down I think you know that.

There was truth in those words, as hard as it was for Castiel to accept it, and at last his head cleared. It felt as though a curtain had been suddenly lifted from his mind, and the change was just as disorienting as the previous one.

Gabriel had helped them. He had done everything he could, and in the end it wouldn’t have mattered if he had shown up before they'd entered the barn, Castiel knew that, because Cain had been prepared to handle him either way. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel heard the words leaving his mouth, letting out another breath as finally he opened his eyes again. He felt dizzy, the world off balance around him, like a head rush. It was a terrifying feeling, because the Mark’s influence had never been this potent, and it had never affected him so easily. Castiel had crossed a line, he could realize that now, and he was terribly ashamed of himself for it. But most of all, he was scared of the fact that the Mark had been able to make him lose himself so easily when he wasn’t the one directly bearing it, when all he had ever felt from it before had been nothing more than a faded echo from what Dean went through. If it felt this strong for him, how must Dean feel? He had no idea how the hunter had managed it until now.

“No harm done, Cassie.” Gabriel’s eyes were sad as he looked at Castiel, a smile that looked more like a grimace taking over his lips. “The Mark’s a lot more active than I thought.”

Castiel nodded numbly. “It’s never been like that.”

All Gabriel did was nod lightly in acknowledgement. The gesture was weak and almost strained, and for some reason it made Castiel even more worried.

Without another word, Castiel stepped forward and past Gabriel, the sudden discomfort created by the Mark adding itself to the uneasiness from being away from Dean and the baby for too long as they both settled heavily into his chest, and Gabriel just watched him leave the bathroom without a word. The seraph walked into Dean’s room across the hall, padding over to the bed and pausing by the side of it, just watching Dean for a moment. The hunter looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping, but Cas knew his current state, whatever was happening in his mind, was anything but.

He didn’t look to confirm it, but he knew Gabriel had followed him into the room, so with his eyes fixed on Dean’s face he asked, “Is there anything you can do?” He shouldn’t be surprised by how his voice broke at the end, or how weak it sounded, but he was.

“Nothing I haven’t already done. The Mark lashed out when Dean killed Cain, as I assume you’ve already deduced by yourself. It tried to kill you and the nephilim, but I took as much of the blow as I could so it didn’t have enough strength for it, and when I couldn’t do it anymore your Grace handled the rest.”

“Then why is Dean still unconscious?” The tremble in his voice was audible; Castiel could hear it himself, and yet he could do nothing to stop it. He felt helpless, despair blooming inside his chest with such an intensity he wasn’t sure how he was even able to speak coherently at all. Now that most of his anger had faded, all that was left in his chest was a hole of despair that threatened to swallow him whole. “He should have woken up already, Gabriel. I don’t—” His voice failed, but it returned once he swallowed once. He turned his head to glance at the archangel. “I can’t get inside his mind. I’m blocked, and I don’t know what…”

“I don’t think you’re gonna be able to break him out of this, Cassie. If you can’t enter his mind, even with a direct mental link, then I couldn’t possibly do it either.” Glancing over at Dean, Gabriel let out a sigh, “Whatever the Mark is doing to him, he’s trapped, and he has to be the one to get out.”

Letting out a breath of air himself, Castiel sat back down onto the bed as dizziness suddenly made itself known inside his brain once more, compromising his balance. He had not wished to hear this at all—that there was nothing for him to do to save Dean and their child. He had been doing nothing more than waiting for the last fourteen days and now Gabriel was telling him to continue doing just that; that they had no other alternative but hoping that Dean could free himself from the Mark’s sharp, poisonous claws on his own.

The bed dipped beside him, and one glance to the side told Castiel that Gabriel had taken a seat on the mattress as well. The hand on his shoulder was unusual and unexpected, and Castiel wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He was comforted by it in a way, but it still felt a little odd, probably because it was the first time Gabriel had ever touched him at all.

“I know this is hard, Castiel, trust me, I know it better than you can imagine.” Castiel wished to ask him how, but held the words back, not quite finding his voice to speak then. “But you have to trust Dean on this one. You know better than anyone that he’s strong enough for it.”

Castiel wanted to take the confidence Gabriel was showing to himself; make it his own to erase the anguish he still felt inside his own chest, but he couldn’t, just as he could not save Dean this time; could not dive into the flames of Dean’s torment and pull him out, raise him from the Hell that was happening inside the hunter's head as he had done the first time so many years ago.

All he wanted to do was put an end to it, but he had no means to.

Letting out yet another breath, Castiel pushed that thought away, attempting to swallow the thickness inside his throat, to no avail.

He decided for a change of subject after a minute silence. “Why were you in Hell?” he chose to ask, remembering his curiosity from before. It seemed like an odd place for Gabriel to be, and only now was he able to realize how much.

Gabriel didn’t respond right away. It took him more than what Castiel had learned was appropriate for a conversation, and he could only wonder what the pause meant. Hesitancy, it seemed, although he couldn’t fathom the reason for it.

“I was scoping out the Cage,” was the archangel's response at last, “Trying to figure out a way to talk to who’s inside.”

Castiel turned fully to the side to glance at Gabriel, surprised and confused by the answer, and maybe worried. What was Gabriel planning? Why would he possibly want to talk to Michael and Lucifer? “Why would you do that?”

“Because they might know something about the Mark. They’re probably the only ones we can reach who can and might remove it, actually.”

It made sense, it did, but that didn’t mean Castiel agreed to this. Involving Michael and Lucifer should not even be a last resort, so why would Gabriel want to risk it? Of course the two archangels wouldn’t help.

“I didn’t manage it, if you’re worried. The Cage is heavily warded and guarded by way too many spells I couldn’t get through. And… well, maybe it’s best that I didn’t manage it at all.”

The words brought some relief to Castiel, but he was still worried, and honestly a bit intrigued.

Still, he pushed those thoughts aside, seeing as Gabriel seemed to have deemed the subject over, and that meant there was no point in insisting on it, no matter how curious Castiel was about it. So the seraph decided then that maybe it was time to bring up the subject he had been for weeks wishing to discuss with Gabriel, but hadn't yet had the opportunity to. “We… might have found something for the Mark.”

One eyebrow went up as Gabriel gave him a curious look. “Well, do tell.”

“The Book of the Damned.”

It was an odd sight to see Gabriel truly surprised, caught completely off guard. Castiel had never experienced that sight before, and he was not sure what to make of the fact that he was seeing it now either.

“Have you managed to translate it?”

So Gabriel knew not only that the Book existed, but also that it needed to be translated. Briefly, Castiel wondered why Gabriel had no brought it up before. “No. We have been attempting to, though. Is…” Castiel swallowed, rephrasing his question in his head before trying once more, “Do you believe there might be something to remove the Mark in it?” He dreaded the answer to that question, to hear a negative response, but he also needed to know whether or not his hopes might be misplaced. They couldn’t waste time on the Book if it wouldn’t lead them anywhere.

Gabriel’s silence was difficult to read. The archangel’s hesitance to speak was clear, and Castiel could not fathom what could have rendered him quiet that way, although he was certain that it could not mean anything good.

“The real issue with this whole thing is not whether or not the Mark can be removed, Castiel, because it can, trust me. Lucifer removed his Mark after he passed it on to Cain. He didn't create it to curse Cain; he just transferred it from himself.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Gabriel’s confession.

“Lucifer bore the Mark?” That was news to him, completely. He’d believed the Mark to be a curse inflicted by Lucifer on Cain; never had he imagined that Lucifer might have simply transferred it from himself. But if he had been cursed, then who had placed the curse on him?

It hadn’t occurred to Castiel just how little he knew about the Mark until then, and he was actually surprised. He had never imagined there might more to its origins than he was aware of, and it terrified him to think that maybe those origins might affect the process of removing it from Dean.

“Where did it come from?” he asked, “If Lucifer didn’t create it, then who did?”

Another pause from Gabriel, and this time it actually annoyed Castiel. For some reason he was sensing that the archangel was deliberately keeping something from him, and it bothered him quite a lot. He couldn’t allow his annoyance to grow, however, and he did his best to ignore it as his outburst from earlier flashed in his mind. He had to avoid another episode like that, for it would only make Dean’s situation worse than it already was.

As if to remind him of that, Dean let out a low complaint in his throat, shifting a little on the bed before falling silent once more. Castiel felt his heart aching at the sound, and moved a hand to card through his mate's hair softly, for there was nothing else he could do to soothe the hunter, no matter how much he wished there was.

“There’s a lot about the Mark you don’t know, Cassie. For one, it’s a lot older than you think.”

Curiosity coiled inside of him at the mention of the Mark’s age, but Castiel ignored it for now. “But it can still be removed, if Lucifer did it.”

Letting out a breath, Gabriel shook his head. He looked tired, and once more Castiel caught himself wondering about the ‘plan’ the archangel had mentioned he was working on in Montana. Obviously Gabriel seemed to have his own agendas outside of helping them, but Castiel had no means to discover what those were, all he knew was that up until now the archangel's 'plan' had included tracking Cain and going to Hell to try and involve the two other archangels that were trapped in the Cage. But what else was there? Was there anything else?

Castiel already knew he wouldn’t get an answer if he asked, though, so he didn't even bother.

“Using the Book right now wouldn’t help, Castiel.”

“What are we supposed to do, then, Gabriel? Because other than the Book, we have nothing that doesn't include involving Lucifer and Michael, and I'm not sure that would be a wise path to persue.” Without that one lead, they would right back to where they were before, following dead leads to his Grace and reading through endless books that had nothing even remotely close to what they needed, and they _couldn’t_ go back to that, just as they couldn't involve the two archangels in the Cage. The Book was truly their only hope right now.

“I’m not saying to stop trying to translate the Book, because if you manage it, that’s a start. I’m asking you not to use it if you do, not for now. Your Grace won’t be able to handle that right now. If you try to remove the Mark without your actual Grace, I’m afraid you won’t be strong enough to survive it.”

Castiel had not thought about this until now, but he had to admit it made sense, although the single thought of it was terrifying. They had no leads on his Grace, and the Mark was getting scaringly worse every day, but if they did in fact manage to find a way to translate the Book, maybe they still wouldn’t be able to remove the Mark from Dean because of him; because his Grace might not be able to handle it.

It seemed that every possible solution they found led them nowhere.

“And if we find my Grace?” He needed to hear something positive, something to keep the sliver of hope in his chest alive instead of letting it fade into nothing as it was happening right now.

“The Book of the Damned might... indeed have something for the Mark, and you may keep trying to translate it. That’s all you need to know right now. Removing the Mark is just… more complicated than you think.”

That feeling close to annoyance at how Gabriel refused to be upfront with his answers became even stronger inside Castiel's chest, but he controlled it for now, swallowing the anger down before it could take over once more, pushing the Mark away as it perked up in interest again.

 _“You have idea what you’re truly asking for,”_ Cain’s words echoed inside Castiel's head, and he wondered if maybe the Knight had been referring to the same thing the archangel was deliberately not saying right now.

“How so?”

Gabriel didn't respond, instead looking away from Castiel and over at the door, as if waiting for someone to be standing there. Castiel instantly understood what the archangel was doing, however; he was avoiding the seraph’s eyes once again, and that only made Castiel even more bothered. The silence stretched on for so long that Castiel felt the need to add, “Gabriel, please. We need to remove this Mark.”

“I know, Cassie," A sigh, tired and spent, escaped Gabriel's lips, "I should just warn you that simply… removing the Mark with the Book of the Damned might not be the answer you’re looking for. It might do the opposite of helping right now, and trust me, you don't want that.”

Something about Gabriel’s tone made Castiel feel uneasy, like removing the Mark was not a good thing, like somehow it would only create another problem, and the single thought of it already made Castiel worry. He glanced at Dean once more, feeling his doubts heavy in his chest. There was something about this situation he wasn’t aware of, it seemed, and he hated feeling so helpless. He turned his head back to look at Gabriel, and the heavy look in his eyes made Castiel even more intrigued. It bothered him greatly that the archangel wasn’t being completely truthful with him, or at least not voicing everything there was to be said. Did Gabriel simply not think he had the right to know the truth? “You do not sound like removing the Mark would be a solution at all, Gabriel.”

Gabriel refused to answer, refused to even look at Castiel, and the anger inside the seraph grew stronger before he could stop it.

“Where did the Mark come from, Gabriel?” he asked, shaking his head lightly, and even if there was a sharp, demanding edge to his voice, he could still hear the hint of pleading the mingled into his words, “What are you not telling me?”

Finally Gabriel moved his gaze back to Castiel. The expression in the archangel’s face grew almost sad then, his eyes clouded, and the sight of it was so surprising and confusing that the seraph had no idea how to process it. Gabriel stared at Castiel for a moment, as if weighing his words in his head, or maybe wondering if he should actually answer that. The silence made the seraph uneasy, but Castiel waited, hoping that at last he would get an answer.

He didn’t.

“I’m afraid that’s a story for another time.” Gabriel let out another tired breath, shaking his head as he cast a brief gaze over at Dean, “Right now, I think you have enough to worry about. And get some rest, would ya? I know it's hard, but you look terrible, Cassie.”

Gabriel was gone in a blink, his wings taking him away in just a second, and Castiel felt that spike of annoyance burst to life once more inside his chest.

***~*~*~*~***

Two days passed the same way after that, with no sign of progress in Dean’s state. Sam and Charlie were also having very little success with the Book of the Damned, and with no word from Gabriel, everything made Castiel feel like he was suffocating.

The words about the Book and his Grace, the fact that their situation was even more complicated than they had previously believed without actually knowing everything that thought entitled was driving Castiel mad, and he hated the feeling, but he refused to pray to Gabriel again, not only because he knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer, but because he didn’t think he could endure another conversation like their last one. Gabriel hadn't told him everything there was to know, and he knew demanding answers from the archangel might lead to another outburst from the Mark, which Castiel should avoid.

He hadn't told Sam and Charlie about the issue with his Grace, afraid that it might demotivate them from their research on the Book of the Damned, which was still very much necessary. Castiel, however, had turned the focus of his research back to trying to locate his Grace, so far with no results. He was aware his current situation was very peculiar and that it had never happened before in the history of Heaven, but he could not lose hope. They needed to find his Grace before taking the Mark of Cain off Dean, as improbable as that seemed to be when they didn't have even a single trace of his original Grace to perform a tracking spell. Gabriel might not have been completely upfront with Castiel about the Mark, but he hadn't yet lied. Castiel believed him on the matter of his power, especially with just how exhausted and weak his Grace felt under the strain it was being put through. He couldn't help but wonder how he had not realized this issue before.

Castiel regretfully left Dean’s room on the second day after Gabriel's visit, finding it almost physically hard to leave Dean in his current state. If it depended on him, he wouldn’t leave the hunter’s side, would not even consider the possibility of not watching over him, of not being near him at every waking second, but his current state would not allow that to happen. But Castiel still required nourishment, not simply for himself but for Dean, and in consequence, for the baby. He could not possibly deny them this.

So he walked to the kitchen, intending to prepare food for him and take it back to the bedroom, where he could continue to watch over Dean. It had been easier when Sam had been here, but now Castiel was on his own, so the task of feeding himself now fell to the angel himself. Sam had, however, stocked the fridge with food that would undoubtedly last for several more days, and for that the angel was extremely grateful, for the perspective of leaving the Bunker to purchase food was not something that would make him happy. He was dangerously close to running out of prenatal vitamins, however, and that was starting to worry him. He feared the Mark might take advantage of it if he left the Bunker, being too far away to do anything were the Mark to lash out again, but he knew he would have to borrow one of the Men of Letters' cars to go purchase more vitamins in Lebanon if it became necessary. The baby needed them; Dean's body couldn't produce them, and neither could Castiel.

Inside the fridge, he selected one of the several trays of frozen food and then proceeded to follow the package instructions to prepare it. It was clearly not a healthy choice, not at all, but it was all he had to work with at the moment. He had never cooked before, and he had no time to learn how to do it, not when he should not be away from Dean and the baby for so long. And ordering food was also not an option here, so he had to resort to the only other option he had. All that mattered was that the frozen food still had the nutrients they all needed; his Grace would filter out all the harmful chemicals. It took some energy, but the alternative would be leaving the Bunker regularly to buy food, and Castiel could not do that right now.

He put the small container in the microwave and set the timer accordingly, and then sat down at the table to wait, closing his eyes as he rested his head in hands. His entire body felt heavy, his movements languid, but that was expected with the very clearly not enough amount of sleep he had been getting during the past few days, which basically consisted on the very few times his brain had pretty much just shut down on him for a few minutes.

He wasn’t sure how much longer this could go on for. He would give it a few more days, but that was his final deadline. If Dean still hadn’t awoken by then, if the hunter continued in his forced slumber any more than that, if the daily toll to his power continued for much longer, Castiel would have to resort to something extreme to finding his Grace, because he now knew that had to be their priority at the moment.

He'd spent the past two days thinking about this, and somehow every train of thought had led him to the same conclusion. He would have to get Metatron out of Heaven somehow; try to get the location of his Grace out of the other angel, even if Hannah and all the other angels did not want him there.

It would be risky, he knew that. He would be breaking a direct rule from Heaven, one that could end up costing him too much. And if they looked into his Grace, they might discover his connection with Dean, and even…

He would not have a choice, however, as much as he had been trying to avoid that idea for months now. If his Grace came to dangerously low levels, if the strain caused by the Mark proved to be indeed too much, he would have to go through with that plan, no matter what, because Metatron was the only one who could tell him the location of his Grace.

Maybe Gabriel would help him. He wondered if the archangel could manage to sneak into Heaven unnoticed and then back out with Metatron. Maybe he could—

Castiel froze, his hands gripping the edge of the table before him as his entire body tensed. He sat up straighter, his eyes wide as he felt it, the change he had been waiting for since the moment he had woken up in this Bunker two weeks ago, the shift in his mind that told him what he had been waiting for had happened.

A crack. Whatever wall the Mark had been putting around Dean’s conscience, whatever barrier it had been using to keep him out of Dean’s mind; it had cracked, strength wavering around the human’s conscience, like the Mark’s grip lessening, weakening somehow.

Castiel did not even think, did not even consider moving from where he was. The time that would take him to get to their room, to get to Dean, it could be _too much_. Because the barrier could go back up at any second, leaving him helpless once more, and he could not have that. This was the first chance he’d gotten to save Dean since this had started, and he could not waste it. He had no idea when something like this would happen again, if at all, and he couldn’t take the risk.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He focused all his energy on the crack, pouring as much of his Grace as he could into the bond, lingering over the weak spot without pressing against it, charging his power as much as he could to use it all at once, in one powerful blow against the Mark's barrier.

He waited a few seconds, not daring to waste any more time than that.

And then he pushed in.

***~*~*~*~***

**Dean had been wrong.**

He had heard it countless times from Alastair, about how his father had been down here for over a hundred years. Dean hadn't believed it at first, didn't even understand how he'd thought about that before hearing it from the demon for the first time, couldn't understand how that had been possible at all, but eventually he'd accepted it. Alastair would always go on and on about how John had not broken, not even for a second; his confidence not wavering even once about enduring this endless torture. How his father would never take the offer Alastair made at the end of every session—of leaving the rack if he picked up a blade himself, if he agreed to cut apart souls, his suffering for the others’.

At some point Alastair began make the same offer to Dean, every day. And since the beginning, Dean would say no with conviction, would never for a single moment even consider saying yes, giving in to what he knew would in the end turn him into the very thing that was causing him so much pain, of the very thing he hated the most, the one thing that had ruined his entire life.

It was hard, to stand by his choice while a blade danced over his skin, while his flash was torn apart over and over again; his bones broken, shattered into millions of pieces; his skin burned and melted; organs taken out of him and waved at his face. While his body was burned, roasted from the inside out; while he choked on his own blood, or wheezing for air as his lungs screamed because of the acid that Alastair sometimes forced down his throat; while he was in the dark because the demon had dug hot iron into his eyes so he couldn’t see, melting the globes right out of the sockets.

But he’d resisted. For thirty years, he had said no, every single time. No matter how much it hurt, how much he wished for it to be over, that he could also die in Hell, that everything could _just fucking end_ , he never said yes.

Until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“So, what do you say, Dean?” Alastair ran the tip of the blade over his chest, but yet again with not enough strength to break the skin, to actually cut his flesh, although it warned Dean of what was about to happen, of what awaited him yet again, just like every single day. He closed his eyes, his entire body tensing against his restraints, his breath already labored at the mere thought of that knife slicing his skin again. “If not, we can just get on with it. I brought something else for you today…”

Dean opened his eyes again, looking to the side and feeling his breath catching in his throat. Because there it was, in Alastair’s hand, one of the things he hated the most down here, that always made him scream, no matter how much he tried to keep quiet.

A pitch fork; one Alastair had already used to him before so many times before, and every time seemed to be even worse than the other. It depended on where the demon used it, really. The last time he’d dug under Dean’s ribs with it, lifting them so he could pull out his heart.

Just the sight of it sent his mind right back to where it had been, to wishing to be out, to wishing for it to be _over._ He just wanted it to stop, because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t handle one more second of his torture.

_He just wanted it over._

Alastair lifted the fork in his hand, eyeing it for a second, as if making sure it was in good enough condition or clean or something, although Dean knew it was all part of the show, of the build up to what was coming next, because that was what happened every day, without exception. Every day, for the rest of eternity, this would happen. Every day...

“No.”

Alastair paused, one eyebrow shooting up, a spark appearing in his eyes as he looked back down at Dean. “What was that, Dean?”

“That’s enough. I… I can’t…” He couldn’t let the words out, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his voice weak and breaking, his throat feeling sore and hurting as he spoke.

_He just couldn’t take it anymore._

Alastair moved the tip of the fork up, pressing it against his throat, but once more with less strength than what he would need to actually hurt Dean, just applying the pressure against his skin to make a point, to make sure the human knew it was there. “You’re going to have to be a little clearer on that, Dean. I can’t quite hear you.” But there was a smugness to Alastair’s voice, a clear smile shaping his words that told Dean he knew exactly what was happening, what Dean was trying to say. He just wanted to hear Dean say it, to hear him admit that he had broken, that he couldn’t take this anymore.

So Dean did. “Yes. My answer is yes.”

A dry, scratchy laugh reached Dean’s ears, a terrible, ugly sound that had the human flinching.

“Well, isn’t this lovable.” The pitch fork was gone, but the blade was back, pressing against his collarbone, even though Dean wanted nothing more for it to just go away. Why was he still tied down? He needed to _get out of this cell._ “Thirty years, Dean. That’s your number.” Another laugh, this one just as throaty as his previous one, although somehow even uglier.

“What a disappointment you are, Dean. Can’t you ever do anything right? What would your daddy say?”

Dean closed his eyes, choosing not to respond. It was better not to. He just waited for something to change, for him to finally be free from this place, for the restraints to be undone at last so he could get the fuck off his damn rack.

Only that didn’t happen.

“Too bad you’re a little too late.”

Dean opened his eyes, wide with surprise and fear, only to watch as Alastair ran his blade over his throat.

Dean choked, feeling blood pouring out of his throat and running down to his lungs, and he coughed, but that only seemed to make it worse. His arms shook in his retrains, spikes digging into his wrists as they tried to shoot up and stop the blood flow in his trachea, even if he knew that wouldn’t save him, it wouldn’t stop him from bleeding out.

“Don’t you get it, Dean?” Alastair’s voice was once more too close, and Dean flinched again, still choking on his own blood. “You’re never getting off this rack.”

But this didn’t make _sense._

That had been the deal—that he would be out of here if he took the offer, if he said yes. Alastair had been repeating those same words for freaking decades now, every single damn day, so how could…

But he would get out, wouldn’t he? He knew he would. That feeling of wrongness was back as images flashed through his mind, of tortured souls that screamed under his hands. He… he remembered it, he thought? He… he’d tortured souls, one after the other, he _knew_ he had, but how could he remember something that hadn’t even happened? Something that was now not available to him? How could he have…

Because he had gotten off this rack, hadn’t he? He’d been out, and he’d tortured souls for ten years before… before…

_Cas._

It all came back to him at once, like a downpour.

The Apocalypse, the war against Raphael, Purgatory, the Tablets, the _Mark…_

_The fucking Mark._

He remembered taking on Cain, how the Mark had had some sort of energy boost, how it had fucking hurt so damn much, how he’d felt like he was dying all over again. He remembered his vision of the mystery woman, Amara, as she’d called herself, of the whole weird place that had felt more like a dream than anything else, of how he had no idea who the fuck she was but she hadn’t explained anything and then he had been here, back in Hell.

He wasn’t sure what was going on here, what was going on out there, but of one thing he was suddenly certain, one single fact all of a sudden crystal clear in his head, and he held onto it with every ounce of power he had.

This wasn’t _fucking real._

He wasn't choking anymore, Dean realized that now. He could breathe again, and while the taste of blood still clung strongly to the inside of his mouth, he knew that the cut on his throat had been healed. With a strong pull, the restraints broke, as if suddenly they had been weakened, shattering as if made of glass. None of it made sense, true, but now that Dean knew this was happening inside his head, he didn’t dwell much on it. He just pounced, feeling a strength he hadn’t quite had before running through his veins as he delivered a punch straight into Alastair’s face, and the demon stumbled to the side.

Dean kicked Alastair’s side, and the demon fell to the floor. Dean wasted no time in grabbing the pitch fork, raising it above his head and letting it fall with all the momentum he could gather, aiming the sharp tips of metal at Alastair’s head.

Only they hit the floor.

Dean wasn’t prepared for the blow to hit something as rigid as the rock floor, and his shoulder protested at the strain, at the hard impact against the hard stone. He gritted his teeth, blinking as he realized Alastair was nowhere in sight, having vanished in the thin air right before his eyes.

Panting, he let the pitch fork fall onto the floor by his feet, the wood making a loud, clattering sound as it hit the stone, which echoed unnaturally loudly in his ears. Everything outside had grown oddly quiet, with no screams in the distance at all. He hadn’t heard silence in what felt like decades, and the lack of sound seemed foreign to him, almost too loud, disorienting even.

He ran. To the door, and then out of the cell, unsure of what he would find outside, if he would be trapped in the endless, identical halls of Hell with no idea how to escape, because he hadn’t done this before. Cas had rescued him; he hadn’t actually gotten out by himself when this had actually happened. What kind of maze could the Mark possibly have prepared for him?

What he found outside confused him.

He was in the Bunker the moment he stepped out of the cell, and when he looked back, he realized he wasn’t staring at a cell door he had just walked through, but at one of the wooden, familiar doors of the rooms in the Men of Letters bunker, closed as if he hadn’t just stepped through it. He looked around for only a moment, failing to understand how he’d gotten there, struggling to process the sudden change before deciding it didn’t matter, and then he was running down the familiar hallways, but that didn’t seem to lead where they were supposed to.

Living in the Bunker for three years now, Dean liked to think he knew the place pretty well. He knew how to get to places and not to get lost, and although he knew there were still rooms left to be explored more thoroughly, as well as places he had yet not ventured to, he knew there was something wrong with this layout.

Because the hallways only led to other hallways, all of them completely identical and way longer than they should be. The doors to his sides were locked, too, even if he and Sam never left any of them like that. There was just no reason to lock any of them if they weren’t keeping anything hidden inside, and the two, Cas and Charlie were the only ones usually in the Bunker, anyway. They just never had any visitors.

His steps echoed loudly through the space around him, his boots drumming against the polished floor with every step he took. It all sounded too loud, the place around him too empty, more than it should be, the silence heavier than he would think possible, but he continued, didn’t let his confusion and disorientation stop him, because he had to find a way to get out of this place, had to find the exit. There was always a way out, he just had to find it.

_There’s no way out, Dean._

It wasn’t Alastair’s voice in his head, but the Mark’s, the low, grumbly voice that had a chill running down his spine every time he heard it in his mind. It sounded too loud inside his head, and he flinched because of it, feeling a wave of pain spreading over his skull, as if someone had used a hammer to hit it at every syllable the Mark spoke.

He ignored it.

Dean also couldn't feel the soul bond at all, he realized, and that bothered him a lot, but he didn't have the time to think about it right now.

It didn’t seem to matter which direction he took at each turn, what way he went every time he found a bifurcation in the hallways. They all led to nothing different, to a new identical hallway, or maybe they led back to where he had first started, because that might also be happening. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out he had been walking around in circles all along, not when everything looked exactly the same.

_There’s no point in running, Dean._

The Mark flared in his arm as if to made its point stronger, the searing pain of his skin burning the same as it had been back before he and Cas had bonded, before the burn was usually dulled by Cas’ Grace, the same way it had hurt when he’d taken on Cain at the barn, the moment he’d touched the Blade in his hands, laid the final blow onto the Knight.

This definitely wasn’t good.

_You cannot run from yourself, Dean._

Dean’s steps grew heavier, just as did his breathing. His muscles started to hurt, his thighs burning from an unnatural exhaustion that had him slowing down a little. He didn’t stop moving, though, doing his best to ignore the throbbing of the Mark, ignore the poisonous voice echoing inside his head.

His lungs started hurting eventually, burning and aching, the air growing thinner as his vision started failing, dark spots appearing before his eyes, floating colorless in front of him and making his head spin a little. But he kept going, panting and wheezing. He could taste blood in his mouth, and he couldn't tell if it was fresh or not.

_You’re never getting away, Dean._

His stomach started to burn, like he was being lit up on fire from the inside. His arm wrapped around his middle in alarm, and he stopped then, looking down at his abdomen as it hurt, like something was tearing him up from the inside.

The baby.

_No._

This wasn’t real. The baby was fine. This was happening inside his head. His body out there in the real world was okay, unharmed. The baby was fine. They were fine. He just had to keep walking.

Forcing his legs to move again, Dean kept walking, an urgency he hadn’t quite felt before taking over his movements, even with all the pain that seemed to be taking over his body, trying to slow him down at every second and in any way. Because he _couldn’t_ stop. He had to get out of here, had to make sure Cas and the baby were fine.

But for that, _he had to fucking wake up._

Too bad he had no idea how to do that.

He stumbled a little as he walked, his balance suddenly off, as if the walls were spinning around him, the floor no longer solid and static under his feet, instead shaking, undulating unsteadily as he walked. The hallways looked even longer than it had before, the walls closing in on him from all sides. The lights were too bright and not enough at the same time, his vision going in and out of focus, solid walls dancing before his eyes as if they were made of rubber. Nothing felt real, nothing felt solid enough, not even the floor beneath his feet.

He fell. Unsteady on his feet, the floor gave out on him and Dean toppled to the side, barely holding himself up on the wall to his right. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily through his mouth as the air grew thinner around him. Nausea coiled up in his gut.

He had to find the way out. He couldn’t stop.

Swallowing a few times, Dean managed to stand again, forcing his legs to work as he kept walking. He tripped often now, his balance slipping through his fingers and causing him to pretty much just stumble instead of actually walking, but he didn’t stop. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other, he kept telling himself, chanting it inside his head to keep his mind focused.

He could taste blood on his tongue, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. So fresh, then.

At last, the scenery around him changed.

He stumbled into the Bunker’s library, the familiar setting and the change from the endless corridors making his entire body sag with relief, a breath escaping his lungs at once.

He knew the way out now, all he had to do was go for it.

He had—

Oh.

There was blood on the floor, staining it around his feet, shining because of the bright lights on the tall ceiling. They were small, just splatters and small ponds of it, and they were clearly fresh, the thick, crimson liquid clearly still very much viscous and not dry at all.

He walked through the room, eyeing the trail of blood as he stepped forward, avoiding them carefully until he reached the archway that led to the war room.

And there, on the floor, was the source of all the blood.

Sam. Cas. Charlie. Clothes soaked in blood, throats cut, lying on a pool of their own blood on the floor, skin pale, though stained in crimson, bodies motionless and lifeless, empty open eyes staring up at the ceiling, though not truly seeing anything.

A breath escaped him again, but this time a shaky, pained one, and he stumbled to the side once more, supporting himself on the archway. His hand gripped the wood beside him, the only solid thing he could find, his knuckles white and his arm shaking with the effort to keep his body standing.

_You did this._

Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head as he reminded himself that this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. It was all a game, a fake illusion inside his head that the Mark had conjured up to break him. Sam, Cas and Charlie were _fine._ They were out there and he had to get to them.

_You can’t deny it, Dean. This is what you want. This is who you are now._

“No.” Gritting his teeth together, Dean opened his eyes again, finding that the scene hadn’t changed at all, that his family was still there, lying dead and bloody right before his eyes. He tried to move, to step away from there, but he found that couldn’t. His blood burned in his veins with the Mark, like boiling water cursing through his body, melting the tissue on the inside, and Dean screamed in pain as he stumbled once more, this time actually reaching the floor.

_This is who you are, Dean. You can’t run from this._

There was blood in his mouth again, but this time it felt like acid and he spit it onto the floor as it began to burn the inside of his mouth and choke him, making it harder to breathe. He tried to crawl away from the war room, tried to get away from the gory scene behind him, but when his stomach began to burn as well he had to stop moving, curling in on himself in pain because it just hurt too fucking much for him to move.

His arm was around his stomach, as if trying to protect it somehow, even though Dean knew it wouldn’t do anything, it wouldn’t help his child at all, but it was really all he could do other than hoping they were fine, that his baby was safe.

_“Have you never even mused upon the fact that you’re now living my life in reverse, Dean?”_

Cain’s voice rang inside his head, echoing like a distant memory, although loud in his ears, too loud, as if the demon was there, right in front of him, as close as he'd been in that barn. And maybe he was, Dean didn’t know. He'd closed his eyes to try to block everything out, and he wasn't going to open them to find out.

Images flashed before his eyes—memories, of him killing Randy and all those men, of all the people he’d murdered as a demon, of every life he'd ever taken, no matter if with that damn Blade and without it. Scared, lifeless eyes stared up at him behind his eyelids, pleading for their lives as he paid them no mercy, as he sliced into them, their screams echoing through the air around him and making his head hurt.

And there were new ones, too, images made up by his own mind, of what he could still do, of what was apparently expected of him. Of his _fate._

Slicing into Crowley, watching the demon light up from the inside as he died, his eyes wide with his surprise. He looked betrayed, and rightfully so.

Charlie pleading, telling him that Dean wasn’t this person, that he could fight it, only to watch as he drove a knife into her gut, as he saw the light in her eyes fade, her begging grip on his arm loosening into nothing.

Cas didn’t fight him, apparently didn’t want to hurt him, as Dean laid blow after blow onto the angel’s body, as he pushed him to the ground, holding an Angel Blade against the angel’s throat. The angel pleaded, his voice weak, without strength, calling for a part of Dean that was no longer there to listen, begging him to stop. But Dean had no reaction as he drove the Blade into the angel’s chest and watched the entire room light up in angelic light.

He watched as Sam just gave up without a fight, as he refused to kill his brother and instead chose to let Dean kill him, Sam's sad, relented, defeated eyes hiding absolutely no fight in them before his brother closed them and ducked his head, waiting for the blow of the blade in Dean’s hand to come.

And it came.

“No!” Dean screamed, holding his hair in his hands and pulling at it, focusing on the pain that came from it as the images shattered before his eyes, trying to shake this illusion off, to break out of this. That would never happen, _none of it._ No matter how many times he was told that this was what was going to happen, what was supposed to happen, how loud and angry the Mark got, he would never allow any of that happen, would never harm Charlie, Cas, Sam, damn it, not even Crowley.

He just had to snap out of this freaking trance.

_You can fight it, Dean, but in the end, you know you’ll lose._

Hissing, Dean curled up again, feeling his entire abdomen being lit up in flames. Tears sprung in his eyes from the pain, and he kept telling himself that this wasn’t really happening, that his baby was fine and this was nothing but an illusion, that the pain wasn’t real, that it _wasn’t actually happening_.

But what if… what if…

_"Do you even know what nephilims are, Dean? Vile, monstrous creatures?"_

"No." Dean closed his eyes shut, as if that way he might be able to block the words out. He hugged his arms around his middle once again as it continued to burn, and he gasped in surprise when he felt something snap inside his stomach. Pain shot through him even more potently then, coming in waves, one stronger than the other. He felt even more tears prickling his eyes, and he opened them, but nothing around him had changed.

Looking down at himself, he saw blood. It stained his thighs and legs, pooling on the floor around him, and he knew exactly why it was there.

_"An early labor would... would be very complicated to stop because you're a male, and the damage could be done very quickly. Not only to the nephilim, but to you. If the Mark manages to make you miscarry, you... You both die."_

"This isn't real," Dean breathed out, even as the pain got more intense, even as he felt like he was being ripped open from the inside. "This isn't..." One particular sharp contraction hit, and he let out a pained scream.

The fire in his belly was melting everything inside of him, he knew it was, because that was what felt like it. It hurt, so fucking much, but all he could do was lie there and wait, because he knew it was too late now. Something had ripped inside of him for sure, he had felt it, and whatever life he had carried before was long gone now. He would be following soon, at least, and that thought brought him relief, because that meant his pain would be over; that this torture would end once and for all.

_Just give in, Dean... The pain will stop..._

Closing his eyes, Dean let his head fall back onto the floor. The Mark's voice was loud and alluring, and for some reason, this time he didn't feel like pushing it away. He could feel cold, long fingers grazing his skin, and while he was still in pain, everything they touched became blessedly numb, and he wanted that. He wanted it so much... He just wanted...

_Dean._

Dean heard it, even over the chanting of the Mark; even through the haze created by his pain, he heard it clearly.

“Cas.”

He opened his eyes, but everything around him was nothing but a blur of colors, meaningless, shapeless forms. He coughed, blood pooling in his mouth once more. The Mark got louder, angrier, and everything hurt _so fucking much, he just wanted it to stop…_

**White light.**

Everything lit up without warning, warmness suddenly engulfing his entire being, flooding his body and sending all the pain away. Everything stopped—the burning, the pain, the difficulty to breathe, it all just went away so fast Dean felt numb and lost, unsure of what to do. He could barely process the change.

He was still panting, although he wasn’t on the floor anymore. No, he was in his room, and at that realization he sat up. Everything was still spinning but it was so much sharper than before and why was he here? Was he still in the Mark's illusion? The duvet and pillows under his hands felt soft and real, but were they really? How could he know? How could—

A figure appeared in the doorway, and he looked up quickly, finding a blur of beige making his way over to him, wide, terrified blue eyes staring at him, worry and what Dean could only understand as pure despair washing over him like a tidal wave.

“Dean.”

Cas was on him in a second, sitting on the bed beside him and pulling him forward and against the angel’s chest. Dean’s first instinct was to recoil in alarm, because this still felt wrong, everything felt off and he didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want any contact right now. There were hands on him and he wanted them off, his skin crawling in response and sending something inside of him into a panic, but when he tried to pull away Cas’ arms turned rigid around him and didn’t let him move at all, didn’t even budge.

“You’re safe,” he heard over his head, the voice quiet and breaking, a pained whisper that seemed to hit something in Dean’s very core, “You’re safe, Dean. I’m here. It’s over.”

Dean wanted to believe those words, he truly did, but he couldn’t, not when he couldn’t even rely on himself to tell what was real and what was not right now.

But then again, this felt different, and was he slowly starting to realize the small changes. He could feel the bond, buzzing as it always was, could feel Cas’ emotions spilling into it like a freaking tsunami. He hadn’t been able to feel the bond at all in his mind, like the connection had been cut off, much like it had been when Cas had isolated himself from the world in that cabin. The Mark was quieter too, like the wall there had been between them was back up. It was burning in his arm, grumbling and cursing lowly, but it didn’t sound as loud and clear as it had in the illusion.

This was… this was real.

He had gotten out. He had… he was…

“Shhh,” Cas whispered against his hair, and it was just then that Dean realized he was shaking. A hand began to card through his hair, soothing and calming, slowly petting the short strands, “You’re safe now, Dean. You’re safe. I’m here. This is real. You’re safe. You’re both safe.”

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes and finally allowing his body to relax in Cas’ hold, letting his hands grip the angel’s shirt, suddenly afraid he might pull away. He wanted to speak, wanted to ask how he’d gotten to the Bunker, wanted to know what had happened after the whole showdown with Cain in that barn, but he couldn’t find his voice to speak. His throat felt clogged and dry and soon enough he felt the first sob building up in his throat and making its way out of his lips.

Cas held him tighter at the sound, continuing to whisper reassuring words against his hair as the first tears followed, running his hand through it as the angel all but rocked him on the bed, holding him as he cried.

And Dean let it all out; didn’t hold any of it back. This was a long time coming, he knew that, had been for months now. He had been holding it all back behind a wall, locked it away deep into his mind so he wouldn’t break down, so none of it would ever come out, would ever break through.

But this, right here, had been his tipping point.

The dam broke, giving out under not only months, but years of repression, of burying his emotions into this deep hole and throwing layer and layer of crap over it to cover it up, of ignoring everything he had gone through in Hell and pretending it had never happened, of forgetting all the lives he'd taken as a demon, of shoving away the crippling fear that he might snap again and hurt the people he loved because of the Mark, that he might once more become the very thing he hated the most in this world, that he might actually lose this baby; he’d been leaving it all locked behind a door in the very back of his mind, in a dark, unvisited place where none of it could bother him so he didn’t need to think about it, but right now it was all right there in front of his eyes, out in the open and flooding his entire being, overwhelming him all at once, and suddenly it all became just  _too fucking much._

The Mark knew exactly what to make him break, and it had pressed all the right buttons with startling precision.

Dean had never felt more helpless, more lost in his life.

So he sobbed into Cas’ shirt, let his body shake as he held onto the angel for dear life, his anchor, his rock in that moment, the only thing that gave him the slightest bit of sanity, the only light he had when there was nothing but darkness around him. He was painfully aware of something, and all it did was make him even more terrified.

The Mark had broken him, and he feared this time he couldn’t be fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warning (with details):_ There are two very strong scenes in this chapter. Both of them contain flashbacks of Dean being tortured in Hell by Alastair, which both happen inside Dean's mind, and the second one goes beyond that and has Dean hallucinating about Sam, Cas and Charlie dead, and then having flashes of himself killing them all and Crowley. The illusion also includes him miscarrying and losing the baby. It's all pretty graphic, but I assure you it all happens inside Dean's head and nothing about it is real.
> 
>  _Scene 1:_ Begins at **"Screams."** and ends at **"Throwing his head back, Dean screamed."**
> 
>  _Scene 2:_ Begins at **"Dean had been wrong."** and ends at **"White light."**
> 
> New Additional Tags: _Hell Flashbacks_ and _Additional Warnings In Author's Note_
> 
> So, the Mark is getting pretty bad, huh? That can't be good... And how will they possibly find Cas' Grace in time? I wonder... ;) ;)
> 
> I promise Sam will find out about the baby soon, just a few more chapters. ;)
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone! See you all next year!<3 :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you all so much for all the lovely comments and kudos. It makes my day to know you guys are really liking this story.<3 :)
> 
> I really tried to post this chapter earlier, but I've been editing it for two weeks straight and it just never seemed good enough. Finally I'm happy with it, although I hadn't planned for it to turn out so heavy, that kind of just happened. It's not as dark as the last one, though, but it's still pretty heavy. I promise things will get better soon.<3 :)
> 
> I also didn't plan for it to turn out so long. This is now the longest chapter of the story. I don't even know how that happened. XD
> 
> Once again I apologize if any information presented in this chapter is inaccurate. I did my best to adapt my own ideas to the actual Biology facts from my internet research, and I apologize if anything is wrong or does not make sense.
> 
>  **Warning: This chapter contains graphic torture and attempted murder of an unborn child.** It also contain a brief mention of natural miscarriage and spoilers from the episodes 10x11, "There's No Place Like Home" and 10x18, "Book of the Damned".
> 
> There is one strong scene in this chapter, and just as I did in the last chapter, the beginning and end of that scene are in bold, and there's a more detailed warning about it down in the end notes. There is another strong mention of the Mark's illusions throughout the chapter, but that's only a few paragraphs long and that entire part is in italic, if you want to skip it as well.
> 
>  _Important:_ For those who skipped the heavy scenes in the last chapter, you need to know this, or else some parts of this chapter will not make sense. In the Mark's illusion, Dean relived memories from Hell, and during the second torture scene in the last chapter, Dean realized he wasn't actually in Hell and managed to get out of his cell, but found himself walking around in a maze of identical Bunker hallways. When finally he got to the library, there was blood on the floor and he soon found Sam, Cas and Charlie lying dead before him, and then had flashes of himself killing them and Crowley. After that he went into early labor, miscarrying, and just as he'd been ready to give into the Mark, just wishing for everything to be over, Cas managed to get him out.
> 
> Please don't hate me!<3

“What the hell happened?” Dean’s voice was raspy, weak and so clearly tired, even to his own ears. His throat hurt as he spoke, feeling unusually dry and sensitive, like he hadn’t spoken in freaking days, but he still forced the words out, even as that thought set a weight in his chest. He had no idea how long he had been out for and the doubt of it truly terrified him.

He and Cas had moved a little since he’d woken up. They were actually lying on the bed now, but the angel was still holding him, arms still firmly wrapped around Dean like a lifeline, keeping their bodies flush together on the mattress. The hunter was also gripping Cas tightly, an arm thrown over the angel’s chest as he laid his head on Cas’ shoulder, breathing in the angel’s scent with every breath he took. The hand carding through Dean’s hair hadn’t stopped either, working slowly but insistently, and Dean let the touch ground him, focusing on it as he constantly reminded himself that it was real. He had been doing that for over an hour now, and finally his mind was actually registering the differences between this and the illusion. At least that was his guess on how long they had been here, but it could be more, or even less, he couldn’t tell. He still felt too out of it to know for sure; his notion of time was obviously not working at all right now.

There were countless pillows spread all around them on the bed and a thick duvet thrown over their bodies, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to comment on the return of Cas’ nesting. The last time the angel had done this he had been anxious and worried about leaving the Bunker, so it wasn’t hard for Dean to figure out why the habit was suddenly back now. It made Dean feel even worse, because he knew it was his fault; he was the reason Cas was feeling so anxious the angel had felt the need to nest again after so long.

They hadn’t talked at all until now, though. For a long time, Dean's heart had simply refused to calm down, even after he’d realized that he wasn’t actually in Hell; that he hadn’t killed everyone he cared about, and that he and the baby were fine. Fortunately, Dean hadn't had a heart attack, and eventually his pulse began to slow down when finally both his mind and body fully registered that he had actually broken out of that damn illusion, that sick trick played the Mark had to his mind, and that he was in fact safe in the Bunker now. Cas hadn’t forced Dean to talk at all as they had waited, and the hunter was glad for it; for the soothing silence the angel had allowed to linger in the room around them. It had most likely been the only reason why he had managed to actually calm down.

But he knew they had to talk about this, so they might as well do it now.

“It was the Mark.” Cas’ voice was also startlingly weak, rough and almost painful, like his vocal chords had been replaced by sandpaper. It sounded so wrong that Dean actually raised his head to look at the angel, confused and honestly a little startled. Cas looked so tired, exhausted even, and that definitely didn’t make Dean feel any better. The deep, dark circles under the angel's eyes and frighteningly pale skin set a weight over Dean’s heart, guilt quickly welling up in his gut. “It lashed out when you killed Cain. There was this… burst of energy coming from it. It flowed into you and then into me, and I tried to block it, I tried to fight it. My Grace protected the baby, but I—” The words stopped there, this painful, almost choked sound escaping the angel’s throat, like a breath that for some reason had gotten caught on the way out, and he swallowed once before continuing, “I wasn’t strong enough to stop it from harming you, but I tried to, anyway. But it soon became too much and I blacked out, and when I woke up, we were already here. Sam brought us both to the Bunker. He said Gabriel fought the Mark after we were both unconscious, and I assume that's the reason why there wasn't any further damage done to us.”

Dean swallowed, feeling grateful for Gabriel's help back at the barn even more now than he had before, but he chose not to comment on it. His mind was still too muddled for that, it seemed. Instead, he settled for resting his head back down onto the angel's chest, letting out a tired breath through his parted lips. The whole thing with Cain seemed like a distant memory, like it had happened so long ago, and yet he knew it hadn’t. Or had it? He really couldn't tell. “How long?”

Cas didn't need any more words to know exactly what Dean wanted to know. “Sixteen days.”

Dean closed his eyes, because that was just so much more than he had expected, and yet it seemed like so little compared to how long it had been inside his head. He had relived what had felt like 30 years from Hell in those two weeks, and yet the fact that he had been unconscious for so long back here in the real world still startled him.

But then again, he hadn't actually gone through all 30 years, had he? That didn't even seem possible. It had felt like it, true, but all he had actually lived through had been the highlights, the most terrible memories the Mark could fish out from the deepest, darkest part of his mind; the ones that stood out from the others and that would for sure have a bigger effect on him.

The ones that would break him more easily.

“I tried to get you out sooner, to get into your head somehow, but I was blocked by the Mark, even with the mental link. There was this… wall keeping me out of your mind and I could not break through it, no matter how much I tried.” Cas’ words were strained, his voice pained, like he was blaming himself for not being able to reach into Dean’s head, and it hurt the hunter to hear it.

“Cas…” Dean raised his head from the angel’s shoulder once more, shaking his head lightly, because it actually pained him that Cas continued to do this, to take blame, guilt, for things that weren’t his fault. The hunter got that the angel didn’t like feeling helpless, but this had been the very reason why he had swallowed that borrowed Grace in the first place; why he’d hidden away in Absarokee and almost killed himself trying to break the soul bond; why he'd freaking apologized when they'd first found out that Dean was pregnant, and that little guilt complex of his was really starting to become a problem. And Dean knew that a few words wouldn’t change that, of course not, but he had to try. “Cas, you tried, that’s what matters. And you got me out anyway.”

Cas’ eyes made his response clear, even though the angel didn’t say it out loud. He wanted to argue, to disagree, but fortunately he didn't. The hunter remained quiet as well, because already Dean knew that saying anything else would do nothing. Cas could be pretty stubborn when he wanted to, and it would take a lot more than just a few words from Dean to change the angel's mind about that, so the hunter could only hope that eventually he would be able to get through the angel somehow.

So instead of insisting on the subject right now, he chose to ask, “How did you get in, though?”

Cas shook his head lightly, “I’m not sure. Gabriel mentioned that you would need to break free from the Mark's influence yourself, although that wasn’t quite what happened. The barrier got weaker without any warning, so I entered your mind and I pulled you out.”

Dean knew that if Cas hadn’t gotten into his head, he wouldn’t have broken free. He realized now that he had been about to give in to the Mark right then, and he couldn’t help but wonder what would have followed that. Nothing good, that much he could be sure of. A chill ran down his spine at the thought.

He also wondered what could have made the barrier grow weaker. The illusion had been just as vivid as before when the angel had gotten to him, so what changed? True, he hadn't been in Hell anymore by then, and that shift might mean something, but the images had been just as terrible and real to him even then. What could have made the barrier weaker? What had he done differently that time? What had—

“I realized it was fake,” he breathed out, looking back up at Cas, and the angel’s eyebrows furrowed a little, “Just before you got inside, I… I realized everything that was happening wasn’t real.” He was pretty sure that was why the illusion had shifted scenarios, too, throwing him into the Bunker instead of keeping him in his cell.

Slowly, the angel nodded, carefully taking the words in. “I believe that’s what allowed me to break through the barrier. You did not wake up, however, but realizing everything was not real might have weakened the Mark's control over your mind, and that made it possible for me to enter and pull you out of... whatever illusion was happening inside your head.”

The unspoken question was clear, and Dean picked up on it immediately. Cas had been locked out of his head, so did that mean that the angel didn’t know exactly what Dean had been going through? Had he not seen it once he’d gotten inside and pulled Dean out? It seemed like the angel wasn’t sure how to refer to the illusion, because the doubt was obvious in his words, so the hunter could only assume the angel didn't know. Dean couldn't decide if he was relieved about it not.

He swallowed, laying his head back down onto Cas’ chest, and then felt the angel letting out a breath, clearly noticing how Dean had pretty much just dodged the question. The hunter really wanted to ask Cas if he knew what had been happening, just to be sure; if he knew what Dean had been seeing, or at least gotten flashes of it somehow, but he couldn’t bring his mouth to form the words. Part of Dean feared that if he was so straight-forward about this, if he openly shifted the focus of the conversation in that direction, then he would have to talk about it, and he couldn’t do that right now.

Fortunately Cas didn’t push, even if it was obvious that Dean was avoiding the elephant in the room, instead just letting the silence take over the air around them once more. The angel's hand was back to petting Dean's hair carefully, and the hunter closed his eyes, letting his body ease into the touch, starving for it because he hadn’t felt anything like it for decades, or at least that was what it had felt like for him. He hadn’t actually touched anyone like this in so long; been close enough to feel warmth and not having the need to jerk away from it flood him. Every touch he remembered being delivered to him during the past two weeks had had the intetion to hurt him and he had felt nothing but fear brought by the closeness of another being for way too long. It was almost scary how much he'd missed this.

As the silence settled onto them yet again, Dean closed his eyes, and listening to Cas’ heartbeat under his head. It was uneven, more than it had already been before, and the angel’s breathing was now sounding a little forced as well, like he was in pain, or at least like there was something bothering him.

How much exactly had Cas been pushing himself throughout the past couple of weeks?

“Cas, have you…” Dean swallowed, once more lifting his head his head to look at the angel. This time he actually propped himself up a little better on his elbows, deciding that he was lifting his head to look at Cas so much that he might as well just stay that way. He took in the angel's appearance one more time, even though he already knew what he would see, but that didn't make it any easier. The tiredness was so evident in Cas’ features that it broke something inside of Dean to see it again, like it hadn't fully registered how bad it really was before. He hadn't commented on it earlier, but now that the obligatory conversation about Dean's supernatural coma was out of the way, he couldn't just ignore how truly terrible the angel looked. “When was the last time you actually slept?”

Cas paused, and the fact that he actually had to think his freaking answer through was already mildly alarming to Dean. “April 24th, in the morning, before I left Colorado to meet you and Sam here so we could discuss what we would do about Cain.”

Of course, the day they had decided to go after Cain in Ohio.

The day everything had freaking fallen apart.

And that had been  _sixteen_  days ago.

“Cas, damn it,” Dean shook his head, struggling to believe what he was hearing but at the same time painfully aware that doing something like that was just like Cas and he really shouldn’t be surprised; shouldn’t have expected anything too different from the angel. “Cas, you shouldn’t have. I mean, you know you can’t do that, not in your state.”

Cas’ eyes grew heavier, sadder, and he nodded. “I know. I… I simply could not rest, even if I tried. Because I was worried, true, but also because of the Mark. It would lash out every time I attempted to sleep.”

Of fucking course the damn Mark had only made this whole thing even worse than it had to be, because pushing Cas to the limit and wasting his Grace seemed to be one of the damn thing’s priorities now, and that was really starting to become a problem.

Dean nodded numbly, accepting the answer because what other choice did he have? He couldn’t change anything about it now. “You should sleep now, though. You look beat.”

“You should eat first. I’ve been nourishing you and the baby as much as I could, but I don’t believe it would be wise for me to continue doing that for much longer now that you're awake.”

Dean didn’t really feel hungry, but he nodded nonetheless. It made the worry spike in his chest to think about just how much of his borrowed Grace Cas had spent while Dean had been out if the angel had been freaking sustaining Dean and the baby along with himself, but then again, Dean couldn’t change any of that now; couldn't fix it in any way. All he could do was make sure that stopped now.

Before he could get up, though, a thought occurred to him, and instantly he felt the Mark burning in response to it. It hurt a lot more than it had before, the pain shooting up and down his arm instead of being located only where the Mark resided on his forearm. It was actually a lot harder to ignore it than it should be, the grumbling still incoherent, but louder and angrier than Dean remembered it to be two weeks ago. It reminded Dean of how loud the Mark had been back in the barn, and that thought put a sour taste in his mouth, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut, because this couldn’t be good. The Mark was way louder than it should be normally, and that could either mean that it was stronger or that Cas’ Grace was too weak to numb it like before, maybe even both.

He shouldn’t have gone after Cain, he realized that now. The whole thing had been a mistake from the start.

But what could they have done, then? Just waited some time until Cain came after him, and in consequence, after their child? What if Dean didn’t have the Mark by then, what could they have done against the Knight? How the hell could they have protected the baby?

Shaking his head, Dean pushed those thoughts away, because what was the point of them now? Of worrying about something that had already been dealt with? They couldn’t change the past, or at least not anymore, anyway. It was all said and done now, and all that was left for them to do was dealing with the consequences of the choices they'd made.

So he focused back on the present, pushing all those pointless doubts away. “What about the Blade? Did Crowley…?” Dean had promised to give it back to the demon once Cain was dealt with, and while the hunter had had no intention of keeping that promise, he hadn’t been conscious afterwards to make sure Crowley wouldn’t get his hands on it again.

“No,” Cas shook his head lightly, “Sam said Crowley wanted it, but Gabriel did not allow it. After he helped us, Gabriel took it with him.”

Dean didn’t know whether he should feel relieved to hear that or not, knowing that Gabriel now had one of the most dangerous things they had ever come across, but it was useless without the Mark and at least the archangel having it was better than Crowley, so Dean decided to see that one as a win for now. They could deal with it later if they had to.

They got up from the bed then, intending to go to the kitchen and get them both something to eat, because apparently Cas had actually been about to have a meal himself when he’d finally managed to get into Dean’s head.

As soon as they walked through the doorway, though, the chills started. The sight of the exact same walls that had been all around Dean in the Mark’s illusion made him pause, the hallway before him familiar in a very bad way, because the last memory he had of this place included himself running through endless hallways, lost and terrified, pain everywhere in his body, the Mark chanting in his mind, and the baby, the  _baby..._

A hand gripped his arm and he jumped, pulling the limb back and out of the hand's hold on instinct, not even thinking as he quickly moved away from the unexpected touch as if it’d burned him. He realized a moment later how ridiculous that was and felt a stab through his heart at the broken, sad look Cas gave him in response, much like the one he’d sent Dean’s way back in Absarokee when the hunter had done almost the same thing.

“Sorry,” Dean shook his head, cursing himself mentally for being so skittish. He was back in the real world now and there was no reason for fear, he told himself, but apparently his body still hadn’t adjusted to that notion. “I’m just… still a little shaky, that’s all.”

The look in Cas’ eyes got even sadder, more worried, and Dean reached out at the sight of it, letting his hand find Cas’ arm and stepping closer to the angel, trying to prove his point. “I’m fine, Cas,” he insisted, leaning in to kiss the angel briefly. Cas let their lips brush, but didn’t allow the kiss to linger for too long, and the hunter sighed as he slowly pulled away to take in the angel's still very much worried expression, “Seriously. I just gotta adjust, alright?”

The angel didn’t seem convinced, but nodded in agreement.

Deciding that was the best response he would get from Cas, Dean turned back to face the corridor. His vision funneled a little, and he swallowed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He could do this. He just had to stop being a wimp and fucking deal with this. He just had to fucking fight it. He could walk around his own damn home and go get something to eat. He wasn’t going to let the Mark break him like it was trying to.

Swallowing once more, Dean started walking. Cas followed closely, like he expected the hunter to have a breakdown at any moment, clearly afraid that Dean might just topple over to the floor without a warning. Dean couldn’t find it in himself to complain, to tell Cas that there was no need for him to do that. Honestly, he was afraid that if he said anything Cas might step away to give him space or something, because having the angel close seemed to actually be helping quiet down the Mark a little bit.

As they walked, Dean wondered where Sam was. He would have imagined his brother would have showed up already by now. He had to have heard Dean and Cas talking, right? The Bunker had a tendency to amplify sounds and make them echo through the empty hallways, as Dean and Cas were very much aware of by now, so Sam should have heard them. Or maybe he was just too concentrated in a book in the library to notice it, Dean decided.

Only Sam wasn’t in the library, which was odd. Dean had sort of convinced himself he would find his brother there, and not seeing Sam as they walked into the room was a little confusing. He frowned, and it was just then that Dean realized he didn't even know what time of the day it was. Maybe it was late and Sam was sleeping?

“Sam’s not here, Dean.”

Dean turned his head to the side, giving Cas a surprised and confused look, a frown taking over his brows as he waited for an explanation.

“He left a few days ago. Charlie called from Des Moines. She.... found the Book of the Damned. Sam went to her location to help her with it.”

Oh, so that was new. Dean had actually been starting to get a little worried about Charlie, since she had been gone for so long and had just completely cut off contact with them, which just wasn’t like her.

A spark of hope started blossoming in Dean’s gut before he even allowed it, and the words were out of his mouth just a second later, “Wait, but is there…?”

The shake of head that Dean got in response actually hurt. “We don’t know. The Book… it’s written in a language I can’t even identify or decipher. Charlie and Sam have been attempting to translate it as well. However, none of us have been successful so far.”

Well, wasn’t that just fantastic.

But this wasn’t a no. There might be a cure in that Book, or at least something to make the Mark better, weaken it somehow, anything. He had to stay hopeful, and he couldn’t help but hold onto that thought as he started walking again.

The sight of the war room made the Mark burn even more angrily, reminding him of just what Dean had seen on the floor of that room in the illusion, but Dean focused on the buzzing of the bond to try and send it away. Surprisingly, it actually worked a little.

“Why didn’t Charlie come here, though?” That seemed way more logic and smart than having Sam go to her. Wouldn’t it be easier for them to try to translate the Book if they had the entirety of the Men of Letters’ library at their disposal?

Cas didn't respond right away, as if considering his next words carefully in his head, and the angel's abrupt silence was so uncharacteristic, it rang such a wrong note in Dean's ears, that the human paused his walking, standing in the middle of the hallway that led to the kitchen. He briefly registed the relief he felt to be out of the war room, but he made no comment about it, of course.

Cas paused as well, a few steps ahead, and he turned around slowly, giving Dean a look that told the hunter everything—there was something Cas didn’t want to tell him, something the angel wasn’t sure he should say.

But Dean needed to know. No matter how bad this thing was that Cas wanted to spare Dean from, or whatever it was that the angel wanted to do by not saying anything, Dean had to hear it. He would have to know eventually, Cas had to be aware of that, and sure, maybe the angel wanted to wait a while because Dean had basically just woken up from a supernatural coma after over two weeks, but Dean didn’t care. He wanted the truth.

“Cas,” that was all he said, but he knew the angel got it all without him saying it out loud, heard it in his tone, in his voice, and maybe in his mind, too. Dean still didn’t know how to tell when he was projecting, but more often than not he was, so it was worth a guess that he was.

Cas let out a sigh, but Dean instantly knew he had won as he watched Cas’ resolve fade. The angel's hesitance was still clear, his desire to just not say anything still pretty much painted across his face, but he still said, “When Charlie called days ago… she was wounded. There are people following her. They've been trying to get to her since she found the Book, and she didn’t know who they were. Sam researched them in the Men of Letters' files, and apparently, they’re… an old family that used the Book decades ago for their own, twisted gain. They lost it at some point, but now that it’s resurfaced…”

“They want it again,” Dean concluded. Well, that didn't sound good at all. “Who are they?”

Cas’ eyes grew even heavier than before, and he swallowed once. “They’re known as the Stynes. And they’re very much intent on getting the Book back, no matter the cost.”

Well, this was just what they needed—a crazy family wanting to kill them because they wanted the Book of the Damned. Great. As if they didn’t already have enough to deal with.

The Universe really did hate them.

“They still in Des Moines?” he asked as he finally resumed walking, and Cas fell in place by his side quickly as they continued to make their way to the Bunker’s kitchen.

“No,” Cas shook his head again, “They’re being followed still, so they’re constantly moving. They’re using Bobby’s safe houses. As of yesterday they were in North Carolina.”

Dean nodded, thankful for the fact that Bobby had been a paranoid bastard and had had so many safe houses spread all over the country. They really came in handy sometimes, although not so much now that they had the Bunker.

“That’s why they didn’t come here?” he asked, “Because they’re still being followed?”

Cas nodded. “Sam and Charlie were both concerned the Stynes might find the Bunker, because they had been tracking the Book somehow. Sam took a warded lead box to keep the Book in with him, but still, they should not risk it, especially not with you unconscious.”

Dean nodded in response, silently agreeing. It made sense, now that Dean knew the reason for his brother not to be there; he would have done the same thing had it been Sam unconscious. “Well, we should go meet up with them.”

They had reached the kitchen by then, but Cas did not follow Dean inside. The hunter turned around when he noticed it, confused, and found the angel standing by the doorway, looking troubled once more.

“Dean,” His name came out in a sigh as Cas spoke, “We should wait, at least a few days. You were unconscious for over two weeks, and your body is still weakened. You cannot simply…” The angel shook his head as took a few steps forward, closing the distance between them and reaching out, placing a hand on Dean’s stomach when he was close enough. “You need rest, Dean. You both do. Please.”

A shaky breath escaped Dean’s lips, and as much as he wanted to argue that they couldn’t just sit around here while Sam and Charlie were out there, running away from whatever psychos wanted to get their hands on that book, he couldn’t bring himself to let out a single word. He felt tired, true, but any other day, that wouldn’t be enough to stop him, to change his mind about going to help Sam and Charlie when they needed him; to make him just ignore the fact that the pair was out there, risking their lives for him just because he had been out for two weeks. He was awake now, and normally that would be all that mattered, tiredness be damned. Any other day he’d be out of the Bunker tonight even, and he’d be flooring his way to North Carolina through the night, because that was just how he operated; who he was.

But that wasn’t going to happen this time, because this wasn’t just about him anymore. His mind instantly went back to the illusions, remembering how terrified he had felt that his baby was hurting, that something might happen to it. Losing the baby in the illusion had been the most terrible thing that had ever happened to him, even worse than his years in Hell, and he just couldn’t feel like that again. He couldn’t take the risk, not with this, and if a few days of rest was what the baby needed, then…

“Okay,” he let out, nodding numbly, “We’ll wait a few days, but then we join them, Cas. We can’t just let them deal with all of this on their own.”

Cas nodded in response, although he didn’t look too happy about doing it. He still looked relieved, though. “Very well,” he replied, and Dean noticed how the angel’s hand still lingered on his stomach for a moment before he let it slide back down to hang by his side.

“I’m gonna call Sam now, though.” Dean reached into his pants pocket, but his phone wasn’t there. A little more digging around and patting of his clothing later and he still hadn’t found it, which had a confused frown settling in his brows, but just as he looked up to ask Cas about it, he found the angel holding out his own phone in a silent offering.

“Your phone was in your pants pocket. I… found it uncomfortable to leave it there and removed it. It’s in your nightstand, although I believe the battery is dead. I did not see any point in recharging it if you were not going to use it.”

Dean nodded, taking the offered phone. “Thanks, Cas.” He swiped his finger across the screen to unlock it, finding Sam’s contact pretty easily, since apparently the last 13 calls Cas had made had been either to or from his brother throughout the past few days.

So he pressed call, raising the phone to his ear and waiting for Sam to pick up.

It rang four times.

_“Hey, Cas.”_

His brother sounded terrible, that was the first thing Dean noticed. The tiredness, the lack of sleep—it was all right there, clear as crystal in his voice. If there was any way to identify exhaustion just by hearing someone's voice, that had to be it, and Dean felt his heart heavy in his chest, because he knew this was his fault. Fuck, he was slowly killing everyone around him, wasn't he?

Swallowing drily as he tried to push that thought away, Dean tried to keep his voice steady, even managing a smile as he said, “Heya, Sammy.”

A beat of silence went by before Dean got a breathy response,  _“Dean? You’re awake? How—when?”_

“About an hour ago. Cas…” Dean glanced at the angel, who was watching him with attentive, worried eyes. He still looked like he was expecting Dean to just pass out right then and there. “He got me out.” He smiled at Cas as he said. It didn’t quite reach the angel’s eyes, but the corners of his mouth did go up a little in response, and that was already something.

 _“Yeah, that’s good. That’s…”_ Dean could almost hear his brother shaking his head on the other end, and Dean wondered if Sam had just woken up, because he sounded a little out of it. Or maybe he was just terribly tired. Either way, it already made Dean feel bad for calling him at all. Sam needed rest, clearly.  _“How… How are you feeling?”_ Sam’s voice grew lower at the end, slower, more tentative, words laced with hesitancy.

Dean swallowed, glancing at Cas once more, but the angel wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was actually just standing there, looking at anywhere but Dean. He looked a little awkward, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, like he didn't want to leave but thought that it was impolite or something equally ridiculous to just keep watching Dean in silence while he talked on the phone, and any other time, Dean might have chuckled at just how, well…  _Cas_  of him it was to do that.

But he didn’t feel like chuckling right now, didn’t know if he could even if he tried.

“I don’t know. A little weird. It’s…” He pulled in a breath, shaking his head, “I don’t even know. I’m still a little shaky.”

Sam was silent again, mulling over the words he’d just heard, Dean assumed, or maybe trying to figure out how to say something, how to word whatever it was that might be going through his head then.

 _“Cas said there was something blocking him, that wasn’t letting him into your heard,”_ Sam’s voice was still tentative, but it seemed more careful now, like he was struggling to find the right words,  _“Do you… do you remember anything? You looked like you were in a coma, but you were freaking screaming, dude.”_

Dean swallowed again, closing his eyes as images flashed behind his eyelids.

_Pain. Hell. The slice of Alastair’s blade on his skin, his own blood soaking through his ripped clothes, the spikes in his cuffs digging into his skin when he pulled at his restrains. He knew he deserved to be there, that he'd all but asked for this, but it hurt, it hurt so freaking much and he just wanted out, just wanted it to be fucking over._

_He could hear them all in his head. The screams, the pleas for help that sounded at the same time as if coming from somewhere far away and right beside him, echoing off the walls of his cell and mixing with his own voice as he screamed. His throat was sore and it hurt to do it, but he couldn't help it, couldn't stop the desperate cries from tearing out of his throat. At least they muffled the sound of Alistair's voice, distracted him from the demon's laugh echoing over him._

_And then he was running. Running for his life, trying to find the way out of the countless, identical hallways of the Bunker. And his legs felt heavy, slow, weak, not quite cooperative, not moving as he asked, but he had to get away, to find the way out. His arm burned, the Mark grumbling, cursing, hushed whispers laced with hatred echoing inside his skull, telling him that running was pointless; that he couldn't get away from his fate._

_And it hurt to breathe, it_   ** _freaking hurt_ **_…_

_Dean!_

Dean jumped, having to look around for a moment until he realized where he was.

Kitchen. Bunker. Right.

He blinked a few times, just then realizing that Cas was standing there, right in front him, hand resting on Dean's arm once more. The angel was much closer than he had been before, eyes wide and so clearly worried, and Dean hadn’t even seen him move at all. His mind had just left to another place, it seemed, his surroundings completely fading from his sight. It had actually been pretty much terrifying, especially just how  _quickly_ it had happened. He hadn’t even realized it was happening until it was over.

_“Dean? You still there?”_

Shaking his head, Dean also realized he was still holding the phone against his ear. Sam was still on the other end of the call, and Dean had no idea how long he had just gone quiet for. He assumed a little more than what would be considered normal. “Yeah, I’m here,” he hurried to reply, clearing his throat when his voice came out pathetically squeaky and weak, “I, uh… I just…” He couldn’t for the life of him come up with an excuse, not with his mind still feeling so fuzzy and incoherent.

What he knew for sure was that he definitely wasn’t telling Sam about what he’d seen; about the flashbacks from Hell, the visions of him killing his family, any of it. He couldn’t make himself go through that, not right now.

_“Where the hell did you go just now?”_

“Nowhere, Sam, I just…” Why the hell couldn’t he think of something? He was usually good at this, but his mind just wasn’t providing anything right now, wasn’t willing to help him.

He swallowed, shaking his head once more, deciding that a subject change was the best thing he could do right now. Safe territory and all that. “So, Cas tells me you're working on the Book of the Damned.”

Sam was silent for a beat, because of course he'd sensed the subject change. Cas’ hand remained on Dean's arm, but he didn’t feel the urge to pull away, instead hoped the angel wouldn’t move it so Dean would have something to focus on, something he could touch that was real and solid and that would ground him, alongside with the soul bond. It was working, apparently.

 _“Yeah, we’re… trying to translate it.”_ There was an edge to Sam’s voice, a hint of unhappiness and suspicion that was very hard to ignore, but Dean was glad Sam wasn’t insisting on something Dean didn’t feel ready to talk about. His brother knew something was wrong but he wasn't pushing it, at least not for now.  _“Nothing so far, but you know… It might be something.”_

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out, nodding lightly, “We’ll try over here as well. I mean, four heads working together is better than two, right?”

Sam hummed lowly in agreement, but then was silent again, and for some reason the pause felt different, so Dean knew what was coming next.

 _“Dean, you know you can talk to me, right? About… you know.”_ Dean swallowed, no response coming to his mouth then, and he heard his brother sigh on the other end.  _“Or at least talk to Cas. You can't just… forget or ignore this, Dean. No matter how hard you try. It's just... not healthy, to bottle everything in.”_

Dean let out a breath, doing his best not to look at Cas, because he knew whatever look the angel must be giving him then wouldn't make him feel any better. His brother's words were true, Dean knew that, and that thought alone set a weight in his chest once more.

But he couldn’t deal with this, not right now. It was all too fresh in his mind and just thinking about it seemed to throw him right back into that nightmare, so he really didn't want to take the risk of going back to being comatose if he pushed his mind just a tiny bit too far. “I know, Sammy. I’m just…” Another sigh escaped his lips, “I’m just tired. I guess being out for two weeks wasn’t rest enough.” The attempt at a joke was terrible, and the dry, painfully forced laugh that left his lips was met with no amusement. He cleared his throat, shaking his head lightly. Suddenly he just wanted this call to be over. “Listen, Cas and I are going to stay a few more days here in the Bunker, but then we’ll go to you, okay?”

Another pause, then a sigh, a tired, defeated sound that Dean had heard countless times in his life. Sam wanted to argue, and very much so, but he knew Dean well enough to know a lost battle when he saw one.

_“Yeah, okay. Charlie and I… We’re looking, trying to figure out how to read the Book. Just… Don’t push yourself, Dean. Get some rest, okay?”_

The worry was so clear and heavy in his brother's voice, the plea bleeding into the words with ease, and Dean felt his heart ache in his chest, so all he could say was a weak, halfhearted, “Sure thing, Sammy.”

It took a moment for Dean to look at Cas after the call was over. He knew what he would see when he did, knew the exact look he would find in the angel’s eyes, so of course he hesitated, just staring at the call history on the screen of Cas’ phone for very close to a minute, stalling as he tried to calm his mind down, to sort through his thoughts. His mind still wasn't all that coherent, and he didn’t quite feel like whatever it was that had just happened was completely over. All of a sudden nothing that was around him felt completely real, and he wanted more than anything to just shake that feeling off, but he couldn’t.

Letting out a breath, he forced his eyes up.

What he saw was much, much worse than what he had expected.

Cas’ eyes were pained, worried, just what Dean had expected them to look like, but it was still a hard sight to meet because it just so much worse than what he had thought he would see. The look in the angel's eyes so much heavier than what he'd expected, like the his azure irises had turned a shade darker, as if a shadow hovered over them, blocked some of the natural light that usually shone in them. Cas' expression was sour, such a deep frown in his brows that they actually came close to meeting in the middle. He looked troubled, and it reminded Dean of the night before they’d gone to Ohio, how Cas had looked so lost and worried after Dean had told him why they had to go after Cain. That look was apparently becoming common for the angel, as painful as that thought might be, and Dean hated it.

It was a terrible sight, and it pulled painfully at Dean’s heartstrings, because he had been the one to cause that; it was because of him that the angel looked like that. It just hurt so fucking much to see it, especially because Dean knew it was his own damn fault it was there in the first place.

“Dean…”

Dean shook his head, not sure what he was supposed to say. So he handed Cas his phone back without a single word, watching as the angel hesitantly grabbed it, although his gaze did not leave Dean’s face for even a second, his wide blue eyes waiting, hoping to hear an explanation, the hunter assumed.

“You said you were heating up food?” he asked instead, turning to the stove, finding odd that there was nothing on it. So he walked over to the microwave, opening the door and finding the precise thing he had been fearing to see in there—one of those pre-cooked meals you just put in the microwave, completely unhealthy and gross, just sitting there, mocking Dean silently. It was almost offending, really, and he shook his head. “Okay, we’re not eating  _this_.” He took it out of the microwave, walking over to the trash can by the corner, dumping it all in at once.

Happy to see that poor excuse for food gone, he walked over to the fridge, hoping the reason Cas was eating that frozen crap was because the angel didn’t know how to make anything edible himself, and not because they were out of food.

Dean was relieved to realize the reason was the first one. The fridge wasn't by any means full, but there was enough in it for Dean to be able to throw something together for them. He started grabbing ingredients from the shelves, trying to make up his mind on what he should make, or at least what he felt like making. He wanted something quick, because he still felt tired, but he couldn’t just let Cas eat that processed garbage either. Maybe he could make them omelets? He looked at the eggs, wondering if they were good. How long had they been in there? He’d have to test them, probably…

“Dean.”

Dean looked up, turning his head and all but jumping out of his freaking skin when he found Cas standing there, right at his face. How the hell had he not noticed the angel moving?

“Geez, Cas, warn a guy,” Dean let out, just then actually taking in the heavy frown that still lingered in the angel’s browns, as well as the pretty much reprimanding look in his eyes. He definitely didn’t look happy.

“Dean, you cannot expect me to ignore this.”

Oh, right.

“Cas…” The word was weak as it left his mouth, almost defeated, because he knew from the moment it jumped from his tongue, could tell just by looking at the angel in front of him, that Cas wasn't going to just drop this. If there was someone who could be more stubborn than Dean himself, it was Cas, and he just knew the angel wasn’t going to let this one go too easily. Although Dean really wished he would, because he really didn’t want to talk about this one.

“You… blacked out, Dean. Completely. I was momentarily blocked again, and it took me a while to break through.”

Oh, well, that wasn’t good.

But instead of showing just how worried and confused those words made him, Dean just shrugged, schooling his features into a mask of calmness as best as he could, even if he already knew that wasn't going to be enough to fool the angel. With the mental link, it was actually pretty much pointless, but Dean still let out, “It was nothing, Cas.”

Cas didn’t look convinced, of course not. In fact, his expression got all the more somber when he heard that, heavier, more worried, although he didn’t press more. He just lingered by Dean’s side as the hunter started to prepare the food, helping with chopping the vegetables just like he had done back in their last day at the cabin in Absarokee.

The silence around them was heavy, hanging over their heads like a dark, stormy cloud that didn’t seem willing to go away any time soon.

But Dean ignored it, concentrating on getting all the ingredients he would need ready and not letting his mind wander too much. He really shouldn’t let whatever had made him space out like he had earlier happen again. So he wouldn’t think about it; would avoid any train of thought that might trigger another episode. It was really all he could do about it now.

His hands were unsteady as he tested the eggs, happy to see that they were still edible.  _As he broke them, though, there was just something about watching the shelves crumbling that had chills running down his spine, because suddenly he was seeing bones shattering, grinded and being turned into nothing but dust._

Closing his eyes, Dean did his best to push the Mark away, focusing on Cas, who still hadn’t moved from his side. The bond was buzzing strongly between them and Dean forced his mind to focus on the feeling of that alone.

It worked a little bit, but only barely, and Dean could still feel his hand shake as he continue to prepare the food. He helped Cas finish chopping the vegetables that would go into the omelets and felt his hand trembling nonstop as he did it, which was made more obvious when the damn metal blade hit the hard surface below it.

Cas didn’t try to get him away from the counter because of it, though, instead stopping his own work so he could orbit closer until finally he settled against Dean, chest pressed against the hunter’s back, arms wrapped around Dean’s waist, chin resting on the human’s shoulder. The angel didn’t say a thing, didn’t comment on how unsteady the human's movements were, didn’t try to get Dean to sit down; didn’t even try to get the hunter to open up about the illusions. He just stayed there, offering silent comfort, and Dean gladly took it, the heat from Cas' body quickly flooding him with warmth and grounding him more than he’d thought anything could right now.

When Dean remembered that the baby vitamins were probably back in their room, he felt a chill running down his spine at the mere thought of going there to get the little box from his nightstand, but he knew he would have to do it. It was for his baby, so it had to be done. As he brought it up, though, Cas told him that there would be no need for him to take any tablets today, since the angel had already taken two and transferred to Dean everything the baby needed from them for the day. Dean felt a tug at his heart at those words, and he couldn't find it in himself to comment. He chose to focus on the relief that he wouldn't need to walk across the Bunker again so soon.

The omelets turned out good, but he’d made better before. He still felt a little out of sorts somehow, although he knew that was to be expected. He hadn’t been conscious in over two weeks, so of course his body and mind weren’t working normally just yet, probably wouldn’t for a while, especially with the Mark making everything worse. Still, he was a little annoyed to taste the food a little too salty, the underside a little too burned, the crust not as crunchy as he liked it.

But it would have to do.

Cas didn’t complain, instead eating his own omelet silently and eagerly, probably happy to finally eat something that hadn’t been pre-cooked. Dean knew the feeling all too well, with all the years he and Sam had spent on the road. He had rarely dared to get his hands on anything he would have to cook in a motel room, but now it was easier, with having their own kitchen and all that. He had been practicing a lot over the past two years they’d been living here, so much that over that time he had already learned to make more things than he’d ever thought he could. He actually enjoyed cooking, as surprising as that might be.

The silence lingered, and in to time Dean started to get itchy under his skin, all too aware of the eventual glances Cas would throw his way, of how the angel was watching him like a hawk, like he feared Dean might have another episode at ay given second, like his mind might suddenly go back to whatever place it had earlier, where those memories were stored.

Like the angel feared this time he wouldn’t be able to come back.

Dean couldn’t say he didn’t share that feeling himself.

“You said,” Dean licked his lips, watching as Cas looked up at him from his food, clearly surprised to be hearing the human’s voice at all. Honestly, Dean was surprised with himself for being the one to break the silence, but he just couldn't bear it any longer, “You said you talked to Gabriel?”

Cas nodded slowly. “He stopped by, after Sam left, while you were still unconscious. He couldn’t help break you out of the Mark’s illusion, however.”

Well, Dean wasn't exactly surprised to hear that, so he nodded slowly. If Gabriel had been able to help, then Cas wouldn’t have been the one to pull Dean out and definitely not after so long. Again, apparently Dean had needed to be the one to break free, and it had taken him a while to realize nothing that was happening to him was truly real. “What about the Book of the Damned, though? Can’t he help with that?” Gabriel was an archangel, after all; it seemed weird that he also couldn’t read the damn thing.

Cas paused, and for some reason the silence sounded a little wrong. Cas actually moved his food around on his plate a little before responding, which had Dean’s eyebrows furrowing in confusion, because it just wasn’t like Cas to act like that. That could only mean there was something wrong, or that the angel didn’t know how to share.

It made Dean uneasy.

“Gabriel told me he believes the Book of the Damned could indeed have something to remove the Mark of Cain,” he said finally, and Dean’s heart all but skipped a damn beat. Why hadn’t Cas mentioned this earlier? “However, he also…” Another pause, and briefly Dean wondered why the angel seemed to be thinking his words through so much. “He would be of no help in translating the Book, so that task falls to us.”

There was something about the phrasing of that that bothered Dean, and he wasn’t sure what it was about it. Cas hadn't outright said that Gabriel couldn’t read the Book, he'd only said that the archangel wouldn’t be helpful. The way the angel had seemed to choose his words so carefully, and then had simply dismissed the subject after that, had Dean feeling a little intrigued. There was something Cas wasn't telling him, Dean was certain of it.

“Is that all you two talked about?” He was curious; sue him. Cas acting weird set off all sorts of alarms ringing inside Dean’s head.

Cas looked back up with hesitancy clear in his eyes, but Dean just held his gaze, silently waiting for an answer while wordlessly telling Cas that he wasn’t just going to drop this. Two could play that game.

The angel sighed a moment later, resolve apparently fading. “I’m… worried about what Gabriel might be attempting on his own. I’m sure you remember he mentioned having a plan of his own but refused to tell us about it.” Dean nodded lightly in response. “When he stopped by, he mentioned he had not been able to respond to my calls to him right away because he had ventured down to Hell.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What the fuck was he doing in Hell?”

“Apparently, attempting to talk to Michael and Lucifer, although he assured me he wasn't successful.”

Oh, well, that didn’t sound good at all. No, that sounded like a very,  _very_  bad idea, and Dean didn’t even know what Gabriel was planning to do. What he was sure of, however, was that involving the two other archangels down in that freaking Cage was truly the worst idea anyone could have, like, ever.

“Why?”

“According to Gabriel, Lucifer bore the Mark once, but he removed it from himself.” Okay,  _that_  was news that Dean wasn’t sure how to process. “He didn’t create the Mark himself, just passed it on to Cain. I assume Gabriel wished to talk to him and Michael about that.”

“Still,” Dean shook his head, “Man, that’s shady, even for him.” Dean really was thankful to Gabriel for saving them and the baby back at the barn, but still he couldn’t fully trust the guy, and this was exactly why.

“I’m not sure what he has in mind, but I’m hesitant to agree with it.”

Dean could only nod in agreement.

Silence fell over them after that, and this time the awkward pause was only broken again when they were done with their food. Dean left the dishes in the sink to be dealt with later, because he had to get Cas to bed, so he didn’t have the time to deal with that right now. Fortunately Cas didn’t resist when Dean all but dragged him back to their room, intent on making sure Cas was actually going to freaking rest. The angel was oddly quiet as they walked, though, and Dean hated how tense and loaded the silence felt around them. That was unusual for them now and he despised it, but couldn’t find it in himself to break it this time, not when the Bunker hallways passed around them and the only thing that kept Dean sane was focusing on the soft yet constant buzzing of the soul bond. It was the only thing that told him that Cas was actually there and that this was real, and he held onto that like a lifeline.

When they got to the room, it felt as though a few hundred pounds had been lifted off Dean's shoulders, like some of the tension from the illusion melted right away, because this room was safe; it was familiar, no memories of torture or pain painted on the walls around him, and the sight of the nest on the bed along with the bond's buzzing calmed him incredibly.

At least in his room he could feel human again.

They laid down on the bed right away, and it was just a matter of a mere couple of minutes until Cas was out, curled up to Dean, holding on to the hunter even in his sleep.

Dean wouldn’t sleep, though, of course not. He’d been unconscious for over two damn weeks, so obviously he didn’t want to go back to that.

Also, there was this insistent voice in the back of his head that kept telling him that if he slept again he might go back to that damn illusion, and honestly, the single thought of it terrified him so much he decided to just stay awake while Cas slept for now. He’d plugged his phone in beside the bed before lying down and now he could just play with it, so he settled for that, because he couldn't exactly do any research. He hadn't thought to bring any books with him from the library, and with the way Cas was lying on him there was no way he could balance his laptop on his lap without disturbing the angel’s sleep.

Well, that and he really wanted to give his mind a break for a few hours, was that too much to ask?

It took three hours for him to want to pee.

He ignored it at first, but the need grew ridiculously fast and soon enough it became clear that he would really have to go or else he would actually be running the risk of doing it on the bed, and that would be just awesome.

Untangling Cas from him was a challenge, but he managed without waking up the angel and he considered that as a victory.

He didn’t let himself think much as he crossed the hall and made a break for the bathroom, because his bladder was about to burst and that was really all his mind could focus on at the moment.

When that little issue was out of the way, though, as Dean washed his hands, he caught the first glance of himself in the mirror over the sink. His beard hadn't grown all that much while he had been out, which was a little confusing, but maybe Cas had shaved it for him, Dean concluded. His hair was a mess, his skin a little paler than it should be and there were bags under his eyes that pretty much matched Cas'.

Fuck, he looked terrible. He actually looked sick.

Shaking his head at that, he also noticed he was wearing the same clothes from Ohio, and then wondered how the hell he wasn't stinking like a freaking skunk. Seriously, he had been on that bed for 16 days, so how the hell was his smell even bearable at all? How—

Oh.

Cas didn't use to take showers, did he? When he had been full angel? He had probably used his Grace for that as well, Dean realized, feeling guilt once again making itself known in his gut. As if he didn't feel like crap already.

Pushing that thought aside because again, there was nothing he could do about that now, he quickly decided that even if maybe he was clean, a shower could probably help him relax a little and maybe lessen the damn tension that still insistently clung to his muscles, so Dean crossed the hallway silently, walking back into their room to grab some clean clothes and a towel.

He couldn't help but smile fondly when he glanced over at the bed, finding that at some point Cas had curled up to a few pillows and buried himself even deeper under the duvet. Warmth flooded Dean's chest at the sight, and he couldn't resist the urge to walk over to the bed and place a light, gentle kiss to the angel's forehead, careful not to wake him.

As it turned out, Dean had been right. Taking a shower did make him feel better. The warm water danced over his skin just the right way, sliding over him and washing the tension away from his body so beautifully well that Dean lingered under the spray for way longer than he had originally planned to, just enjoying the marvelous water pressure. When he was done he felt lighter, in a better mood if that was even possible in his current state, although he knew his shower would have been even better if Cas had been in there with him.

But that couldn't happen right now. He still felt way too out of sorts to do anything of that sort, so maybe it really was for the best that Cas was asleep right now. Another time, he decided.

As he got dressed, Dean noticed he was thirsty. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue, of course, because all he had to do was go to the kitchen and get himself a glass of water. It was simple, or at least it should be, but right now with Cas asleep that meant Dean would have to cross the Bunker alone and he wasn’t sure he could do that right now.

He was tempted to ignore the thirst, but then he thought of the baby, because if his body was asking for water then it meant that the baby needed it too, and he couldn’t possibly ignore that.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Dean paused in the hallway, throwing a glance inside the bedroom, seeing nothing more than the rumpled form of Cas curled up under the duvet, barely even visible from out of the room, with just the top of his head sticking out. He sighed at the sight, deciding he really shouldn't disturb the angel's much needed rest before letting his eyes wander down the hallway.

Just looking at it made a chill run through his entire body and Dean swallowed, breathing in and out slowly. The Mark seemed to wake up right then, whispering words Dean couldn’t understand in the back of his head, and he closed his eyes, doing everything he could to push the voice away, to ignore the fucking fear that suddenly pooled into his gut for no actual reason. All the cells in his body were telling him not to walk forward but he ignored it, because this whole thing was just fucking ridiculous.

He could do this, damn it. He couldn’t let the Mark get to him like this. He had to fight it, and to do that he just had to stop being this terrified thing those illusions had turned him into. He could fucking walk around the Bunker, his  _home_ , damn it, and he could go get himself some water without Cas holding his hand through the way.

Opening his eyes again, Dean let out a breath, before forcing his jelly legs to take him forward. His body grew heavier as he walked, the whispers getting louder, but Dean ignored it all, focused his mind on the simple task of walking. The walls around him got distorted in his vision, growing closer as he moved, as if closing in, but Dean told himself that wasn’t real and just kept going.

When finally he reached the library, though, it got worse.

His heart sped up in his chest and he felt the air thinner in his lungs, but he didn't stop. At least not until he looked down and saw blood. It wasn’t focused and seemed almost see-through, but it was there and it was already enough to punch the air right out of his lungs. He knew what would be in the war room waiting for him, could almost see the gruesome scene that would greet him there, and he couldn’t walk forward, couldn’t make himself see that right now, so he stopped, frozen on his spot.

_You’re not going to run this time, Dean._

Closing his eyes, Dean tried to calm down his now frantically beating heart, but the thing seemed to just want to jump right out of his chest to get away from the Mark and he couldn’t make it slow down. Pulling a little at his hair, Dean focused on his breathing, pulling the air in and pushing it out slowly, controlling the flow, but his head felt light and fuzzy and the oxygen he was getting was too little and he couldn’t…

He rested his back against the wall and slid down, his head spinning. He felt like he would fall if he remained standing and couldn’t take the risk of somehow hurting the baby if that happened, so he sat down on the floor and continued to try and push the Mark away, but that seemed to only make it grow louder.

_Your angel is not here to save you now, Dean._

The visions were there again, playing right behind his eyelids, but somehow he knew opening his eyes wouldn’t send them away. Slicing through his family with the damn Blade, tearing through everything that he loved with this disgustingly strong feeling of satisfaction building in his gut. He saw himself destroying everything he loved and feeling a thrill running through his body, flooding his veins because of it.

He wanted to puke.

He was suffocating, the air too thin in his lungs. Even with his eyes firmly closed, blocking out the entire world, he could still feel the room spinning around him. His veins burned with the Mark’s poison, spreading around his entire being, making him as tainted and cursed as the thing itself. He couldn’t—

There was an arm around him and Dean jumped to the side in shock, but it held him firmly in place. He threw his arm against whoever was there with him, hitting whatever was trying to restrain him with his elbow as he attempted to get free, but he got nothing more than a low grunt of pain as a response. That didn’t stop him, though, and he continued to fight against that hold, tried to get away, to break free, because he had to—

“Dean!”

The voice was like an ice bucket being thrown over him and he froze. It had sounded loud and real, actually a sound that had reached his ears and not a voice echoing inside his skull. He opened his eyes and looked to the side, and while he couldn’t see a face, he suddenly realized that the body currently wrapped around him trying to make him stop moving was familiar.

“Cas,” he breathed out, sagging a little into the embrace, “I’m… I mean, I just…” Fuck, how mental must he look right now? He hadn’t meant to wake the angel up, damn it, what was wrong with him?

“It’s okay,” the angel whispered in response, and the hunter felt the words leaving Cas’ mouth as the seraph spoke, his voice rumbling against Dean’s body where the angel's chest was being pressed against his back, warm and solid. A hand caressed Dean’s hair slowly, and the hunter let the feeling ground him, closing his eyes as he leaned into the touch, concentrating on how steady and real it felt. “You don’t have to strong with me, Dean. You don’t have to pretend to be fine.”

Dean wasn’t sure what it was about those words that hit him so hard, but without thinking he was turning in Cas’ hold to bury his face in the angel’s neck, letting his scent calm him down with every breath. He heard himself sniffing but couldn’t be sure if he was crying or not, at least not until he actually felt a tear sliding down his cheek. 

He wanted to blame the hormones, but he knew he couldn’t do that this time.

“This is bad, Cas,” the words left his mouth in a muffled whisper against the side of the angel’s throat, his voice pained and weak, shaking with the effort to speak, but that didn’t stop him, because he had to get this out, “We shouldn’t have gone after Cain. I shouldn’t have killed him. The Mark…” His voice gave out on him then, and he didn’t fight the silence this time.

This was his fault. This was all his own damn fault.

Cas didn’t respond right away. His hold on Dean tightened around the hunter’s body, not saying a single word about the fact that Dean’s tears were probably soaking his shirt right then, apparently not caring about it at all. He was silent for very close to a minute, until finally he calmly said, “It does not matter whether or not we should have confronted Cain or if there was a better route we could have persued. Cain is dead, and that will not be changed. All we can do now is deal with the consequences of that.”

Dean couldn’t find it in himself to respond. He knew the words were true; he'd reached that same conclusion on his own earlier today.

He was just silent after that, not saying anything, letting the presence of Cas ground him, calm down his racing heart, and eventually the Mark retracted. He didn’t talk right away when that happened, though, even as he realized his tears had already dried, still feeling oddly shaky in his own body.

He only spoke again when the silence really started to bother him, and that took a while.

“Did you see anything this time? Or were you just shut out again?”

Dean felt Cas let out a small breath as he shifted a little. The angel’s lips brushed briefly against Dean’s cheek. “I saw… flashes, of Hell, and of...” He swallowed, “Of you losing control.”

Oh, great, Cas knew what was going through his head now. And he had probably figured out the essence of what Dean had seen during his coma by now, too. Well, at least Dean wouldn’t have to actually tell him about what was going on in his head, so that was a relief.

“It used to happen a lot,” he let the words out without thinking, instantly wanting to take them back, because he wasn’t sure if he could talk about this just yet, but his filter just wasn’t working. Cas tensed up a little, but said nothing, and even so Dean still knew that he was silently asking Dean to continue when he seemed to notice the hunter was hesitating. Dean swallowed twice and licked his dry lips once before finally managing to let out, “When I… When you pulled me out of Hell. I… had a lot of flashbacks.”

That had actually been quite a problem in the beginning. At first he had told Sam and Bobby he didn’t remember Hell, that all he could recall had been the Hellhounds and then being topside again, although it had been hard for him to keep that up for as long as he had.

Because the images had followed him, everywhere he went, every moment of every single day. They would replay before his eyes, and sometimes even after he’d snapped out of a trance, he could still hear the screams ringing in his ears, shivering at the phantom feeling of a knife running over his skin.

He’d broken in the end and told Sam about what had happened down there, but he’d never told his brother everything, not about the flashbacks or the nightmares that had haunted him for months after coming back to Earth, although he was pretty sure Sam must have noticed something had been wrong with him.

They’d never talked about it, though.

And Dean had been sure he’d gotten over it, because fuck, it had been what, six years since he'd gotten out? Even more than that. But now he wasn’t so sure. He realized now that maybe the flashbacks had only stopped because he hadn’t been thinking about Hell anymore. It had actually been a while since the last time, and although there was still the eventual nightmare that sometimes slid into his sleeping mind, it had never been like this back then; nothing had ever been so vivid and almost fucking real.

Until now.

He felt like he had just crawled out of his grave again, lost and confused as to how he was breathing and unsure what to do with himself.

“I know,” Cas’ voice was oddly calm, “You would have nightmares, too, every night. Sometimes you would scream and thrash around in your bed so much that Sam had to leave the room.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead at that, and he wasn’t quite sure what he should focus his surprise on. He had assumed Sam must have known about his nightmares, but he hadn’t thought it had been so bad. His brother had never said anything, and now Dean was wondering why he hadn’t done it. Sam wasn’t the one to just let that kind of stuff go.

But what really struck a chord was the fact that Cas knew about all that, because back then he and Cas hadn’t exactly been on friendly terms just yet. Had Cas had the habit of watching him sleep back then or something?

“You were my charge back then, Dean, since the moment I raised you from Hell. I was assigned to watch over you, to make sure you were safe. Although…” Dean heard him swallow again, and then another light, tender kiss was being pressed to the side of Dean’s head, “Heaven… pulled me from some of my duties after some time, as you already know.”

Right, Dean remembed Uriel saying that Cas liked him, and then Cas himself saying that Heaven had reprimanded him for… what was it? ‘Getting too close to the humans in his charge’, wasn’t it? Yeah, Dean was pretty sure that was it.

“Sometimes I would stop your nightmares,” Cas continued, “I did not understand why it bothered me so much at the time.” Okay, that was new. Dean actually allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips at those words, at knowing that even back then, Cas had actually cared. He'd always been different. “Although I believe that must have been one of the reasons why Heaven realized I had begun to express emotion.”

“You never told me that,” Dean commented, feeling his chest a little warmer.

Cas’ shoulders rose a little in what Dean assumed had been supposed to be shrug, but that came out a little too awkward to pass as one. It had been a valid attempt, though, and once more Dean was struck with just how much Cas had changed over the past few years, how much more human he was beginning to act, especially lately, with the soul bond and all.

And his fading Grace, but Dean didn’t want to think about that right now.

“It never seemed of import,” the angel replied calmly.

Unsure of how to reply, Dean just nodded, letting a breath escape his lips as he settled even more against Cas. He felt some of the tension melting from his muscles, but he didn’t feel like moving just yet.

The silence between was still heavy, though. Dean wasn’t sure if he was just that good at reading the angel or if he was picking up on something from the bond, but he could pretty much feel Cas’ worry emanating from the angel. It couldn’t be more obvious what was on the seraph's mind, and it made Dean uneasy, because once more, he knew this was his fault.

“They’ll stop, Cas. I already went through this once.” Only then did he turn his head to look up at Cas, but the expression he found on the angel’s face did not look at all soothed. In fact, he actually looked even more troubled than before, so much so that Dean instantly wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

“It took you months to recover from Hell, Dean, and you were not bearing the Mark of Cain back then,” was all Cas said in response.

Silence took over once more, and yet again a cloud of tension took over the room around them, like it hadn’t left at all. Cas’ words left a sour taste in Dean's mouth, a wrong note ringing in his ears, and he could not quite manage to shake that feeling off.

Not even when more time passed in silence and eventually Cas insisted that Dean needed to rest now. Not even when they were back in their room after making a quick stop in the kitchen to get Dean his water (and he had brought another full glass with him, just in case, leaving it on the nightstand). Not even after they were lying on the bed again and he was once more tucked against the angel, one of Cas’ arms wrapped around his middle as the angel used the hand from the other arm to run his fingers through the hunter’s hair. Dean closed his eyes at the feeling, because he had found out he actually loved it when the angel did that, and Cas must have picked up on it, because he always did it.

But even then, the tension did not leave his muscles. How long would this go on for? He and Cas were completely exhausted, so this whole thing could not go on for months, not even for weeks; they couldn't afford that right now. He tried to push those thoughts away, but he found that he couldn't quite relax, not when he kept remembering that if he slept, he might go back to that nightmare, and it terrified him to not know if he would be able to come back from it like he had today. The possibility that he might go back to that coma or whatever it had been that he had slipped into again constantly hovered over his head. He knew Cas was also thinking about it, but neither of them commented on it, as if voicing that fear might actually make it happen.

But as much as he wanted to stay awake, he was tired and his eyelids felt heavy, and there wasn’t much use for him to fight sleep when it came, silent and quick, and he gave in without a fight.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam was still worried about Dean. He was relieved his brother was awake, of course he was, because that was already so much progress from the state his brother had been in merely a day ago, but something told Sam that just being conscious again didn’t exactly fix whatever had happened to Dean after Cain. There was still something wrong with him, but Sam knew that just asking Dean about it over the phone wouldn’t make a difference. His brother didn’t open up that easily, and spooking Dean was just too simple, especially when his brother had the power to stop the conversation just by ending the call. He'd have to wait for now, at least until he could talk to Dean in person. He could only hope Cas would have more luck with getting Dean to talk than Sam had managed over the phone.

His worry made Sam want to return to the Bunker. He wanted to check on Dean, and also he and Charlie had been on the road for quite a while now, but he knew they couldn’t do that just yet. The last thing they needed was to take the Stynes right to where Dean and Cas were. All Sam could do right now was continue working on the Book while hoping that Cas would be able to take care of Dean on his own; that whatever it was that was going on with his brother, the angel could fix it, or at least help, while finally actually caring a little more about his own health too.

That was really all Sam could do right now—hope and wait.

Well, that and try to translate the Book of the Damned, but that one task was proving itself to be almost impossible. He and Charlie were making absolutely no progress every day, and even Cas had said he had no idea what language the Book was even written in, so honestly, Sam was starting to doubt they would be able to manage this at all. The odds were definitely not in their favor on this one.

“Morning.”

Looking up, Sam spotted Charlie walking into the living room, hair still a little rumpled from sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, “I made coffee.”

Charlie went straight for the kitchen, and Sam looked back down at his book while he heard her moving stuff around there. She came back out to the living room quickly, though, taking her usual seat across from him on the table so they could continue to work on the Book, two mugs of coffee clasped in her hands.

"Thanks," He smiled at her as he took the mug she offered him, lifting it to his mouth as soon as he was holding it. It was already his third mug today, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He really needed the caffeine.

“You’re up early today,” she commented, sipping from her own mug carefully, eyeing him with attention, as if measuring his reaction. She could tell something was wrong already; Sam knew she could. She was very observant; he'd not realized just how much until very recently.

“Dean woke up. He called last night,” he said, and a look of surprise flooded the girl’s features, “It was pretty late, and I just couldn’t sleep afterwards.”

Charlie looked like she wanted to complain, but she seemed to change her mind about it fairly quickly. Apparently she had finally realized that trying to put some sense into Sam’s head about his health in any way would have no results, not while Dean’s life was at risk. He just wouldn’t put himself before his brother like that.

“How is he?” she asked instead.

Sam shook his head, remembering how Dean had sounded on the phone; how his brother's voice had been edgy and almost nervous, and then how he'd just stopped talking, like he had simply spaced out, and it had seemed like Dean hadn't even been able to hear Sam talk at all for a while. His brother wasn’t fine, not by a long shot, and even if Sam still had no idea what exactly had happened inside Dean's head while he had been trapped in there by the Mark, he could already tell it had gotten to Dean badly. And honestly, that thought was a little bit terrifying.

Again, he could only hope Cas could take care of Dean now.

“Not good. But at least he’s awake.”

Charlie nodded, and didn’t push for more.

For a minute, Sam looked back down at his book as Charlie started up her laptop to begin working herself. His mind wasn’t quite focusing on the text before him, though, not actually registering any of the words dancing before his eyes. His conversation with Dean on the phone and his growing worry for his brother’s well-being had sent his mind back to the night he’d left the Bunker, when Cas had told him there was something going on that he didn’t know, and of course he couldn't help but wonder if whatever that was could be dangerous to Dean now that his brother was conscious and apparently very vulnerable mentally and Cas himself was probably too weak to keep him totally safe.

Sam hadn’t thought too much about that until now, but he guessed that had happened mostly because there had been nothing he could have done about it with Dean unconscious. There had been no point for his mind to focus on something he could do absolutely nothing about. But now his brother was awake again and suddenly Sam wanted to ask him about that necklace. Maybe not right now, when Dean still seemed to be struggling, but soon, he decided.

Still holding onto that thought, he imagined it would be harmless to ask Charlie about it. Cas had said Charlie didn't know what he and Dean were hiding, but maybe she had noticed something Sam hadn't? A hint he had not been observant enough to catch? “Hey, did you notice anything weird lately?” Charlie looked up at the sound of Sam’s voice, frowning a little in confusion, “With Dean and Cas, I mean.”

Her frown intensified a little. “No…” She considered Sam for a moment, and her confusion did not fade. “Why?”

Sam shook his head a little. “Just… something I noticed. I mean, Dean’s been wearing this weird necklace with Enochian engravings on it, but I couldn’t translate them. It's a very ancient dialect, apparently. I asked Cas about it and he said it was for protection, but he wouldn't tell me why Dean was wearing it. He actually told me there was something they weren’t telling me that Gabriel and Crowley know, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was because he promised Dean he wouldn’t.”

Charlie considered his words for a moment, leaning away from her computer and back against her chair. “Crowley did seem pretty weird when he stopped by. But, you know, I just thought it was because he knew Dean and Cas were together.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam nodded lightly, “But apparently there’s more.” Even Sam could hear the bitterness in his own voice as he said it, but he was pretty sure he was entitled.

Charlie let out a breath at that, her eyes almost sympathetic. “Sam, you know Dean. He’s terrible at, well, actually talking about things.” Sam let out a low, agreeing huff at that, because yeah, understatement of the century. “But he’ll open up eventually. He actually came around and told you about Cas, didn’t he?”

He had, but it had taken him years to do that. Instead of pointing that out, however, Sam just nodded in response, swallowing the words. If Dean hadn't told him about whatever this secret was, then he must have a reason for that, so Sam couldn't just force his brother to tell him. It still really bothered Sam, though, but honestly, how could it not?

“He’ll tell you when he’s ready, whatever it is.”

Sam let out a  defeated sigh, but couldn’t find it in himself to agree out loud, so he just nodded. He still wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway.

An hour passed in silence, and for some reason Sam was growing even more bothered as time passed. He still couldn't read his book properly, instead just throwing a few curious glances in Charlie's direction every few minutes as another thought crossed his mind over and over again and didn't seem willing to leave him alone. He’d been so worried about Dean being out that he hadn’t considered doing this before, but now he realized he really wanted to bring up the list of names Cas had mentioned to him while he had still been back at the Bunker, and now would be the perfect chance for that.

Everyone around him seemed to be keeping secrets and it was really starting to bother him. His frustration with all the secrecy was growing more intense every day, it seemed. He had never really enjoyed being left in the dark.

“Charlie,” he started, and the girl turned her attentive eyes to meet Sam’s yet again, a silent question clear in her gaze. Sam still hesitated, turning the words that already hung on the tip of his tongue around in his head once more until finally he was happy he'd found the right way to say them out loud, “Do you know a Russell Wellington, by any chance?”

The moment the name was out of his lips Charlie tensed up entirely, her shock clear in her features for a beat, but she hid it away pretty quickly. She swallowed, shifting on her chair, clearly uncomfortable as she glanced briefly at her computer screen, almost like she was looking for a response there. It was a very odd sight, such an out of character behavior for Charlie that all Sam could find himself doing was waiting for her to finally say something.

“I—I’ve heard the name before, somewhere, I...” Sam couldn’t help but notice how her voice broke a little as she spoke, a weird, nervous tremble bleeding into her words. She swallowed again, letting out a breath as she finally said, “I thought it might be a lead, but it wasn’t. Why?”

“Cas just mentioned it to me,” Sam said, deciding he would have to let that little detail out. He was pretty sure Cas wouldn’t mind. “I decided to check it out, but I couldn’t find anything on him that was worth any attention. Like, anything at all.”

Charlie swallowed again.

Sam could see she was uncomfortable, and very much so, but that only made him want to insist. He had been intrigued by this, but honestly, his curiosity was spiking even more now, because he wasn’t sure what could get Charlie to act like this, but whatever it was, it had him more than just a little worried.

“Yeah,” she finally let out, “Dead leads, right?” Her smile was forced, voice strained. It all sounded very wrong.

She looked away from him then, and it only bothered Sam even more. There was something very off about this.

“Charlie,” Sam breathed out when he realized the girl wouldn’t say anything else, apparently having proclaimed the subject over, probably in hopes that Sam would just drop this whole conversation altogether and that would be it.

But he wasn’t going to do that.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

Charlie’s eyes were measuring, and Sam simply held her stare in silence, not pushing any more, just trying to convey to her without saying any words that he would be here to listen if she wanted to talk about this. He had gathered this was something she didn’t want to talk about by now, but he really hoped she would change her mind about it and open up.

Finally, after a long moment of silence and staring, she let out a breath, a heavy, tired sigh that Sam hadn’t been expecting to hear coming from her.

“Oz was amazing at first, you know? Everything I had dreamed it would be.” Charlie smiled, an almost dreamy expression taking over her features, like she was actually looking at all the memories, as if they were playing right before her eyes in that moment. “It was all magic and wonderful, and I was just so happy to be there. And Dorothy was awesome.” The smiled faded a little then, and she swallowed, pulling in and then slowly letting out what Sam thought to be a steadying breath. “But then things changed. A lot happened all of a sudden, and then everything was different, and it…  _someone_ made me realize a few things, about who I am and who I was, before, you know… before the night of the accident with my parents.”

Sam swallowed, surprised at the direction the story had taken off in. He hadn’t been expecting to hear any of that at all, but he remained silent, listening carefully.

“I’m sure Cas gave you the other names, too,” There was no apprehension in her voice, so she didn't seem to be upset with Cas, “And I know that to you they all mean nothing. But… for me, they’re…” Her voice broke again, and Sam felt his heart ache in his chest as he realized she looked like she was actually in pain. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought this up after all. “They’re not leads. They don’t have anything to do with the Mark of Cain or Cas’ Grace. They only have to do with me.”

“Charlie…” Sam swallowed, shaking his head at the girl. He fully regretted asking about this now that he knew this was something so personal. He had connected the dots now, because Charlie was originally from Topeka; she'd lived there before the night her parents had been so abruptly taken from her, just like all those people Sam had looked up, so he could only assume this had something to do with the accident.

He didn’t know what Charlie wanted with those people, but he knew he didn’t have the right to ask. He got that now, and he felt horrible for saying anything at all about it as he watched her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I was just… curious. I’m sorry. I thought…” He wasn’t even sure what he could say to make this better.

“I get it,” Charlie nodded weakly, her voice breaking again, “You were worried and I was shady, so really, it’s kind of my fault. I just… I don’t wanna talk about this, not right now. I'm not planning to do anything with those names. I just wanted to know the truth, you know? I’m still not…” Her voice broke yet again, and Sam felt even more terrible.

“Hey,” He reached out, grabbing her hand over the table and squeezing it lightly in what he hoped the girl would understand as a gesture of support and understanding, “It’s fine, Charlie. It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me anything. It’s your business, not mine. I'm really sorry for bringing it up like this. I was wrong.”

She swallowed, nodding once more.

She excused herself to go work in her room a few minutes later, and Sam said nothing, simply nodding silently in response. He felt a heavy weight settle over his heart as he watched her go. Her eyes had been shining still, and he felt terrible because he had been the one to make her feel that way, but he knew he couldn’t take any of it back now.

Apparently all he could do about everything that was happening in his life right now was give people time, simply wait, and in that moment he decided that was what he would be doing from now on.

***~*~*~*~***

**Alastair was laughing over him.**

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, but of course that wasn’t enough to block out that nasty, ugly sound, nor did it distract him from the pain coming from his arms and legs, or from his right eye. There was pretty much no skin left on his limbs now, burned off down to the muscle and then some more by the damn hot metal rod the demon liked so much, and he didn’t have a right eye anymore, thanks to the drill Alastair had jammed into it earlier, but the pain from all that had reached a point where it was number than it should be, like his brain couldn’t fully process it all. If it could, Dean was pretty sure he would have passed out already, but of course he didn’t have that luxury here.

“So tell me, Dean,” the words dragged on Alastair’s tongue, lazy and calm, like two people having a normal conversation, “Was it worth it? Throwing everything away for your father? Giving up your entire life and everything you wanted because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your daddy and tell him what you truly wanted? Seems like dear little Sammy got all the balls in the family.”

Dean swallowed, hating to hear his brother’s name rolling off the demon’s tongue, but yet again he didn’t bite. It just wasn’t worth it. What would arguing with Alastair do for him, really? Every day the demon would taunt him, try to twist everything around into making Dean hate himself even more than he already did, and he succeeded every day. Every day there would be a point where Dean just couldn’t despise himself more, so why make a fool of himself by arguing with the demon when he already knew the end game of it all?

But Dean never said it out loud, of course. No need to give Alastair that satisfaction.

“How does it feel now, Dean? To have done nothing that you truly wanted in your life? Because you know, that’s what got you down here with me in the first place.”

Dean kept his eyes closed, ignoring the demon's words, even if each one of them seemed to make his chest heavier. He refused to agree with any of that out loud, to let the demon see how much the words were getting under his skin.

“Deep down you know what you truly wanted. You considered staying with that journalist girl, Cassie, when you met her, didn’t you? Just for once you thought about something  _you_  wanted, not what your daddy told you to do. You actually fell for her, and you imagined what it would be like to just stay with her, working the eventual job of course, but still coming back to see her whenever you could. You even convinced yourself it would  _work_.”

Another laugh reached his ears, and Dean flinched at the sound.

“But then you started thinking about your daddy. About how disappointed he would be that you would actually be selfish enough to want to be happy instead of doing what he raised you to do. That you could actually even consider putting some girl you'd just met before the lives of all the people you could save. You thought he would be disappointed, and you couldn’t handle that. You always felt like you had to prove yourself to him, and every year it got worse, because you knew what he thought of you after Georgia, didn't you, Dean? He looked at you differently after that night, and you hated it, so you did everything he told you to do, hoping that some time down the road you would turn out to be a son he could be proud of.”

It was all true, and Dean hated it. John had indeed looked at him differently after the night in Georgia when Dean had pretty much come out to his father without meaning to. He hadn’t actually said he wasn’t straight, true, but just enquiring about how to ask out someone from the same gender was bound to be enough to accomplish that on its own.

The thing was, John had never mentioned that night at all afterwards, unlike what Dean had thought would happen, and somehow that was even worse. Because Dean just had no freaking idea what his father was thinking about him after that, but the disappointment had been clear in his eyes; that one had been pretty easy to see. It was almost like he'd constantly expected Dean to fail after that night, like it had changed the way his father saw him somehow, and apparently John had felt the need to be harsher with Dean to make sure his son wouldn't disappoint him again.

So Dean had spent the next 14 years of his life doing everything he could to prove his father wrong, and that had included shoving any attraction he would feel towards men to the back of his mind, because he had been terrified that John might find out about it somehow and that would have basically destroyed everything Dean had worked so hard for until then. He had felt the need to prove himself to his father constantly, and he was pretty sure he had managed it.

But that, as ironic as that might be, had included Dean leaving Cassie, because quitting hunting and settling down with a girl was also not what John had expected of Dean. John had wanted Dean to be a good hunter, had done everything he could to make sure of that, and that was what Dean had believed he had to do to make his father proud of him again.

“And then came Lisa. And you actually tried to stay with that one, but just like everything in your life, that also crumbled, didn’t it, Dean?”

The name sounded wrong to his ears, because Alastair shouldn’t know about that, should he? Dean himself wasn’t sure how he had memories flooding his brain right then; couldn’t explain how he could remember something so completely out of reach and that hadn’t happened even yet, or rather, that could never happened at all, because he was dead and in Hell, and he wasn't getting out. It just didn't make any sense at all, but his mind was too muddled and he couldn’t figure it out.

“You actually loved her and that bratty son of hers, didn't you? You actually tried to live with them and be a  _family._  Even considered the boy to be your  _son._ "Mockery flooded the demon's voice as he said the last part, "You weren’t happy with your life, though, were you, Dean? Because deep down you knew that relationship was doomed from the start. Just like every single time you tried to have something for yourself.”

Dean swallowed, but once more didn’t respond. He was just waiting for the pain to come at this point, because the demon usually didn’t talk this much, so Dean was probably gonna be hurting pretty soon. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Just like deep down you know that this thing you have with… Castiel, is it? That poor excuse of an angel. Whatever that is, it’s not going to last.”

This was wrong. There was something wrong about this and Dean didn’t know what it was. He knew what Alastair was talking about, his brain was processing everything as if they were actual facts, as if the memories those words were bringing to his mind were truly real, but it didn’t make sense to him how this was happening in the first place. How could Alastair know about any of that? How could  _Dean_  know about any of that?

He had no idea, but the images didn't seem to stop coming. Deciding there was no point in fighting whatever it was that happening in his head, he just let the thoughts in.

“Did you really think that would last?” Alastair laughed again, “You’re pitiful, Dean Winchester. Everyone leaves you. Everyone. You're not a hero. You're nothing but a curse on this Earth. You should have learned that by now.”

It was hard not to let the words get to him, because deep down Dean knew he had been scared of that since he and Cas had first gotten together. He didn’t deserve Cas, he was very much aware of that, but being with the angel made him forget about all his fears, as girly and cheesy as that sounded. So he just shoved it away for now, and let himself enjoy what they had while it lasted.

“And this…” Dean jumped a little when he felt something touching his stomach, surprised, and he opened his eyes to look down at the demon, although only his left eye was working. His vision was a little weird, out of focus and blurry, but he was still able to realize that Alastair had a blade in his hand and was letting it run over his skin without cutting, his favorite damn game. “This monster you’re caring. This creature you dare to call your child. What do you expect it to be?” Alastair shook his head, another dark chuckle escaping his lips, “You spent your entire life hunting every monster you came across, and yet you’re growing one of the worst creatures this world has ever seen right in here.” He pressed the blade more strongly against Dean’s stomach, although that was not enough to cut the skin under it, “Hypocrisy, if you ask me.”

Yet again the words hit a chord with Dean, because he was scared of that, of course he was. The fact that nephilims were known to be monsters still weighed heavily in his mind, still made him nervous about what it could mean for his baby. He had been worried about that for a while now, but yet again he pushed those thoughts away, tried not to let them get to him.

It didn’t work too well at first, but it all vanished from his mind when Dean noticed Alastair pressing the blade even more against his stomach, enough to hurt this time.

No.

“Get away from them,” Dean let out through his gritted teeth, and he was surprised by the strength in his voice as he spoke.

The demon stopped, looking surprised, but only for a moment, until he let out a laugh. Clicking his tongue and shaking his head lightly, he pointed the knife at Dean's face. “Now, Dean, that’s just impolite.” He lifted the blade even more then, and his intent was clear as he prepared to lay a blow onto Dean’s stomach, lifting the knife up to his face with the tip pointed downwards at Dean's belly.

“No,” Dean let out, shaking his head, “Anything else. Anything. Just don’t…” He could feel the panic flooding his insides. He had never begged for anything in Hell, never, but this wasn’t about him. This was about his baby, and he wouldn’t let Alastair hurt his tiny ball of light. He struggled against his retrains, but that was useless, and all it truly did was hurt him even more. He ignored the pain, though, because that just  _didn't fucking matter right now._  “Please, don’t.”  _Don’t hurt my baby._

Alastair gave him one last amused look, and then let his hands fall, the blade going straight for Dean’s stomach.

Dean sat up, but the restrains didn’t complain, didn’t stop him from moving or hurt him at all. He was breathing heavily as he moved back and away from that blade, away from Alastair, one arm quickly moving up and wrapping itself around his middle protectively, trying to keep his child from harm.

 **Only he wasn’t in his cell anymore.**  The room around him was dark, the surface under him soft, shifting slightly under his palms, giving a little under his weight. His bed, his mind registered; his bed in his room, in the Bunker. He wasn’t in Hell. He was…

“Dean?”

Dean jumped a little, looking up to find Cas standing by the door, wide blue eyes glued to him, and at the sight, all at once everything finally registered in Dean's mind.

It had been four days since he’d woken up from his coma, and since then the nights had brought them both very little rest. Cas simply refused to sleep for much more than a few hours, constantly fussing over Dean and worrying that he might have another episode, while Dean’s own very few hours of daily rest had always come accompanied by nightmares.

None like this, though. They were always short, and usually Cas woke him up from it pretty quickly once he realized Dean was having one, because the angel would usually be right there when it happened, lying awake beside him. But today Dean hadn’t had many flashbacks during the day and he had been feeling a little more like himself, so once he’d started feeling tired while they had been doing research together in the library, he’d told Cas that he was fine and could go sleep on his own when the angel had insisted to go watch over him.

Cas had been hesitant at first, but had agreed eventually. The angel had been pretty much buried in books then, and Dean felt like since Cas wasn't going to sleep in their room anyway, the angel might as well continue with research in the library. Also, Dean was starting to feel like a freaking baby that needed Cas holding him to go to sleep every night. Maybe he just wanted to prove a point.

But apparently he was a baby, because the first night he was sleeping without Cas since waking up had him having the worst nightmare yet.

“I’m fine,” Dean shook his head, still feeling a little out of it, “Just another nightmare.”

The angel walked over to the bed slowly, almost like he was afraid to spook Dean. He sat down beside the hunter calmly, eyes not leaving the human’s face for even a single second. “I know,” he replied lowly, moving his hand to rest on Dean’s arm, and then his brows furrowed a little and he lifted it even higher, pressing it against the hunter’s chest, “Your heart rate is very high.”

Yeah, well, that normally happened when he had those nightmares. It did seem a little more frantic than normal today, true, but it would slow down eventually. It always did, anyway. “It’s nothing, Cas, just…” He shrugged lightly, the movement coming out feeble and without any confidence, “Woke up too quickly.” He knew it was a weak and poor excuse, but it was all he bring himself to say; all he could come up with right then.

Cas didn’t look convinced or soothed, because of course the angel could see right through Dean’s bullshit, but he fortunately he didn't insist.

Shrugging again, Dean made a move to get up from the bed, deciding he'd laid down enough for the night and that he definitely didn't feel like going back to sleep after that damn nightmare, but Cas laid a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could actually try to stand up, “You need more rest, Dean.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but one quick glance over at the clock on the nightstand told him he had only been lying on this bed for about two hours ago, so yeah, definitely not enough rest. He looked down at that, realizing that his arm was still wrapped around his stomach, and at that Cas moved the hand perched on his shoulder to rest it on his arm as he did it, making his point even more clear.

Well, fuck.

"Cas, I just…”  _I can’t go back there._

“I’ll stay, Dean,” Cas said, his eyes softening a little, “I’m not letting you sleep alone again, not until this is over.”

Dean wanted to argue, but he found that he didn’t have the strength to do it, didn't even want to try if he was being honest. It might hurt his pride a little but honestly, that didn't matter really right now. So he just nodded instead, lying back down and waiting for Cas to do the same to he could snuggle up to the angel’s side.

As he felt Cas' warmth against him, though, body firm, solid and real under his hands, Dean couldn't help but remember Alastair's words from his nightmare, about how what Dean had with Cas wasn't meant to last, that it would crumble just like everything else in his life had. He couldn't find it in himself to deny those words, to deem them false and ignore how very painfully close to a fear Dean so often tried to push away, but that right now just didn't seem willing to leave his mind. He knew he didn't deserve Cas; he had been aware of that for a while now, and that nightmare had reminded Dean of that, shattered the illusion he'd foolishly built around himself and Cas during the past few months. He'd actually convinced himself he would be able to keep this, that he could finally be _happy_ about something, but now his head was filling with doubts that he couldn't quite lock away again. How long would it take for Dean to screw this up? How long would it take for Cas to get tired of him? What exactly would that mean to their child?

Dean closed his eyes, trying to focus on the fact that Cas was there with him right now, concentrating on the feeling of the angel's arms around him, of the light caresses the seraph would constantly deliver to him, doing everything he could to try to push those thoughts away for now. This just wasn't the time. He knew he would have to deal with this eventually, but his mind just wasn't clear enough for that right now. His heart was still hammering away inside his chest, and it was really bothering him. His mind also didn’t seem willing to just shut the fuck up about what had happened in the damn nightmare, and he really could use a distraction from all that. He wouldn’t be able to fall asleep like this.

“Did you…” Dean swallowed, hating how weak his voice sounded, “Did you find anything?” He wasn’t even sure what Cas had been researching ealier, but he just needed to talk about something; get his mind off of freaking Hell.

Cas swallowed, taking a beat to reply, “No.”

Dean didn’t know why the fuck he’d been hopeful for a different answer, because really, why would it have been different today? They’d been trying to solve the Mark and Cas’ Grace for way too long now and so far nothing had worked, so why the hell would they suddenly be able to find a way to read that damn Book or track down Cas’ Grace?

He’d been buried in research since he’d woken up, now more intent than ever on getting this damn thing off his arm, but of course that wasn’t working so well for him. Sam and Charlie were also trying to translate the Book, but so far they had nothing, and Dean couldn’t just sit around and wait, even though that seemed to be exactly what everyone wanted him to do, especially Cas.

But he wasn’t having it, so he’d decided to do the only thing he could do about all his problems, although he was growing more and more frustrated as he read book after book and finding nothing more than a vague, useless mention of the Mark here and there. He might even be going through the same books his brother had already read a hundred times before.

But maybe he would see something Sam hadn’t, have an idea that hadn’t occurred to his brother.

Yeah, right.

Research was proving itself to be pointless at this point, but what else could they do, really?

“How long do we have?” The question was forced out of his mouth, heavy and sour on his tongue, but he knew he had to ask it. Their situation had been bad before, but now it had to be worse. Gabriel had mentioned how at some point Cas’ Grace wouldn’t be able to protect the baby anymore, and Dean had to know how close they were to that point now that Cas had spent way too much of his power to fight the Mark and sustain Dean and the baby through his freaking coma.

Cas tensed, and didn’t answer right away, which by itself was already a very bad sign. Dean still waited in silence, but with every second that passed the weight over his heart got heavier and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Fuck, this was really bad, wasn't it?

“Less than what I would like,” was Cas’ answer, and even as impossible as that was, his voice sounded even lower than normal.

“Cas, really,” Dean insisted, “How bad is it?”

Cas still hesitated, but Dean lifted his head to look at the angel in the eye, hoping it would coax him to speak. The actual sadness in the angel's gaze made a lump form in Dean's throat, nausea coiling in his gut. Cas let out a breath, shaking his head, “I still have enough Grace, Dean. The baby is not in danger in the moment, and neither are we. You would feel it otherwise, I promise you.”

Dean wasn't convinced, but Cas’ gaze was unwavering and the hunter had no choice but to nod tightly in acceptance, lowering his head back against the angel’s chest, even if just dropping the subject was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He told himself Cas wouldn't hide anything actually dangerous from him and decided to push those thoughts away for now. So instead of just pushing it he just concentrated on breathing in Cas’ scent for a while, in and out, but his mind was quickly going back to the nightmare and he knew silence was the last thing he needed right now.

And as he tried to think of something to talk about, he remembered Amara.

Dean hadn't even remembered her at first, after he’d woken up, because honestly, meeting her was still a fuzzy, distant memory to him. But now that he had remembered, he had to admit that he was a little intrigued about where the whole thing had come from. He’d tried looking up the name, but there was nothing about any relevant Amara anywhere, so he’d given up on it for now.

So he hadn’t told Cas about her, because really, what was the point? True, the whole thing with that creepy woman had been a bit unsettling and had given Dean this weird vibe, but he was pretty sure it was just some illusion the Mark had created to play with his mind, so why make Cas worry even more than he already was about this? It just wasn’t worth it.

Pushing that train of thought aside, Dean continued to try to find something to fill the silence with and to distract his mind, and as he noticed Cas’ hand sliding to rest over his stomach, he remembered something he had been thinking about back at the barn in Ohio, when he'd been watching fake-Austin play around, but that he had forgotten to talk to Cas about until now.

“Cas, can you see the baby’s gender?”

The thumb on the hand resting against his belly moved, delivering a light caress to his skin. “I have not attempted to. It would be difficult to see it now, as the baby's body is not formed enough for it. I could look into their DNA, if you wish to know.”

It took only a brief moment for Dean to decide, and then he shook his head. “No, I just… I just wanted to see if you knew if it’s a boy or a girl, you know, when you look at the baby.”

“I don’t. I can see their soul, but since souls are genderless, I can’t tell at the moment.”

“Wait, what?” Dean lifted himself a little at that, frowning at Cas, “Souls don’t have genders?” That seemed a little weird.

“Souls are basically energy, Dean, the very essence of a being, but between the actual structure of souls there’s no true difference. They’re all the same. The only thing that dictates any differences between male and females are their bodies, and that affects the image of the soul when it manifests in Heaven, but that only happens because souls tend to hold onto the image of their living, human selves and their bodies. However, a soul itself does not have a specific gender.”

Okay, that was new, but it kind of made sense now that Dean really thought about it. “Does that mean that angels don’t have that either? I mean, you guys don’t have your own bodies.”

Cas nodded lightly. “We do not have specific genders either. Our kind was created long before genders even existed. Although we can identify more with a certain gender, we can occupy both female and male vessels without difference.”

Yeah, Dean remembered Raphael wearing a woman’s body after they’d destroyed the male one from before. Or how Cas had used Claire as a vessel instead of Jimmy for a little while.

Dean couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Cas had taken a female vessel instead, from the start. Maybe he would have gotten his head out of his ass sooner when it came to Cas.

It felt weird to think about it, though, because Dean just couldn’t see it. Every time he thought of Cas, the angel was wearing Jimmy, and Dean really couldn’t see it otherwise; couldn’t imagine Cas any other way. It wasn’t the same in his head and he was just glad that Cas had kept Jimmy’s vessel until now.

Something about the way Cas was looking at him told Dean that the angel had caught something from all that, and he smiled sheepishly. “Well, I’m glad you stuck with Jimmy. I… I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Fuck that was cheesy, and girly. The hormones, he decided.

Yeah.

Cas smiled at him, that cute little smile Dean never got tired of seeing. He smiled back, not resisting the urge to just lean in and plant a kiss on Cas’ lips, letting their mouth slide against each other for a beat, just lazy and calm, soothing. He felt a sigh against his mouth, and then a hand caressing his cheek, the touch so light and gentle it was barely there.

The kiss remained completely tame, though, just as it had seemed to be the case for them during the past few days. They were both exhausted, barely sleeping, and Dean’s libido was startling low as of late, probably because every time he as much as thought about sex the damn Mark would flare up and he would get all shaky again. He still felt weird in his own body and something told him pushing it wouldn’t be a good idea, and he assumed Cas understood even if they hadn’t talked about this, because at some point the angel was the one to pull away before either of them got too excited, lifting his head to plant a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

Dean sighed and lowered himself back against the angel at that, nuzzling his nose into Cas' throat and placing a few light kisses there, feeling the hand still resting against his head move and start to pet his hair a again running slowly through the short strands. The bond was humming and it made Dean feel sleepy again, but the Mark was still burning so Dean didn’t really feel like sleeping again just yet.

He wondered if Cas could sense that, as he kept the conversation going, “I’ve gotten used to Jimmy’s body. I… consider it to be my own body now. I’m the only one in here, and it feels… different than it had at first, more like myself. I wouldn’t wish to change vessels either.”

“Well, good,” Dean smiled a little, running his hand lightly over Cas' chest, “Because I like this body.”

He felt the chuckle that escaped Cas, the low rumble that came from deep within his chest as the angel’s arm that still hung around the hunter tightened a little. “Well, that is good, considering I might not be able to leave it if you thought otherwise.”

“What?” Dean frowned, confused. Not that Dean wanted him to change vessels, of course not, but he wasn't aware of this. “Why? Because of your Grace?”

“No,” Cas shook his head a little, “I could still leave my vessel when you asked me to possess Sam, when Gadreel had been inside his body. I was prepared to leave my vessel in that moment, even without having Sam’s consent, even after Crowley had already possessed him, in case Sam regained consciousness and my help was needed. I could leave my body back then, I could feel it, even if back then already my Grace wasn’t truly mine. But now there’s… restriction, when I try to leave this body, like something keeping me in. I only realized it recently, when Charlie and I were visiting one of the first towns in her list. I imagined if it would not be easier for me to seek out the angel Grace without a vessel, because it would be faster. However I soon noticed I couldn’t leave my vessel. I believe it happened after we bonded.”

Dean wasn’t sure why it surprised him so much, but it did. He leaned back and away from Cas, but the angel didn’t seem sad or worried about what he'd just told Dean; he looked as calm as he had been before, but then again, he’d known about this for a while.

“Doesn’t that bother you, though?” Dean asked, “I mean, that you’re… stuck now, even if you want to leave?”

“No.” There no hesitancy in the angel’s voice as he said it, no wavering in his voice. “I don’t feel… stuck, as you call it. This is my body now, Dean. I don’t want to change vessels. Do you feel stuck in your body, as you also cannot leave it?”

Dean opened his mouth to argue that Cas had been able to jump bodies his entire life so it was different, but he closed it a moment later, realizing that maybe this wasn’t the point Dean should be focusing on. He didn’t want Cas to leave Jimmy’s body anyway, and really, there was something else Dean realized right then that might deserve their attention more than that.

“The bond is really making you more human, isn’t it?”

Cas paused for a moment before nodding, but he didn’t sound bothered or unhappy to agree with that. “Yes, that seems to be an effect of the soul bond.”

“But... doesn’t that mean that the bond should be making me more… angel?” Honestly, the thought of it was a little scary, and he wasn’t sure what to feel about it. He didn’t even know what it could mean for him. “I mean, I know you said some things might change in me because of the bond, but that your Grace is too weak for that right now. But…”

Cas actually stopped to think on that one, and for some reason it made Dean a little uneasy. “I imagine that when we find my original Grace, the rest of the changes will be able to manifest. I’m not sure, however, what those changes will be exactly. I have been developing human traits, as those do not depend on how weak my Grace is, so I would assume you would, by consequence, develop angelic traits.”

Well, wasn’t that awesome.

“What kind of traits, though?” Because really, what the hell could the bond change in Dean? He knew he was supposed to heal quickly and not age and all that, but what else could change in him? “I’m not going to sprout wings, am I?”

The pause that followed wasn’t promising at all.

“Wait, seriously?” Cas had to be joking, right? That was just ridiculous.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas shook his head lightly, “It is unlikely, but I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“You’re kidding me,” Dean breathed out, gauging the angel’s reaction, but he sure as hell didn’t look like he was joking, “You’re  _not_  joking.”

“It probably won’t happen, Dean. Honestly, I truly doubt it would, because it's very improbable. Still, we cannot completely rule it out, because again, a bond like ours has never happened before, so we can’t know for sure. But… I do think it’s very unlikely.”

Dean couldn’t do more than just nod in response to that, still a little stunned. Cas had said the way they had bonded and conceived should have been impossible, so 'unlikely' was really not a term that soothed Dean at all, but he tried to push the those thoughts away for now, no mattered how bothered he was about all that or how much he wanted to ask more. No need to keep worrying about it right now, when they didn't even know if something like that could happen at all. He couldn’t really bring himself to process that, so he decided to go back to some sort of safe territory.

“You said…” Dean swallowed, shifting a little against Cas, “You said you can’t see the baby’s gender now, but you will be able to at some point, right? Later on, I mean.”

Cas didn’t comment on the change of subject, thankfully. “Yes, I believe I would be able to see it easily at some point. Do you wish to know if I do it?”

Dean swallowed, but for some reason it didn’t take him more than a beat for the answer to jump to his tongue. “No,” he said, shaking his head a little, “Actually, I don’t think I want to. I mean, I just… I don’t really mind either, you know?"  _I just want them to be born,_ were the words he didn't say out loud, but that he knew Cas had heard either way.

Cas smiled at him once more, and there was this warmth in his eyes that Dean really wished to see more often. “I don’t have a preference, either.” His hand traveled down to Dean’s stomach, where it paused once more, “I just want them to be healthy.”

Dean nodded lightly, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“However, there is a higher chance of a boy.”

“Why?” Dean frowned, confused. That didn’t seem right.

“Because of our genetic codes, or yours and Jimmy’s. Half of the baby's genetic code comes from my vessel, since I don’t have my own DNA, or at least I didn’t before. I basically claimed Jimmy’s my own.”

Honestly, Dean hadn't thought about it until then, but it made sense that the baby would get the genes from Cas' vessel. Briefly, Dean wondered if the fact that Cas couldn't leave his body now had anything to do with that.

Still, Dean didn't get how that changed the odds of the baby's gender. “Okay, that doesn’t help much.”

“Men have one X chromosome and one Y chromosome, while women have two X chromosomes." Yeah, Dean remembered that from High School, as surprising as that might be. "For human conception, the cross of chromosomes results in a 50% chance of each gender. However, conception does not work the same for nephilims.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Dean wouldn’t be pregnant if it did. He didn’t have any ovules stored anywhere, or at least he didn’t use to, anyway. He hoped he still didn’t, but at this point, he didn’t really know anything for sure anymore.

“Angels and humans can conceive regardless of their genders. We didn’t conceive through spermatozoids and an egg. My Grace and your soul created the baby’s essence, while my Grace created two totipotent cells with half of our genetic codes that once merged formed the zygote. It wouldn’t matter if we were of opposite genders and conception was viable naturally, because this is the only way to ensure the human will be the one carrying.”

Well, it made sense. If Cas was in a female vessel then that would make sure Dean would still be the one carrying. Same thing to them both being male or female. It did make sense, really, and he was glad to know that there had been no ovules present, nor there would be. Also, now it made more sense to Dean that even if he had topped in Omaha, he would still be the one pregnant.

“Okay, but what does that have to do with the baby’s gender?”

“Normally, you would have an egg carrying the X chromosome and a spermatozoid carrying either one X or one Y chromosome, which decides the baby’s gender. However, the way a nephilim’s conception works, you don’t have any restrictions to the chromosomes. For parents of opposite genders you still have 50% for each gender, but for example two females would only be able to have girls.”

Okay, Dean could see that, but he still wasn't sure where exactly Cas was going with all that. “And for us?”

“In our case, we both can provide a cell carrying the Y chromosome or the X chromosome. So we have 25% chance of a girl, 50% of a boy and 25% of getting two Y chromosomes paired up.”

Dean felt his insides freeze at that last part. “Wait, wouldn’t the mean that… the baby would be…” He wasn’t sure how to say it, but he knew it couldn’t be good. There were a lot of syndromes he knew about out there that had to do with chromosomes, right? Of course he’d never heard of what might happen if you had a baby with two Y chromosomes, because of course normally that couldn’t happen, but what if it did? What if...?

“An embryo with two Y chromosomes would not be able to develop. There's no way to form a healthy human body with that combination, so there's no way for a pregnancy to even take place. If that combination happens, then conception cannot even be considered successful, as the result would be something that cannot form a viable living being and most likely ends up discarded. So the fact that you’re pregnant at all means that did not happen. So as a result, we have a 2/3 chance of a boy and 1/3 of a girl.”

“So basically 67% to 33%.”

Cas nodded lightly, “Yes.”

“Well, we can still have either,” Dean noted.

The angel smiled a little, "Indeed." Cas hugged the human a little closer in response, and Dean melted against the angel even more, breathing out a content sigh.

“Still, let’s just keep it a surprise,” Dean decided, which got him a nod from Cas in response, plus a gentle kiss to the side of his head.

That topic had Dean's mind wandering toward the baby being born, and of course the next question that left his mouth was, "Will I need a C-section?" The thought of it was a little terrifying, to be honest. He had tried not to think too much about the topic until then, but right now he found that couldn't quite push the thought away. Gabriel's vague words back in Absarokee came back to him but they were of no help to him at all. "Because I don't have, you know... a way for the baby to come out."

"No," Cas shook his head lightly, "My Grace will adjust your body when the time comes, so you will be able to deliver naturally."

Well, that didn't sound fun at all. "Adjust? Like, what exactly...?" He couldn't even get the words out.

Cas' voice was way too calm for Dean's liking as he explained, "My Grace will provide a birthing channel and everything else required to birth the nephilim."

Dean tried not to shudder at the thought of it. True, it was good to know he wouldn't have to be cut open or anything, but fuck if the alternative scenario wasn't also mildly terrifying. But instead of pointing that out, he decided to ask, "And after?" For some reason, it bothered him a little to imagine the changes sticking around after the baby was born.

"Your body will most likely regenerate and return to its previous state after the labor, Dean. I believe all changes made to accomodate the baby will be reverted back once you've given birth."

"But you don't know for sure," the hunter couldn't help but point out.

The angel shook his head lightly, giving the hunter a soft, almost amused look. Dean huffed a little at it. "No human has ever birthed a nephilim and survived, Dean, so I'm not sure I can give you certainty on this. But I do believe that's what will happen."

Dean knew there was nothing else Cas could say to him that would soothe his mind, so he just nodded, settling against the angel once more and deciding it was really best to just drop the subject for now. He was already feeling nervous about the actual birth, random yet very vivid flashes from all the movie scenes he'd seen in his life of women in labor deciding to make an appearance right then just to make him feel even more terrified, but he pushed it all away. He really didn't need that right now.

Nuzzling even deeper into Cas’ throat, Dean let out another sigh, trying to will his mind to shut up, and as the minutes slowly ticked by, he started feeling even more sleepy than before. He felt a lot better now, even after that last conversation subject. The cold, dark tendrils of the Mark's hold in his mind had retracted and didn't seem about to try anything too soon, so he finally let himself relax, and it really wasn’t a surprise that not long after that he was already drifting off, feeling safe knowing that Cas was there with him and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him while he was sleeping.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean was not getting better.

Castiel could easily tell, although the hunter seemed to be doing everything in his power to show it as little as possible, to be as subtle about his black outs as he could, which seemed to be happening a lot more often than Castiel would have been comfortable with. They were becoming rarer, that was true, but Dean was still having them quite often, and that single fact alone was very worrying.

Their current situation reminded Castiel of six years ago, after he’d rescued Dean from Hell, of how the human would have nightmares every single night without exception, how the images of all those years of torture and pain, of suffering under the hands of Alastair, had kept replaying far too often in the hunter's subconscious, and sometimes even during his waking hours. It had taken Dean so long to be able to overcome them, and honestly, Castiel believed he had never fully recovered. Instead he had pushed the memories away and not looked at them since, but the angel knew Dean had never been the same after Hell, even if he had not actually known the hunter before that.

Castiel had helped as much as he could back then, but he no longer had the same power. His Grace wasn’t as strong as it had been in the past, could not do as much as it had been able to years ago. And this was an entirely different situation, anyway, as the source of Dean’s struggle ran so much deeper than simply his own memories constantly plaguing his mind, because the Mark was the one causing the flashbacks, the nightmares, the illusions; everything, and Castiel did not have even close to enough power to fight it now.

It truly pained Castiel that he was too weak to rid Dean of his pain, to cleanse his mind of any thoughts that were causing the hunter any suffering, but the truth was that there was very little the seraph could do to fix the situation this time. Things were not as simple as they had been six years ago.

The Mark was constantly fighting him. It struggled against the connection to Castiel’s Grace on a daily basis, clawing at it angrily, like a rabid animal, caged and fuming at the mouth, angrier than Castiel had ever felt it. It had more energy now, more power, and Castiel’s mind was plagued with fear as he felt his Grace burn out even faster than it had used to before Cain, felt his power diminishing with every single day that passed at a startling rate. The energy coming from Dean’s soul was barely allowing his Grace to heal at this point.

Everything tired him, and yet he could not allow himself to sleep as much as his body demanded from him, because his nights were spent simply lying awake in bed, holding Dean in his arms and making sure the Mark would not take advantage of the human’s unconsciousness to try and take over again, to pull the hunter into yet another trance, trap him inside his own mind under a barrier that maybe Castiel would not have the power to break through this time.

He would also constantly check the baby’s health, making sure it was getting every ounce of power it needed from his Grace and Dean’s soul, and that seemed to be the only way to somewhat ease Castiel's mind—realizing that the nephilim was perfectly healthy and still completely unaffected by the Mark’s influence. His Grace seemed to be making it its top priority to keep the baby safe, and for that Castiel was extremely thankful.

He knew, however, that this situation could not last much longer.

They had been supposed to have months—until the beginning of November, Gabriel had said, Dean’s 40th week into the pregnancy. They had been supposed to have more time, but obviously they had not been able to foresee what had happened with Cain in Ohio, and now Castiel did not believe they had much more than a few weeks before this became dangerous for their child, and for themselves. Killing Cain had taken a tow on Castiel’s Grace the angel had not been able to expect, and the Mark had lashed out much more strongly than he had imagined it would.

And it filled Castiel with dread, with such a strong sense of panic he had never felt before, pure and intense fear filling his insides through every second of every day as Gabriel's words constantly echoed in his mind, reminding him of just how much more complicated their situation truly was than what he'd previously been led to believe.

He had not told Dean about how little time he believed they had, or how they would need to find his Grace before removing the Mark. He had done his best to hide it all, in fact, even though he knew maybe he shouldn’t. But Dean was dealing with way too much already, and Gabriel’s words about stress would also very often ring inside Castiel’s head, now even more insistently than they ever had. With just how weak he was at the moment, he feared the Mark could take advantage of Dean's stress and trigger an early labor more easily now than ever if he pushed Dean just a tiny bit more, just a tiny bit too much.

So he’d locked it all away inside his own head, doing everything he could not to allow any of his worry to spill into the bond, carefully selecting every single thought and emotion he shared with Dean while doing everything he possibly could as he tried to find a way to track his Grace. It took a lot of self-control from his part to keep so much hidden from Dean, but so far Castiel believed he had been successful in conveying to the hunter an amount of confidence concerning their current situation he did not truly possess.

But it was difficult. Every time he watched Dean’s eyes glaze over while the human’s mind took him back to Hell, every time the hunter’s hand closed over the edge of a table or the sink, his knuckles turning white as Dean felt the need to steady himself, to remind his mind of what was truly solid and real around him; every time Castiel watched his mate close his eyes and take a breath to try and keep himself grounded, it hurt too much, a pang of pain digging into his chest, like a stab to the heart, and it was in those moments that he found his control wavering, felt the panic flooding the bond so strongly he had no means to stop it until it was already too late, and he knew Dean would feel it every time.

Fortunately Dean was not yet aware of the full extent of their current situation.

He planned on telling Dean about the issue with his Grace, of course he did, but only once he'd successfully found a way to track it; when doing that did not seem completely unmanageable, but he'd had absolutely no success with that so far. Without a trace of his original Grace, of anything that could be used to perform a locator spell, finding it seemed like a truly impossible task to be accomplished. The dread of not even knowing for sure if there was  _any_  of his Grace left out there was making itself present in his mind quite often now, the fact that he was hanging on to a thin thread of hope based on the word of someone as untrustworthy as Metatron weighing heavily in his mind, but the alternative was such a terrifying thought that Castiel had no idea how to even cope with it, so he chose to simply ignore it for now. It wasn't the best course of action, he was very much aware of that, but again, the alternatve was not something he was willing to accept.

Sam and Charlie seemed to be having very little success with the Book of the Damned, and that was also not helping Castiel’s situation in any way, because even if he did manage to locate his Grace, the Mark would still be a problem. Even if Castiel’s Grace was fully restored, based on how strong the Mark was, the seraph believed Dean would not be able to carry to term, not with the Mark of Cain still on his arm.

And they were not even close to making progress with the Mark. The angel could hear the disappointment in Sam's voice whenever they spoke on the phone, how the hunter's resolve was already wavering, slowly fading away as they all failed repeatedly in all of their efforts to translate the Book. They still had no idea how to even begin to understand how they could do that. Sam tried to hide it, trying to pull off a much bigger amount of confidence he did not truly possess, but that he so dearly wished to have. Castiel knew what that felt like far too well.

Sam would often ask about Dean. Castiel would tell him more than Dean usually did, because his mate still seemed unwilling to tell Sam and Charlie about the flashbacks, and while Castiel respected that and would refrain from giving the two more details than he should, he did not cover up everything. They deserved to know that Dean was not fine, even though they did not quite know the full extent of their situation, did not know just how much was really at stake here while not being aware of Dean’s pregnancy.

And that was also a subject that had been bothering Castiel quite a lot during the past few days.

Dean was already over 15 weeks along. Castiel knew the hunter needed time to adjust, he truly understood that, because it truly made sense for Dean to wish to wait until he was ready to share something as big and life altering as his pregnancy with anyone else, even his own brother. Castiel honestly had not expected a much different decision from the human once they'd first found out about the nephilim, but Dean's refrain from telling Sam and Charlie was truly bordering on dangerous now. Their child’s life was at stake here, and keeping Sam and Charlie in the dark was only adding to the risk factors. Sam already knew there was something being kept from him, so of course this charade could not stay up for much longer.

He would not bring it up now, however, not with Dean as tense and shut out as he seemed to be, constantly battling demons inside his own head, struggling with the Mark every day. Castiel would give Dean some time to recover before he would even consider touching a subject he knew would stress the hunter in any way, which was something that should be avoided at all costs right now.

So their days in the Bunker passed with a certain monotony to them; a daily repeating pattern that was very rarely broken.

Castiel would not sleep much. He would have nothing more than a few broken down hours of unconsciousness throughout the day that brought him very little rest, as his worry that something might happen to Dean while he was unconscious still plagued his mind very insistently. And the hours of Dean's sleep were very tiring for him, as they were very often spent keeping the Mark at bay and clearing the hunter's mind of nightmares, because his mate needed to rest, for both himself and the baby.

When Dean would wake, Castiel would get up with him, and together they would make breakfast in the kitchen. During the first days after Dean had woken up, there had still been enough food stored in the cabinets and fridge to last them for a few more days, but the prenatal vitamins and ingredients ran out quickly and a visit to Lebanon was clearly in order. However, Castiel did not wish to leave Dean alone in the Bunker and since Sam had taken the Lincoln, the only car they could use was the Impala, so in the end Dean ended up driving them both into town for a supply run. Castiel was not happy about it, but it was the only option they had. He’d spent every moment of the trip worrying and making sure Dean was fine. Thankfully, they’d survived it pretty well and without any incident, and it all seemed worth it in the end once they were back in the Bunker, with Dean taking his vitamins and cooking for them instead of having to eat those dreadful pre-made dinners Castiel had had to endure before. Dean really seemed to despise those, and with good reason.

They’d fallen into a rhythm, more often than not spending their days reading through the books in the Men of Letters' library. Apart from their usual topics of research, however, now that he and Dean were the only ones in the Bunker and there was no risk of him being seen reading something that would inevitably raise unwanted suspicions, whenever Castiel felt like taking a break from the Book of the Damned or his failing search for his Grace, he had also allowed himself to indulge in the few texts he came across about the Nephilim. And although most of the those seemed to be focused solely in how the species had been created through terrible means and were forbidden to this day, he still found himself looking for any information he did not already possess. He wasn't sure how much of it was actually accurate, however, and his guess was that not much.

They had not done anything sexual since Dean had woken up, but Castiel was completely okay with it, because he wasn’t sure if Dean was ready to do anything like that again so soon. The hunter was constantly in battle inside his own head, way too often struggling to distinguish reality from the torments that plagued in his mind, and Castiel did not want to push him; did not wish to do something that Dean wasn't mentally healthy enough to do. Of course, the angel now experienced a certain… need, an urge for sexual intercourse that he was still trying to get used to since he and Dean had mated. It wasn't the same as when he had been human, however; it was like this urge to be as close to Dean as he possibly could when he was with the hunter, a pull towards his mate that his body seemed to often respond to with arousal. But that was in no way relevant at the moment, as those needs came after Dean’s health.

Some days Dean would choose to read by himself in their room, and Castiel quickly understood that meant he just wanted to be alone for a while, as it seemed to happen sometimes, because he never asked Castiel to come along. The angel assumed Dean to be growing bothered by what the hunter liked to call Castiel's habit of 'constantly fussing over him', and the seraph would never insist on joining the hunter whenever that happened, keeping his distance when Dean asked for it. It did not make Castiel happy, but once again he understood, and he was willing to give the space Dean asked of him, as much as it bothered the angel that Dean's first instinct when there was something wrong was to push Castiel away instead of talking about it, but that was just how the hunter operated. He would attempt to lock himself inside his own head and shut everyone else out when there was something bothering him, something that he wasn't sure how to deal with, just as he had been doing throughout his entire life, but Castiel would be lying if he said it didn't hurt him to simply be shut out like that.

However, he knew pushing Dean would only drive the hunter away even more, so he had no other choice but to accept Dean’s choice for distance and respect it.

So Castiel let Dean have his space, gave him as much of it as the hunter needed, while still taking care of him whenever the human allowed. However, letting Dean have some distance did not mean Castiel wasn't worried about him. The incident in which Dean had fallen asleep alone in their room and had woken up in distress after a particularly terrible nightmare still worried the angel greatly, and to make sure that episode would not repeat itself, Castiel had come to pay more attention to whether or not Dean was awake when they were in separate rooms, reading all the signals coming from the soul bond constantly to make sure Dean was fine and that there was nothing wrong with him.

He would not push Dean in any way, would not insist to go with the human when Dean wanted to be alone, and Castiel did not in any way wish to add to the stress the hunter was already suffering from, but the angel would always make sure Dean was fine, even when the hunter was not aware of it. Castiel’s conversation with Gabriel was still very much present in his mind, reminding him of just how thin the thread Dean and the baby were hanging by, of how terribly easy it would be for everything to crumble, and Castiel knew he could not possibly ignore that, even if it did not exactly make Dean happy.

It terrified Castiel to even think about how high the stakes were right now; how easy it would be for him to lose _everything_.

It was on the ninth day after Dean had woken up when Castiel fell asleep in the library while working his research, countless days of very poor rest at last resulting in his body simply shutting down on him without a warning. He could not tell how long he had been asleep for when he suddenly woke up with a jolt in his chair, the pages on the book resting on the table before him sticking to his face for a moment before being torn away, almost ripping in the process as he drew his body into a sitting position so suddenly.

His Grace hurt. That was the first thing he noticed as the cloud of confusion from sleep began to dissipate from his mind, straightening up even more on the chair as his muscles complained, begging for him not to move, but he paid that no mind as he stood up, one single thought clear in his head, because his mind was being overwhelmed by too many emotions at once and while he couldn’t even begin to sort through them, the main message he was getting from the soul bond could not possibly be clearer.

Dean was hurting.

He practically ran out of the library and through the hallways of the Bunker until finally the angel got to their room, but he was confused to find that Dean was not there as he had assumed. Not allowing his confusion to linger in order not to waste even a single second of precious time, however, he probed at the connection once more, trying to ignore all the pain and fear he was receiving so he could sense where Dean was, and he quickly realized that the bond was tugging him in another direction, so Castiel followed it across the hall without pausing for even another beat.

The bathroom was a mess. A few items were scattered around the floor before him, spread over the tiles like they had simply been recklessly thrown there, including their razor blades, the bar soap from the sink, a brush and a tube of toothpaste, but what truly caught the angel's attention was the fact that one of the mirrors over the sinks was broken, and Castiel feared the damage had been done to it by a hand, because he could clearly see blood amongst the pattern in the shattered glass.

But what really startled him was Dean, sitting on the floor, hunched over himself by the farthest wall from the door, head hidden in his hands, blocking his face completely from sight, body shaking and low, pained whines coming from his throat and filling the air.

The sight of him made the angel stop. Castiel probed at the bond calmly once more, but there was a lot coming from Dean in that moment and he wasn’t sure how to understand the several waves spilling from the hunter’s mind into the soul bond, couldn't fully process it all, their combination almost overwhelming the seraph through their mental link as the Mark also screamed inside his head. The strongest emotion he could detect coming from Dean was clearly fear, and that made Castiel’s worry spike.

It was almost disorienting.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, taking a tentative step toward the hunter but choosing not to move any more than that for now without having Dean consenting to it. He didn’t want to spook the human any more than he already was. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

The hunter didn’t look up. He actually gave no sign that he had even heard Castiel speak at all. The angel waited for another moment, simply listening to the pained sounds his mate was letting out. From where Castiel was standing, he could not tell if the hunter was injured in any way or not, but either way each whimper that reached the seraph’s made his heart feel heavier with worry inside his chest.

He needed to do something, now. Whatever the Mark was doing to Dean had to stop.

“Dean?” Yet again he got absolutely not response, and Castiel concluded that all he could do was approach the human as calmly as he could until Dean reacted in any way to his presence.

So he did. One carefully calculated step at a time, he grew closer to Dean, hands raised before his body in case Dean heard him move and finally looked up. Dean’s thoughts were too muddled, too frantic and chaotic, so honestly, Castiel was not sure what exactly the human would see if he glanced up at Castiel, but he had to get to Dean to figure out what was happening.

The angel could not even begin to understand everything that was pooling into his mind through the bond. He couldn't see clear images, just flashes of things he could not entirely recognize or process, but he did make out brief glimpses of flames. Whatever those images were, the only thing Castiel knew for sure was that they were making Dean very agitated, and that had to stop. There was so much fear coming from the hunter that it actually made Castiel’s chest hurt.

When at last he reached Dean, Castiel lowered his body to a crouch, lifting his hand even more but not quite allowing it to touch the human, still concerned about what the hunter’s reaction to it might be. The last thing the angel wished to do right now was stress Dean any further.

“Dean?” he tried yet again, but once more he got no response. Dean’s breathing was heavy, ragged, and he was muttering to himself, but Castiel could not make out the muffled words. “Dean.”

When unsurprisingly he was once again completely ignored, Castiel decided he had no other choice and allowed his hand to fall onto Dean’s shoulder.

The human’s response was immediate. Dean's entire body tensed and he shot up against the wall behind him, not going far as there was barely enough room for him to go in that direction, but his intention had been clear nonetheless. His eyes were wild, and Castiel had to actually pause as he caught sight of them, surprised as he struggled to take in the hunter’s expression; his wide, scared gaze, clouded with so many layers of emotion the angel could not process them all. Something was very wrong, a thought that sent a wave of dread washing over Castiel's insides. He could almost taste the fear in his tongue, potent and sour, and he could not be sure who exactly it was coming from.

“Get away from me,” the words were spit out through gritted teeth, and they would have hurt if the look in Dean’s eyes wasn’t so empty, unfocused, because as he looked at Castiel, the angel knew that wasn’t what his mate was actually seeing.

A hallucination, Castiel realized with a start.

For a moment, Castiel had no idea how to proceed at all. Dean’s visions had never happened like this. They were always either a nightmare or a flashback that would lock Dean inside his own mind momentarily, but never had it been something like this—an actual hallucination that didn’t have Dean lose consciousness, instead playing false images before Dean’s eyes as though they were real, altering reality around him as the Mark pleased.

It terrified Castiel to realize the Mark might be even stronger than he had imagined at the moment. Its power did not seem willing to lessen, not even so long after Dean had killed Cain, not even with how much power Gabriel and Castiel had spent fighting it, and that thought alone was enough to bring despair washing over the seraph yet again.

But he did not allow his mind to dwell on it any further, not at this moment. His immediate concern was to snap Dean out of the illusion playing before his eyes right then, to bring him back before the Mark’s hold on the human's mind grew too strong yet again. The angel could already feel it happening, how pleased the Mark was as it stretched its sick hands over the hunter's consciousness, dug its putrid claws into Dean’s mind, so Castiel knew he had to act fast, and although he knew using his Grace to fight the Mark was the route that made the most sense, he should try not avoid that for now, as he did not have any power to spare.

“Dean, it’s me,” he let out, tentatively moving a bit closer, and Dean all but hissed at him as the angel moved. The human’s eyes were so panicked and raw with rage, it hurt simply to see it, but Castiel firmly reminded himself that those emotions were not truly being directed at him, but at whatever Dean was seeing in his place, whatever monster the Mark had conjured up to torture Dean with this time. “You need to calm down. You’re safe.”

“Get the fuck away. You should be dead. I fucking killed you.” The rage was very much present in the human’s words, clear and intense as it pooled freely into every single syllable, but there was something else in Dean’s voice as well, an odd note that instantly caught the angel’s attention and that him frowning in confusion. Castiel could not know for sure what it was or what it could possible mean, but it was enough to make Dean's voice tremble as he let out a broken, “Haven’t you taken enough from me?”

Castiel still did not know who Dean believed he was talking to, but the raw, hurt anger in his voice was enough for the angel to know this couldn’t be good. Dean’s blood pressure was getting dangerously high and if this continued, the Mark might be able to trigger an early labor.

Castiel was about to attempt to get closer to Dean again when a flash of yellow, empty demonic eyes made it all clear to him. Adding that to the fire he'd seem earlier, the angel shook his head, disgusted at how far the Mark was willing to go to make Dean suffer. Not that using Dean’s years in Hell was any better, of course, but using _this_ specifically made Castiel’s blood boil in anger at the Mark.

But he swallowed the feeling down quickly, pushing it away for now, because the last thing he should do right now was feed the Mark in any way.

“Azazel is dead, Dean,” Castiel hurried to say, shaking his head lightly as he tried to keep his voice as steady, calm and soothing as he could manage, “He’s gone. He’s been dead for over 7 years. It’s me, Castiel.” He had hoped his name would be enough to trigger something in Dean, give him even the shortest moment of clarity, even the briefest second of light finding its way through the darkness that was the hunter’s mind in that moment so he could manage to snap out of the hallucination on his own.

But that was not the case. The hunter shook his head at the seraph’s name, eyes still not quite focused as he stared at the angel, and Castiel caught another glimpse of yellow before Dean was moving, fast as lightening as he threw his arm forward, closed fist cutting through the air.

It hurt. That was the first thing that registered in Castiel's mind as Dean's fist found his nose. Normally it wouldn’t, but Dean was stronger because of the Mark and Castiel was very weak at the moment, so the pain shouldn’t have been as much of a surprise as it was. It reminded him of the delicate state of his Grace, but he had to push that thought away a second later as Dean all but pounced on him.

Castiel had to be careful; that thought was crystal clear in his mind. Just as the weight of Dean’s body hit him, just as it registered in his brain that Dean was actually about to attempt a fight, all the angel could think about was that he had to make sure Dean wouldn’t hurt himself or the baby.

Two more punches were delivered to his face and one to the side of his head before he managed to get a hold of Dean’s arms, and he ignored the pain and the throbbing those blows caused as he spun Dean around, pinning the two limbs against the hunter’s back so he couldn’t move. He tried to be gentle, but Dean was thrashing against him so he’d had no choice but to put some strength into the movement, enough to paralyze Dean in his hold as he wrapped one arm around the human's chest to keep him in place.

“Get your damn hands off of me, you fucker,” Dean spit out, bulking against Castiel, and the angel found it hard to keep the hunter still, his strength much more than what the seraph had expected, but at last the angel managed to successfully keep Dean still in his hold. However, he knew that would not last for long, and he took in a breath, deciding he did not have another option. He knew he it was dangerous and he knew he should not do this, but he still did it, gathering all the energy he could from his Grace and forcing it through the soul bond at once, doing everything he could to try to push the Mark away from Dean's mind.

Dean went still in his arms, and Castiel hoped it wasn’t just from surprise at feeling so much of the angel’s Grace pouring into the bond at once. The Mark hissed and clawed at Castiel, and it hurt to fight it, hurt to resist the urge to pull back and to ignore how his Grace screamed at him that it couldn’t do this, to ignore the pain that flooded even the core of his very being. He was using a lot more of his power than he should and he knew that, but he also knew that he could not simply do nothing.

The Mark retracted a little, cursing at him and promising that this wasn’t over, refusing to completely let go of Dean's consciousness but still loosening it's hold, and slowly Castiel pulled his Grace back, but was ready to use it again if needed, as strong and insistent as the ache he could feel from the strain he’d already put his power through was. It was only then that he realized he could hear his own ragged breathing matching Dean’s now. His heart beat fast and painfully inside his chest, but all he could truly focus on right then was the trembling human in his arms.

“You’re…" Dean croaked out, voice weak and small, almost pained, but Castiel still felt relief flooding his insides at the sound, "You’re not…”

“Shhhh,” Castiel whispered, and even if Dean had stopped thrashing at last, the angel did not let go of him. The hunter was shaking, light tremors running over the muscles in his arms, as if the human was cold, but of course that was not the case here. Dean’s heart was beating too rapidly inside his ribcage and Castiel knew they had to get his heart rate down, but for that to happen, he had to manage to calm Dean down. “Shhhh, Dean, it’s me. It’s me.”

Dean didn’t speak for a while, but Castiel could at last feel the Mark retracting fully, so that had to be a good sign. He still did not allow his hold on Dean to loosen, however; he would not let that happen until he was sure Dean had completely come back to himself and would not begin to thrash again.

It took minutes for Dean to move again, but his heart rate had yet to drop. At least he’d stopped shaking eventually, and his breathing was now slowly returning to normal. At some point the hunter pulled his arm a little without a warning as a silent request, and Castiel slowly weakened his hold around the hunter, but was cautions, paying enough attention to Dean’s movements to try to predict that the human would do next, prepared to hold him still again if necessary.

Fortunately that was not the case. Dean let his arms fall to his sides for a bit once they were free, and then at some point one of his hands hesitantly went up, gripping Castiel’s arm for what the angel understood as support as a breath escaped him. “Cas…” The sound of Dean’s voice was weak and broken, but it was still a relief to hear it, clear of the anger and fear from before.

“I’m here,” Castiel whispered, at last allowing his muscles to relax and turning his head to move closer to the human and plant a kiss to Dean’s head, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Dean let out a huff that Castiel was not sure how to read, before he tried to move in the angel’s hold even more, and Castiel allowed it, watching as the hunter slowly turned in his arms to face him, the movement unsteady, almost like Dean’s balance wasn’t quite working and he feared he might fall if he wasn’t careful or moved too quickly. Upon noticing that, Castiel did not allow his arms to lower back to hang by his sides, leaving them raised and prepared to catch the hunter in case that happened.

Dean’s eyes were still haunted, but not in the same way. They were sad, heavy as they stared at Castiel’s face, as he slowly lifted his hand to rest it against the angel’s cheek. Castiel could see blood on Dean's hand, staining the skin of his fingers, but the angel did not comment on it, deciding it was a subject for later. He caressed the seraph's skin lightly for a second until he slowly moved his fingers to press lightly against Castiel’s nose, and the angel could not hold back a flinch as the pain from it flooded his nerves. It appeared to be broken, he realized now.

The breath that the hunter let out at it sounded broken and shaky, almost like it hurt to be let out. “I hurt you,” he croaked out, shaking his head, “I fucking hurt you. Cas, I—” His voice broke again, and Castiel could see Dean’s eyes glistening. He seemed to actually be struggling to let anything else out, and Castiel could feel the hunter’s guilt flooding the bond.

“You did not mean to, Dean.”

Dean shook his head again, the movement jerky and strained, almost like it hurt to do it. Another shaky breath escaped his lips, almost like a huff, but it was nothing more than a sad, broken sound. “But I did. I tried to… Fuck, Cas, I’m sorry. Is it broken?” He reached out again, his intent to touch the angel's injured nose clear. Castiel held still and resisted the urge to lean away before the hunter could touch his face again, and fortunately Dean’s touch was a lot more careful now. It hurt again, but a lot less and this time the angel managed to keep any signs that might give out the pain he was feeling from showing on his face.

It did feel broken, and at the moment he could not spare the power to heal it, but he would fine. “It is not of import, Dean. You didn’t mean to, and I’ll be fine. It’ll heal.”

Dean did not look comforted or convinced at all, the pain and guilt in his eyes as clear as the emotions still very much present in the soul bond, and Castiel pulled him forward, placing a gentle kiss to the hunter’s lips, even if it wasn’t responded, before gently tugging the human forward. Dean didn’t resist, fortunately, letting himself be settled against the angel, and Castiel felt him letting out another breath as at last Dean let his arms wrap around the angel.

Burying his nose in Dean’s hair, Castiel waited, breathing in and out calmly and hoping Dean would eventually mirror the pattern. Dean’s body was still tense in his arms, but his heart was finally slowing down, so that was progress from before.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” Dean’s voice was muffled against his throat, shaky still, “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t… I was seeing things and I don’t know… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” Castiel whispered in response, moving his hand up to caress Dean’s head, hoping it would soothe the hunter somewhat. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean swallowed, but didn’t comment, instead settling even more into Castiel, and the angel just held him, hoping the physical contact would bring his mate comfort, as it very often seemed to be the case with Dean. It struck Castiel then how many times he’d held Dean like this during the past few days; how many times the hunter had needed comfort from him, and that did not make the angel feel any better or less worried. This was happening too often still, and at the moment it didn’t seem like the Mark would stop tormenting Dean’s mind any time soon. Castiel was not sure just how much more of this they could take.

Dean was quiet for so long Castiel started a little when the raspy sound of the hunter's voice cut through the air without a warning.

“We can’t keep doing this forever, Cas.”

The angel knew exactly what the hunter meant without even asking for an explanation, maybe because his own mind had drifted in a very similar direction right then. At that thought, Castiel could not help but wonder if he was projecting into the bond. His Grace was too weak and his mind too tired for him to tell, but he could only guess the answer to that was positive. “We won’t, Dean.”

Another huff came from Dean, and the hunter pulled away from their embrace to look at the angel. “How much Grace did you just use, Cas?” He shook his head, his eyes glistening yet again, voice shaking, “Your nose isn’t even healed. Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine, Cas.”

“I will heal, Dean.”

“You told me I would feel it,” The tremble in Dean’s voice got even stronger, “When your Grace was running low. And it hurts. I can feel it.”

Closing his eyes, Castiel let out a breath. His Grace was hurting, aching, a sharp, strong pain coming from the core of his very being, but he had just used a great amount energy from it. His power was not dangerously low; it would heal enough that it shouldn’t cause Dean any discomfort. Last time his Grace had been close to running out, after it had started hurting like this it had still taken a few months for him to actually start to feel sick.

But his situation was completely different now, and the fact that Dean could feel his Grace aching at all was already alarming, because it meant they were getting close to their deadline; that soon this would become too dangerous to the baby, and they had yet to fix both of their problems. They had much less time than Castiel had previously thought, but he could not tell Dean about that now; he could not add to the hunter’s stress.

“I still have enough,” Castiel promised, “I used a lot now, but we still have time, Dean. My Grace is tired from fighting the Mark to snap you out of that hallucination, but it’ll heal.” He leaned forward, laying another gentle, light kiss to Dean’s lips, "I would tell you otherwise."

Fortunately the hunter nodded, accepting those words, exhaling heavily with his eyes still closed. “You’re exhausted, though,” Dean pointed out as he opened his eyes to give the angel an almost reprimanding stare, but his eyes were too sad to actually manage it, “You're barely sleeping, Cas, and that’s doing the opposite of helping, you know that. You need to rest.”

Castiel swallowed, but found that he had no response to give, so remained quiet. The words were true and he had no argument against them, so what was the point of speaking?

It took them a while to move, and when finally they stood from the bathroom floor, it was to clean their wounds. Castiel still did not wish to spend the energy it would take to heal his broken nose, so Dean insisted he let the hunter clean the blood that had apparently slid down and now stained the skin close to his mouth for him. Castiel allowed him to do it, and in return the angel tended to the cuts on Dean's hand, cleaning away the blood and making sure the slices from the broken glass were not too deep and would not get infected.

The rest of the day had felt heavy after that, the air almost loaded around them, but fortunately Dean did not have another episode. He would not leave Castiel’s side, under any circumstances, and they both resigned to reading their research in their bedroom where they could both rest. Not sleep, only rest their bodies, and that would have to be enough for now.

Only it wasn’t, and at some point Castiel found that he could not remain conscious for much longer, couldn't even properly hold the ice pack Dean had given him to press againts his nose to stop the swelling in place. His body was begging for rest and his Grace ached so much he knew he might pass out at any second and that at some point he would have to give in to the exhaustion. Dean would not stop telling him to sleep and insisting with very little confidence that he would be fine on his own, but the angel only actually allowed himself to rest after the hunter had promised him that he would wake Castiel if anything happened; if he as much as felt anything out of the ordinary.

Fortunately Castiel did manage to get a few hours of sleep and when he woke, Dean was still reading by his side, perfectly fine. The angel didn’t feel completely recovered or by any means fine after those brief hours of sleep, the ache in his Grace only mildly dulled, but he was more rested than before and for now that would have to do. He even felt good enough to heal his nose, and then proceeded to insist that Dean should also sleep, but the hunter had vehemently refused for as long as he could, clearly afraid of what might happen once he was unconscious.

At night, however, when finally the events of earlier that day seemed to really catch up to Dean and the hunter’s tiredness had clearly become too much for him, Dean had at last fallen asleep. Since he was feeling better, Castiel took that opportunity to heal the cuts on Dean's hands, because the hunter had not allowed the angel to do it while he had been awake.

But the nightmares had come back just half an hour later, apparently even more insistently than before, and Castiel had to fight the Mark for close to an hour, soothing Dean as much as he could, holding the human in his arms and silently wishing that there was something else he could do to lessen Dean’s stress, until finally the Mark seemed to give up and retract, leaving Dean alone to rest at last.

Castiel was exhausted by then. His Grace actually ached even more now, burning through his veins painfully, which reminded Castiel of the influence of the Mark, of its poisonous energy flooding his bloodstream and spreading through his entire body like it had done right after Dean had killed Cain, as ironic and twisted as that might be. His very soul whined, complained, begged him to rest more, but he refused, because he knew he could not do it. He could not leave Dean alone as the hunter slept, because if he did then the Mark could take advantage of his absence and try to pull Dean under once more.

The angel knew, however, that this could not continue for much longer, just as Dean had pointed out earlier; just as Castiel himself had concluded. He did not know how much longer his power would last, how many more weeks he would be able to do this for. His Grace grew weaker every day, grew more tired, and the countdown seemed to be going down much faster than it had before.

Resting his hand on the top of Dean’s head, the angel caressed the hunter’s hair slowly for a moment, careful not to wake him. Letting out a breath as he wished Dean could always look that peaceful, Castiel leaned forward, placing a short, light kiss to the human’s forehead, before turning to the side and placing his palm on the hunter’s stomach.

Dean didn’t use to like it when he did this, or at least that was the impression Castiel had gathered, but now the hunter seemed to be more accepting of it. For weeks, whenever Cas rest his palm over his stomach, Dean would always tense up at first, would always glance at the angel’s hand, surprised and perhaps bothered to see it there, and that was the reason why Castiel would refrain from doing it sometimes, as he had not wished to push Dean’s boundaries. Now, however, Dean didn’t seem to mind it anymore.

There was something else, however, that the angel wished to do sometimes, but that he had not yet attempted to with the hunter awake.

Carefully once more, Castiel moved back a little on the mattress, bending his body as he slowly lowered his head, placing an even lighter kiss onto the hunter’s stomach, closing his eyes as he leaned back just barely, lips still grazing the fabric of Dean’s shirt. He’d never dared to do this before while Dean was awake, afraid to make the hunter uncomfortable somehow, as him simply touching the human’s stomach had seemed to be enough to do that for quite a while. Castiel did not know what reaction Dean would have to it, so the angel would have to wait for more opportunities like this one for the time being.

“I’m so sorry,” he let out in a whisper, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t disturb Dean’s sleep, “I’m so sorry you both have to go through this. I…” He shook his head, taking in a steadying breath. He knew the baby could not in any way hear him in this stage, much less understand words, but Castiel found that he could not bring himself to stop speaking. “I’ll fix this. I promise you, I’ll fix this. You’ll be fine. You both will. No matter what I have to do, I will make sure of that.”

All he wanted to do was protect them, keep them safe. And that was the one thing he seemed to be failing at.

If he hadn’t trusted Metatron, his Grace would still be intact, and Dean and their child’s life would not be hanging so poorly in the balance; would not be hanging by nothing more than a thin, weak thread. His fully charged Grace would be able to fight the Mark much more easily than his borrowed one; it would be able to heal properly when used.

He had failed them already, simply by being the reason their lives were at risk right now. Even if Dean didn’t have the Mark, his Grace would still be burning out; he would still be the one putting them in a deadline.

This was his fault.

Letting out a heavy, strained sigh, Castiel stood and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind himself, although keeping his Grace alert, making sure the Mark would not try to harm Dean again while he was gone.

He walked back to the library, but did not sit down once he got there, did not resume his research as he would have been prone to do any other day. No, instead he leaned over the table, supporting his elbows on the wooden surface as he closed his eyes and hung his head low before his bent body.

He felt lost, unsure of what to do, this boiling sense of panic climbing up from his stomach to his chest and over into his throat. It felt a lot like nausea and he actually wondered with a start if he might actually vomit. He felt completely disoriented,  so much he finally understood the expression that described a feeling of 'one's head was spinning'. He had no clue what to do, what to even think.

He had felt like this a few times before over the past few years—when he’d been considering disobedience from Heaven years ago, when they’d been trying to stop the Apocalypse later on, and also during the war against Raphael. All those times had made him feel lost and powerless, disoriented and with the sinking feeling that they wouldn’t make it, that what they were aspiring was too much, too big.

And somehow, this, right now, felt much so bigger than all of that. It wasn’t the entire world at risk anymore; what loomed upon their heads now wasn’t another apocalypse. No, it was the lives of his mate and child that were hanging by a thread, and that by itself made the situation much more terrifying than all the others had been. And Castiel knew it was selfish to think that, to balance their current situation as worse than anything else they’d faced until now, but it was the truth; it was how he felt, and he couldn’t change that.

Because he believed he had the right to. After everything he had done for Heaven, for Earth, he believed he deserved to worry about himself and his family for once.

But how could he fix this? How could he possibly get through this? Maybe the Book of the Damned would lead to nothing, because Gabriel had made it seem like maybe it would be a start, not a solution, and Castiel was still greatly worried about that. They did not know for sure that it would lead to a cure for the Mark, and even if it might, even with all the combined efforts they were putting into translating it, they had yet to even figure out how to begin to decipher it, so that might as well be a dead end right there.

And the Book of the Damned was the only possible lead they had on curing Dean of the Mark of Cain, except for maybe involving Michael and Lucifer, which also did not sound like a viable or promising solution in any way.

And then there was his Grace. Castiel knew he could buy more time if he took another angel's Grace, but he refused to kill another angel for that. That wasn't a permanent solution anyway, as each Grace would last less time than the previous one, and either way, Dean would not be able to deliver if Castiel did not have his original Grace. But how could he even know if there was any of it left? What if there wasn’t? What if Metatron had been lying to save his life when he’d said there was some still out there? Because if there wasn’t…

A shaky breath escaped his lips at that thought, and odd sensation brewing in Castiel’s throat, like a burn that had appeared there without a source. He swallowed, but for some reason his throat remained clogged, the insides of it feeling raw and almost painful. He had no idea what was happening, much less how to deal with it.

Swallowing once more, he forced the words that had suddenly gathered on his tongue out of his mouth. He hadn’t done this in years, had not had the desire to do it at all since the last time, but it was all he could to think do right now. He needed a light, needed help, and apparently he had no one else to go to.

“You probably won’t even answer me. I do not know why I’m… I’m even doing this.” Because he didn’t exactly expect to get any response. He hadn’t in years, so why should this time be any different?

But his Father had helped them before, had saved Dean and Sam from Lucifer when the Cage had been opened and had brought him back to life three times, so that had to mean something. It had to. Castiel was sure of it.

He had no reason to be hopeful, to hold on to the thought that his Father might actually help him right now. It was almost foolish of him to harbor even the smallest spark of hope in his chest, he knew that, and yet that thought was not enough to stop him from talking.

“I did everything for you, everything you asked of me. I… I tried to do the right thing. I did everything I could to save what you made, your creation. I protected it, as you wished. I gave my life for that, more than once.” He swallowed, his throat feeling even more clogged than before, but he still managed to force the words out, “And you brought me back. Every time. That… that has to mean something.”

His voice was wavering, and as he lifted his hand, he felt something against his cheek, wet and moving, rolling down his skin—a tear, he realized with a start.

He stared at it for a moment, unsure how to process the sight of it, the fact that he was actually crying failing to register in his mind. He had never done it before.

Swallowing, he pushed that thought away, finding one more unsteady breath escaping his lips.

“I know why you ruled out nephilims. They were being used, powerful and dangerous creatures created by rogue angels who had twisted intentions. I understand why that is forbidden, but this…” Another shaky breath jumped from his mouth, and he felt yet another tear sliding down his face, running down the skin of his other cheek. His eyes were stinging, his vision blurry, and he felt something very close to a hiccup escape his mouth. Briefly, he wondered if it was a sob. “This is nothing like that. I have no such intentions, you know that. And I refuse to believe you don’t care.”

Letting his head hang once more, he closed his eyes, another weird, unfamiliar sound escaping his throat. He couldn’t stop them anymore, it seemed.

“Please, Father, I… I need help.” Another sob, this one choked, broken. His body was shaking and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it stop. “I don’t know what else to do. I don't know how to save them. I don't... I need… I need your help.”

The next breath was even shakier, an even odder sound escaping his mouth, but he was not sure what to call this one. He pulled air in through his nose as he felt wetness inside, a moment later realizing he had just sniffed.

“I’m begging you. I cannot lose them. I cannot—” His voice failed them, breaking, coming out of his mouth as nothing more than a low, weak wheeze. Another sob erupted from his throat, and yet again he felt like he might be choking somehow. The words sounded so pained Castiel could barely recognize his own voice, “Please.”

It shouldn’t have seen such a surprise, just as it should not have hurt so much, when he got no response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warning (with details):_ The brief mention of the Mark's illusion consists of a few paragraphs in which Dean remembers a few things that happened to him in Hell. After that, Dean has another flashback from Hell, this time in the form of a nightmare, and in it Alastair taunts Dean about never having stood up to his father and about all his relationships, including with Cas. Then the demon attempts to kill the baby by stabbing Dean in the stomach. Dean wakes up before that actually happens, though. Once more, nothing about it is real.
> 
> The scene in italic got mixed up with a phone conversation, so if you're unsure about what italic text you should be skipping, that part starts at _"Pain. Hell."_ and ends at _"And it hurt to breathe, it **freaking hurt**..."_.
> 
> The nightmare scene begins at **"Alastair was laughing over him."** and ends at **"Only he wasn't in his cell anymore."**.
> 
> -
> 
> So many secrets... ;D
> 
> I almost cried writing that last part, just so you guys know. There's just something about Cas actually breaking down like that that really makes me emotional, and that scene really got to me.
> 
> I know everything is pretty heavy right now, but I promise you that in the next chapter things will actually start gettting better. :) There's even a funny scene in it. ;D Our little family really deserves a break.<3 :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, but real life got a little crazy this month and this chapter turned out way too long. But hey, it's still February, right? ;P
> 
> I considered splitting this into two chapters, but I ended up deciding against it, because for some reason this one didn't feel right as two separate chapters. So, yeah, 36k chapter, yay! ;D
> 
> I would like to apologize in advance for what I called the 'funny scene' in last chapter. I still think it's hilarious, though. XD
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains spoilers for the episode 10x16, "Paint It Black".
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the songs featured in this chapter. All the song titles and lyrics used in this chapter belong to their respective owners.

“Wait, you did _what?_ ”

Dean paused his pacing, flinching as he quickly closed his mouth shut, turning his head to look across the room and over toward the door a few feet away, the one connecting the library to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, going completely quiet and waiting for a moment to make sure that he hadn’t woken Cas up with his little outburst, even holding his breath for a long beat to hear better in the lingering silence of the Bunker. Now that at last Dean’s nightmares and flashbacks were finally growing rarer, they were both managing to catch up on their sleep, but not as well as the hunter would have liked. The angel had still barely been sleeping during the past few weeks, insisting that they couldn’t just let their guards down simply because the Mark had quieted down a little, and he only actually rested when he could no longer stay awake and finally passed out. He had pretty much just blacked out a few hours ago, but way too few for him to be awoken again. It really worried Dean, how little Cas had still been sleeping lately, how many all-nighters the angel had still been pulling just so he could ‘watch over Dean’, which the angel insisted was absolutely necessary, as he was still afraid of what would happen if the hunter slept without him constantly making sure that the Mark wouldn’t throw another fit.

Even darker bags were already forming under the angel’s eyes with how much he was still pushing himself, and that was definitely something that Dean had not been prepared to see on him. It honestly terrified the hunter to even think about what that could mean, but his words and worry just didn’t seem to be enough to make Cas change his mind about anything he was doing and actually worry about his own health for once.

If Cas’ Grace had been stronger, none of this would happen. True, it had already been a whole damn month and a half since Cain, a period of time during which the angel had barely rested at all and fought the Mark pretty much on a daily basis, so he was really pushing his limits by now, and that kind of thing was bound to take a toll on anyone. But if Cas had his actual Grace Dean knew it wouldn’t be this much of a problem, even if the angel still needed to sleep because of the soul bond. It wouldn’t be fun, of course not, but at least Cas wouldn’t constantly look like he was about to just topple over at any second like he did these days.

But that wasn’t the case right now, and while Cas insisted on telling Dean that he was fine, that he could do this, that the hunter shouldn’t worry, of course Dean freaking worried. How could he not? He knew Cas wasn’t telling him everything, probably because he didn’t want him to worry even more, Dean got that way too well, but didn’t Cas think Dean deserved to know just how bad their situation actually was? He knew Cas was a lot weaker than he was letting on and it bothered the hell out of Dean that the angel was trying to hide it from him.

Shaking his head to try and push those gloomy thoughts away, Dean started to walk around the library again just as he'd been doing earlier, happy to realize that there was no sign of the angel anywhere around, the bond feeling just as numb and calm as it had been a moment before, which meant that Cas was most likely still asleep in their room.

Good.

A huff reached Dean's right ear, coming from the cell phone he currently had pressed against it. _“Dean, we’re kind of out of options here. Even Gabriel can’t read the damn thing. What else are we supposed to do?”_ Sam was trying to be coherent, Dean knew that, but there was an edge of almost nervousness to his little brother's voice, like a plea for Dean to believe him and give him any sort of positive answer, like Sam needed Dean to agree with him so he could have some sort of confirmation himself.

Well, the problem was, Dean didn’t agree with Sam on this one. Like, at all.

“Sam, there’s gotta be something else on our options list before we call the damn King of Hell and ask him for help with the freaking Book of the Damned!” He couldn’t keep the exasperation from bleeding into his voice, but he did fortunately manage to not yell or raise his voice too much again, so that was already something. He was actually surprised with his brother on this one, because seriously, hadn’t Sam learned that already? Crowley was the last resort, the last person to call, the last choice, the last _everything_ , honestly. Sure, Gabriel didn’t seem like too much help right now, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to bring Crowley into this. _Nothing_ was, really. “How the hell does telling _Crowley_ that we have the Book of the Damned sound like a good freaking idea to you?”

Dean heard Sam exhale on the other end, and he could almost see his brother pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, his face morphed into an annoyed frown just like it did every time when he was thinking and didn’t like what he was getting back as a response from his mind. That happened whenever he and Dean were fighting and he was choosing his words carefully but wasn’t finding it easy at all. He probably ran his hand through his hair, too, throwing that long, ridiculous mane of his to the side a few times, making a mess of it until he finally tucked it behind his ears and got any more words out.

 _“It doesn’t, Dean. I know it doesn’t.”_ Another heavy breath reached Dean's ear, but this one was different. It sounded more resigned, tired, like the fight had left Sam somehow all of a sudden and all that was left in him right then was the exhaustion he’d been collection over the course of the past few months. It made Dean’s heart heavy in his chest to hear it, guilt swelling inside of him once more since he knew too damn well that this was his own freaking fault. _“It doesn’t even really matter, anyway. He can’t read the Book.”_

And even though Dean still wasn’t happy Sam had called Crowley for this, even if he knew that maybe the fact that the demon couldn’t read the Book should be a good thing in case he were to ever get his hands on it somehow, because then maybe he wouldn’t be able to use it, or would at least have trouble with it, Dean still felt a wave of disappointment washing over him at the words. If the King of Hell himself couldn’t read the Book of the Damned, if a freaking _archangel_ couldn’t read it, then how the hell would they be able to? Who the hell…?

_“He said he knows someone who might be able to read it, though.”_

Dean stopped short, almost losing his balance at the abrupt halt in his steps. “Who?” The word jumped from his tongue, and even he himself was able to hear the hint of hope that suddenly mingled in with his voice, even if maybe he shouldn’t have allowed it, shouldn’t have let anticipation blossom in his chest yet again. But he just couldn’t help it.

 _“A witch,”_ was Sam’s response, _“He can’t seem to find her anywhere, though. Apparently, he’d been keeping her somewhere, but she hasn’t been seen in three days and no one knows where she went. I heard something about a date of some sort, but I couldn’t make out much from the conversation. Crowley sounded pretty pissed on the phone, though. I think she might have gotten away from him.”_

And just like that, Dean’s hope deflated, like a balloon poked with a needle, leaving a hole that felt even bigger than usual in his chest. Could they just not get any good news, like, ever? Didn’t they deserve at least one freaking break by now? Every day things just seemed to get even worse for them and he was fucking tired of it.

“Well, maybe it’s for the best,” Dean forced the words out of his mouth, and even to his ears they sounded strained, insincere. He shouldn’t have let himself be hopeful about this, he knew that, and yet he was still disappointed as he heard all that. But maybe he was entitled to feel that way, with just how much was at stake here. He just needed to hear a little bit of good news, just for once, and he had the right to be bitter when that wasn’t the case. Fuck, couldn't things just go right in his life for once? Apparently, judging by how every single thing just seemed to be going completely wrong for them lately, he could very confidently guess that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. “You know, that Crowley can’t read it. We can’t trust the guy, especially not with something like the freaking Book of the Damned.”

 _“Yeah,”_ Sam couldn’t have sounded unhappier to say it, and there was an edge to his voice that let Dean know that his brother was aware of exactly what Dean was thinking in that moment; that he shared the feeling of frustration Dean felt sharply in his chest, insistent as always. That did not, by any means, make Dean feel any better about their current situation. _“Crowley’s gonna keep looking for the witch, though. Maybe… well, maybe there’s something there.”_

Dean swallowed, nodding weakly, even though there was no one there to see it, “Yeah, maybe.” He didn’t want to feel hopeful about this. He had a terrible feeling about this whole thing, because accepting help from some witch Crowley was keeping somewhere? That sounded like a really bad idea, no more details needed.

And yet Dean couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope blossoming in his chest just thinking about it. They had nothing else to go on about someone who could read the Book; no other ideas of whom they could go to for this because their three best bets—Cas, Gabriel and Crowley—had led them nowhere, so of course he would feel that way at the littlest possibility of someone being able to translate the damn thing.

But he was still a little mad at himself for allowing it.

“What now, though?”

Sam sighed on the other end, and Dean already knew his brother wasn’t happy with what he was about to say. _“Charlie wants us to wait.”_

“Wait?” Dean asked with a frown, “For the witch?” It didn’t seem like a smart idea to just keep stop trying to do translate the Book themselves. They couldn’t just count on Crowley’s word about this witch, and they also couldn’t exactly trust her anyway, so really the ideal course of action here would be for them to continue to try and do it themselves and not rely on something so uncertain and risky. Maybe they might actually get somewhere on their own and not need to involve the witch at all.

_“No, more like… she says if we push ourselves any more we might actually have an aneurism. She thinks we need a break, so she found us a case in Worcester, Massachusetts.”_

“Oh. Well, it makes sense. You guys really should take a break.” Briefly, Dean wondered at what point a hunt had become a break for them, and that only made it clearer just how messed up their lives were right now; that something like that actually made sense at all. Life had always been messed up for them ever since they were kids, of course; nothing had ever been normal in their family since their mother had died, but now things were so beyond what normal had been to them at some point that it was almost ridiculous. “What’s the case?”

_“Four deaths, all adult males who went to the same church, but the deaths were three suicides and one murder. Also, they all died right after they had been to the church, so I’m guessing that’s our connection already.”_

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Dean agreed, yet again nodding lightly to no one, “You’re thinking what, demon possession?”

_“I don’t know. I mean, it doesn’t seem right. Most of the deaths were suicides, so what’s the point of just killing the hosts, you know? And, well, the man that was murdered was killed by his wife, and she's alive. It just doesn't add up.”_

Dean nodded again. It did seem a little weird. “True. Well, you kids have fun with that.”

Sam chuckled in response, the sound a little too dry and lacking actual amusement, and he didn’t say anything else. He grew quiet after that, and Dean could almost hear him thinking on the other end, his brother’s abrupt silence feeling oddly loaded. That or maybe he had fallen asleep, because with just how tired Sam sounded Dean honestly wouldn’t be surprised.

“Sam, you still there?” Dean asked after about half a minute of silence, unsure at this point if he was even going to get a response at all.

He was actually surprised when he heard a quiet, _“Dean…”_ His name was breathed out, like a tired, hesitant whisper, and Dean wasn’t sure how to read it.

“Yeah?” he replied, frowning again.

 _“Do you…”_ Sam let out another breath, like he had just changed his mind about what he had been about to say, and when he spoke again suddenly his voice was a lot stronger. _“How are you feeling, Dean? Are you… better? Because, you know, after being out for two weeks… I mean, last week you said you were still feeling a little out of it, so, how…?”_

Sam was stumbling on his words and Dean knew way too well that usually that wasn’t a good sign. His brother only did that when he wanted to say something without actually being forward about it; like he was trying to figure out a way around the subject that would get him an answer for some unspoken question he did not want to actually ask outright, and normally that meant that Dean wouldn’t like what he would be hearing next.

He could already guess what that would most likely end up being about this time, though, so he was quick to let out the automatic, “I’m fine, Sammy.” It wasn’t a complete a lie this time, at least. He was feeling much better than he had been three weeks ago, so by comparison he really was fine. He felt more in control of his own mind somehow, which was a true relief. He could actually walk around the Bunker without having a breakdown now, and the blacks out had become almost rare, so much they were only happening once every two or three days. And they also seemed to be getting less vivid and easier to break out of, as were the nightmares, so that was really progress. Dean liked to think that meant the Mark had used most of the power it had gotten from Cain’s death and that eventually it would go back to how it used to be before Ohio. So yeah, Dean actually believed saying he was fine wasn’t that much of a lie, even if it wasn't quite the truth either, because honestly, he wouldn't truly be fine until the Mark was finally off his arm and Cas had his original Grace back. “Seriously, I’m… way better.”

 _“Good. That’s great, Dean.”_ There was just something about Sam’s tone that rang a weird note in Dean’s ear, and he got even more intrigued, frowning a little as curiosity sparked to life in his chest. _“What about Cas? I mean, he was in a pretty bad shape when I left.”_

“He’s…” Dean swallowed, licking his lips as he found he couldn’t let that one lie slip through his lips. Cas wasn’t fine at all; Dean was worried the angel might in fact be getting worse with every day that passed and the stubborn bastard just refused to take care of himself or let Dean take care of him, and the pain that thought brought to the hunter’s chest then kept him from trying to cover that one up from Sam. “He’s sleeping right now. His Grace is… It’s running low, Sam. He’s not doing so good.”

He heard Sam exhale tiredly once more on the other end, and when his brother spoke again his tone had changed into something heavier. _“Dean, I…”_ Another pause, another sigh. Suddenly Dean knew for sure that he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear next at all. _“I know you said you don’t want to do this, but…”_

“Sam, don’t.” His tone was suddenly harsh but honestly, Dean didn’t really care. There was just no discussion on this, and okay, maybe it would be harder to make Sam see that without telling his brother the whole truth, but Dean had to try. He had to get his point across about this somehow. “The bond is what’s keeping Cas _alive_ right now.”

_“Or it might be killing him faster, Dean. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about this. The Mark is hurting him, Dean. What if—”_

“Sam, that’s enough.” Dean swallowed, because in a way he knew Sam’s words were true and he hated the feeling that brought onto him. He knew the Mark was making the angel’s situation even worse, that it was killing Cas faster, and that one was all on him; he was the one who had agreed to take on the damn thing in the first place, so whatever it did to Cas was his own damn fault.

But he couldn’t change that now.

And the thing was that Sam didn’t know even half of it. In fact, the situation was even worse than his brother was aware of. He didn’t know how Cas’ Grace was giving a lot of energy to the growing nephilim in Dean's womb, that it was burning out even faster than Sam was aware of, or just how bad Dean’s illusions and hallucinations had actually gotten.

A flash of Cas with a broken nose flooded his mind, and Dean shook his head to try and send it away. He still hated himself for that one; still beat himself up in his head every freaking day for actually hurting Cas like he had. No matter how many times he apologized to Cas; how many times the angel insisted it hadn’t been his fault, Dean just didn’t feel any better about it because it had been his freaking fault and he knew it. Everything the Mark did was his fault.

Briefly Dean imagined Sam’s reaction to learning all of that, but the only conclusion he could draw from that was that Sam might be even more intent on convincing Dean about how they should break the soul bond. And Dean would have to agree with him that it did sound like the most logical solution; in fact, he and Cas had reached that same conclusion back in Absarokee before Gabriel had showed himself to them.

But there was one more detail that Sam didn’t know that would definitely change his mind about the whole situation, since he didn’t know what actually depended on the soul bond right now.

Too bad Dean still hadn’t gotten around to telling him about that one.

“I know the Mark is making everything worse, Sam,” Dean let out, breathing out a tired sigh as he ran his hand over his stubble. “But we can’t…” Closing his eyes, he pinched his nose, sorting out his words carefully in his head. “Trust me, Sam, Cas and I have talked about this, a lot. We can’t break the bond, not now. If we do… Cas won’t make it.” That was the best way he could put it without sharing the real reason.

Another breath came from the speaker, and instantly Dean knew his argument had worked. _“Okay, yeah, Dean, I hear you.”_ Dean mentally let out a sigh of relief at those words. _“Just… rest, both of you, alright? You need it.”_

“You got it, Sammy. You too.”

A huff was all Dean got in response to that.

After ending the call, Dean still lingered a little in the library for another hour or so, continuing the research he had been doing before Sam had called, carefully looking through the book in front of him and sometimes checking the notes Cas had made earlier on his own research, trying to find anything that would match between them; looking for any similarities in the symbols before his tired eyes that could give him anything on how to begin to translate the weird language the Book of the Damned was written in.

It didn’t take too long for him to grow tired of it, though, his muscles aching, joints popping and hurting for having stayed in the same position for so long, insistently reminding that he was 36 years old and no longer a teenager. He had basically been sitting here since he had woken up hours ago, so he decided he could read more later and that he had to do something else, preferably something that had him moving around a little and wouldn’t make his body hate him as much as it did right then.

But Cas was sleeping, so that didn’t leave him with many options.

He leaned back on his chair as he thought about it, feeling his body complain at the movement. He didn’t feel like doing the dishes right now, and honestly there wasn’t much to work on there, anyway, just what they'd used while making and eating breakfast since Cas had taken care of that yesterday after dinner. There also wasn’t anything he could do on the matter of sorting through the Men of Letters’ files they hadn’t yet looked through, because honestly, that was more Sam’s thing, and Dean really didn’t feel like doing something like that right now. He also didn’t want to play around with his laptop, because again, he didn’t want to stay sitting for any longer. So really, he couldn’t think of anything—

Oh. He smiled as a thought crossed his mind, because how hadn’t he thought of this sooner? That was really something he could do that he hadn’t done in a while, and honestly, now that he thought about it, it was a little overdue, too.

With a smile still lingering on his lips, he got up from his chair, already feeling excited about what he was going to be doing next. So he quickly walked into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, quietly making his way to their room so he could get a few things he would need.

When he got there he opened the door as silently as he could, wincing when even the low whine it made sounded way too loud in his ears. He padded into the room slowly, his eyes glued to the angel-shaped bump of clothing and covers on the bed, but fortunately Cas didn’t seem to wake. He didn’t even move; just resumed snoring softly on the bed, curled up adorable to a pillow and wrapped up in the duvet like a burrito on the bed as he slept soundly.

Good.

The bond felt calm, numb, just buzzing softly between them while Cas was unconscious, and for what felt like the thousandth time Dean felt relief at the feeling of it. The memory of the pain coming from the bond the night Dean had broken Cas’ nose; the sharp, deep ache that had flooded his being because the angel had used too much of his Grace was still too fresh in his mind, and he was still terrified of what that could mean. Sure, just as Cas had assured him would happen, the angel's spent Grace had healed over course of the following days, so much that the ache had faded eventually and Dean could no longer feel it, but of course Cas’ Grace hadn’t fully healed like it should normally do and the fact that it had gotten so low that Dean had been able to feel it hurt worried the hunter to no end.

It only made it clearer that Cas wasn’t telling him just how bad things really were, and that really bothered him.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed those thoughts away for now. There was nothing he could do about any of that, anyway, since Cas was asleep at the moment, and even if he wasn’t, the angel just didn’t seem willing to talk about this whenever Dean tried to make him open up. It was just pointless.

Dean walked over to the nightstand on his side of the bed, pulling the drawer open slowly, quickly fetching the iPod dock he’d bought a few months ago, at Sam’s constant whining for Dean to stop using his. That would never go in his Baby, of course not, since no one should ever do such a thing to his car, but he had to admit it was nice to play his songs through the small speakers when he was doing something like what he planned on doing now.

It was also nice not to have to hear Sam complaining about how Dean should just admit he liked the thing and buy his own.

He also grabbed his iPod, and soon enough he was off, but not before glancing one last time at the sleeping angel as he closed the door, smiling at how all he could see from him was one arm peeking out from under the duvet as it hugged the pillow against the angel's chest and the top of his head, messy dark hair emerging from the pile of covers that hid him almost completely from sight, buried in the nest that still existed on their bed. Dean just hadn’t really wanted to disassemble it, not when it seemed to make Cas feel better, and well, it _was_ comfortable to sleep in it now that he had someone to share it with.

Not to mention the sight of Cas sleeping in it was adorable.

He walked quickly across the Bunker, his steps unhurried and feeling oddly light as he moved, and soon enough he got to where he’d wanted to go.

At the Bunker’s garage, Dean got everything he would need ready—the sponges, the rags, the hose, the bucket he filled with water and inside of which he threw some car wash soap, and the wax he normally used for polishing the Impala’s paint.

Baby deserved a shower, after all. She was pretty dirty, so much that Dean actually felt guilty for the way he’d pretty much rejected her until now just because he wasn’t driving her around at the moment. The dirt roads they had driven on to get to Austin's farm over a month ago hadn’t been kind to her, not when Dean himself had driven her, nor when Sam had driven her back here all the way from Ohio. Sam must have caught rain on the way, too, because there was a thin layer of dust attached to her that she must have collected after not having been dried properly once Sam had gotten back to the Bunker. It must have settled on her during the past few weeks of being parked here in the garage, Dean realized as he ran a finger over her painting, which left a clear path as his skin uncovered her actual color hidden underneath. He shook his head disapprovingly at the coated tip of his finger.

Poor thing.

“Sorry, Baby,” He patted her hood softly, feeling even more dirt attaching to his skin as he did it, but he ignored it, “I’ll take care of you now. I know you hate being dirty.”

So he got to work, but not before setting his iPod on shuffle mode, playing from the dock he’d placed on the table he’d pulled closer to the Impala. He had a few playlists ready there, he knew that, but he wanted to feel a little surprised, so shuffle it was.

He couldn’t do that with Sam around, though. There were a few questionable music choices in there, that being the reason why Sam could never even touch Dean’s iPod. Of course, he loved classic rock, he’d learned to with his father, but there were times when he was alone and liked to play with the radio stations in the car just to see what he might find, and a few of those times he’d stumbled upon a few songs that just wouldn’t leave his head for days, so of course he had to listen to them again, no matter who the artist was or what year it had been released.

Yeah. Okay.

But Dean was alone in the garage right now, with Sam miles away, hidden in a cabin deep in the woods in the north of Minnesota, and Cas deeply asleep back in their room, which was pretty far from the garage, so Dean was sure the angel wouldn’t wake up because of the music. And with just how little the angel had been sleeping lately, well, Dean’s guess was that he would still be out for a few more hours.

Led Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_ started to emanate from the little speakers, filling the air in the garage, and Dean smiled.

Well, time to get to work.

Before he worked on how she looked, though, he had to make sure she was also working just fine, so he turned the key in the ignition to hear her purr, deciding he couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary in her engine. He had taken a look at her transmission and breaks very recently, so he skipped that and focused on her suspension instead, making sure everything was properly aligned after all the abuse she had taken on their trip through all those uneven dirt roads on their way to and back from Ohio. He also checked her tires, finding they were just a bit flatter than he would have liked and adjusting the pressure in all four of them, even if he had no plans of taking her out for a spin any time soon.

This had him considering just going for a drive with her sometime soon, because he already missed her. Driving the Impala was oddly calming and relaxing, and he really thought maybe it would distract him a little, maybe even make him feel better. He should suggest it to Cas later, so the angel could come with him. It might do both of them good, Dean was sure of it.

He took a quick, basic look at the engine, because again, he’d checked this fairly recently, so all he did today was make sure there was enough engine oil and water in her, as well as enough fuel in the starter motor.

When he was happy with what he saw, he decided it was time to work on her interior. He rearranged the trunk first, taking all the bags out and checking what needed to be replaced or refilled, and quickly he realized that they were running a little low on salt rounds. He made a mental note to make more of those later, because even though they had no plans of going hunting any time soon, you just never knew when you might need them. It would be stupid to drive around without any of it ready for use.

Once he was done with that, he put everything back in and closed the trunk, and then went over to the where he'd placed the bucket and the rest of his cleaning supplies earlier, getting what he would need to give Baby a proper cleaning. He should clean the rest of the inside first; vacuum it a little, because honestly, she deserved the whole cleaning experience today. It had been a while.

When he walked back over to her, though, carrying the small little vacuum cleaner he’d bought specifically to tend to the Impala, he noticed a bag was still lying on the floor a couple feet away from the car.

And he knew exactly laid inside of it.

It was the bag where they kept all the angel feathers; the one that had remained untouched for years; the one Henry had somehow found in their trunk when he'd cooked up his time traveling, soul power channeling spell. They had stuffed it even deeper into the trunk after the incident with their grandfather, hidden away from sight under the rest of their hunting and spell brewing equipment, and neither of them had laid a hand on it since. Honestly, they’d never used it at all; never had they come across a spell that required an angel feather until the one Henry had performed.

He frowned down confusedly at the bag, because that should be in the trunk. He remembered setting it down exactly there earlier, but he also knew that he had put all the bags back inside the trunk and that there hadn’t been any left as he’d closed it, or at least he thought there hadn’t been, anyway. Now that he thought about it, though, he didn’t remember picking that one up at all, either. He eyed it for a second, still unsure, but ended up brushing it off after a moment because maybe the loud music playing had distracted him and he hadn’t seen it there.

So he picked it up, not feeling like digging everything back out of the trunk just to shove it back in there as deep as it had been before, buried under countless other bags and items. Honestly, he didn’t feel like putting it back in there at all. After his conversation with Cas about angel wings and nesting, he’d kind of wanted to take it out and have a look at the feathers again for a while, now that he knew which ones belonged to Cas, so that night he’d thought that later he might take it out of the trunk to do that, but he’d never gotten the chance to do it since then with all the crap that had been going on lately. He had actually forgotten about it completely.

He wouldn’t do that now, of course. Now he had a car to clean. But he would look through the feathers soon, and as he kept that thought in mind, he dropped the bag onto the table to the side, just beside the iPod dock, which was currently blasting on AC/DC’s _Highway to Hell_.

He cleaned the inside of the car first, and then scrubbed Baby clean on the outside, covering her with soap and rinsing her carefully, then drying her and giving her all the care she deserved until she was shiny again, not leaving even a single hint of dirt anywhere on her, moving carefully around her and even swaying his hips around a little at the sound of Led Zeppelin, Metallica, Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC … and the eventual Ed Sheeran, too, but again, no one was there to witness it.

 _Bad Moon Rising_ by Creedence Clearwater Revival gave place to _(_ _Don’t Fear) the Reaper_ by Blue Oyster Cult as Dean got out the wax and started to polish the Impala, giving her the shine she deserved. AC/DC’s _Back in Black_ came on next, and then Metallica’s _For Whom the Bell Tolls._ Sometimes Dean would stop what he was doing to just feel the music, and if his fingers would drum against the metal or play on invisible guitar string from time to time, just feeling the music and enjoying his time caring for his Baby, well, no one was there to see it or tell him to stop.

He was almost done with her when it happened. The familiar notes of Led Zeppelin's  _Stairwell to Heaven_ died in the background, giving place to another tune, one he had found quite recently in another one of his radio explorations, and that had played on a constant loop inside his head for a whole freaking week until he had to listen to it again.

_I stay out too late, got nothing in my brain._

_That’s what people say. That’s what people say._

Alright, yeah, he had a freaking Taylor Swift song in his iPod. In his defense, the song was freaking catchy as hell; it just glued itself to the inside of your skull and you couldn’t get it out until you heard it again, about a hundred times in a roll. That was it; the only reason it was there. He didn’t even like it that much, really. He had meant to delete it after he was done listening to it a few times, but he’d just never gotten around to it.

Yeah.

_I go on way too many dates, but I can’t make them stay._

_At least that’s please say. That’s what people say._

Dean could stop the song if he wanted to, he knew that, but well, his hands were all dirty and sticky from the wax, and he didn’t want to get that all over his iPod. And there was no point in cleaning his hands to do it, either, because, well, it was just a song, and the time it would take him to get his hands clean enough to touch the iPod would probably be the length of the song anyway. There was no point in doing that, it was just a waste of time, and definitely not worth it.

Yeah. Okay.

So Dean let the song play, spreading the wax over Baby’s paint and doing his work calmly, and well, if his hips were swaying a little to the tune playing in the background, following the beat a little, it wasn’t his fault. Again, the song was catchy, and the beat really wasn’t _that_ bad. It was a completely different style from what he usually listened to, of course, but sometimes you just have that song that has nothing to do with your taste that you just like listening to from time to time.

And really, who could just stand still when such an upbeat song was playing, honestly?

_‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play._

_And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate._

_Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake._

_I shake it off, I shake it off._

And okay, maybe he was bobbing his head a little to the tune, too, his body accompanying the beat as he continued to work on Baby, rolling his shoulders and swaying his hips a little more than before as time went on.

Okay, yeah, he kind of liked this song.

Shut up.

_Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break._

_And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake._

_Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake._

_I shake it off, I shake it off._

He was walking around Baby by the end of the song, meaning to take care of her other side, still swaying to the song a little, and he definitely wasn’t going to admit that he was a little disappointed when the song was over. He was actually considering cleaning his hands to play it again just one more time because that had actually been pretty fun, more than he had thought it would, when suddenly he caught sight of dark green by the corner of his eye.

And he froze, eyes wide as he looked over to the garage door, where none other than Cas was standing, leaning a little against the doorframe, watching him.

And the bastard was freaking _smiling._

“Cas! I—” Dean tripped over his own feet a little as he hastily tried to get to his iPod, but fortunately he managed it without falling and quickly pressed the pause icon on the screen, having to do it more than once as he let out a low curse because of the wax covering his fingers screwing up the touch screen, smearing the mess onto the entire thing and making the screen blurry, but he couldn’t bother to worry about that right then. The beginning of Led Zeppelin’s _Black Dog_ was cut off abruptly, and Dean turned his head to look down at his feet. He’d kicked the bucket of soapy water on his haste, but fortunately it hadn’t toppled over or anything, because _that_ would have made a mess. Shaking his head, Dean looked back up at the angel, who had not yet moved, “I didn’t hear you… coming in or… anything.” His voice was squeaky and he hated it.

Cas frowned, apparently taking the fact that he had been noticed as his cue, as though that somehow meant that walking over to where Dean was standing was now acceptable. There was a question in the angel's eyes, and although Dean wasn’t sure what it was exactly, he still caught himself talking.

“I didn’t think… I mean, you were so tired, I didn’t… I thought you were gonna sleep for a while.”

Cas tilted his head to the side a little, looking even more confused. “I’m not sure what woke me up and for some reason I could not go back to sleep. I decided to come looking for you when I realized it was pointless to simply lie in bed staring up at the ceiling if I was not going to manage to fall asleep.”

Yeah, okay, that was weird, because with how tired Cas had been earlier he really should have slept more, but Dean’s brain just accepted the explanation without questioning it, racing as it tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t embarrass him even further. Honestly, the only response he was getting from his brain was that the better course of action would be for him to crawl under the Impala and hope that Cas would just let him die of humiliation under there. It didn’t seem very likely, though. And the floor under Baby was pretty wet, too, so that would be a little uncomfortable. “I’m… washing the car.” Wow, Dean, brilliant. As if Cas hadn’t gathered _that_ one by himself. But his mind just wasn’t working properly and Dean could not for the life of him come up with something coherent, much less helpful. The forming of full sentences was suddenly a mystery to his brain.

He considered asking Cas how much he had seen, but a second later Dean realized it didn't matter. Only a second of that little show would already have been enough.

Shaking his head, he still tried to let out an explanation, though. “I was just… you know… That wasn’t…”

“You’re nervous,” Cas commented, now standing just before Dean, tilting his head to the side even more as his eyes narrowed in concentration. He had that intense look he got when he was trying to read Dean going on, and the human swallowed a little under the intensity of the stare, shifting his weight on his legs as he still struggled to try and make his mind cooperate with him. It wasn’t working very well. “Why?”

“What? No, I’m not… nervous. I’m just…” Dean laughed nervously as scratched the back of his head, hating how his face felt hot. He knew he was blushing, and he despised it. He was just embarrassed, of course he was, because he dancing to freaking Taylor Swift was just not something he had ever planned to have Cas see, and he just couldn’t talk his way out this one. But he didn't need his shame painted all over his face, damn it.

The look of confusion that had taken root on Cas’ face didn’t waver, a certain determination to understand what was going on filling his gaze, and Dean sighed in defeat. He really wasn’t going to drop this, was he?

“I just… the song…” Dean shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, as if that would somehow make this not be such a big deal. Of course, he knew that was really freaking unlikely to work, but he had to try, so he let his voice hang in the air as he examined Cas’ expression closely, but of course Cas didn’t take the hint and only looked even more confused. “It’s a… it’s a girl song, okay? Like, teenage girl song.”

Cas’ frown deepened even more, but there was suddenly a hint of understanding in his eyes. “You’re embarrassed,” the angel concluded.

Dean scratched his neck again. “Well, yeah, I mean, no one even knows I… have that song, and I just… I’m always listening to rock, it’s kind of…”

“Dean, you are not defined by the kind of music you listen to, and I see no reason to be ashamed of enjoying one song in particular, even if it does not meet your usual choice of music.”

Dean had to actually pause at that, surprised at the words, but he couldn’t help but smile a little, because well, when he thought about it, the response shouldn’t have been surprising to him at all. It was just so Cas to say something like that, to just act like there was nothing wrong with him dancing to Taylor Swift and be confused about why Dean was making such a big deal out of this. If it were Sam or Charlie Dean knew he would never hear the end of this, but this was _Cas_.

He actually chuckled at how ridiculous he felt in that moment, as the relief quickly flooded his body. “Just… never tell Sam about it, okay? Or Charlie. Or anyone. Like, ever.”

Cas actually seemed amused at that, but nodded nonetheless.

Dean went back to work then, deciding to do it without the music this time, now that Cas was here with him, even if the angel wasn’t saying anything. He just stood there to the side, leaning against the table a few steps away from the Impala as he quietly watched Dean finish polishing Baby.

The silence actually lasted for so long Dean was startled a little when Cas broke it.

“I had never seen you do that,” the angel commented, and Dean looked up to find Cas watching him closely, a tiny, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of the angel’s mouth, and Dean wasn’t really sure how to read that, “It was... pleasing to look at.”

It took Dean a second to get what Cas was talking about.

“What, the dancing?”

Cas nodded slowly, that small smile still on his lips, and Dean suddenly felt his face heating up again.

Damn it.

“What, that was nothing. It wasn’t even…” He shrugged, unsure of what to say, because really, he hadn’t even been properly dancing, just wiggling around a bit. He couldn’t even really dance, that being the reason why when Dean had had to go with Lisa to her cousin’s wedding, she had made him take a few classes with her, just so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself basically.

He’d hated every second of it, but the teacher had been kind of a bitch who took every little thing way too seriously, impatient and rude for no freaking reason, so maybe that had played a part in it. Also, all they’d learned how to do was slow dancing to classic music, which just wasn’t fun at all.

But he had loosened up a bit to dancing after it, that much was true. Still, he couldn’t really _dance_ ; it wasn’t even his thing. He just liked music, and he caught up with tempo pretty well, but maybe that was because he used to play the guitar, back at Sonny’s when he had been in his early teens. But that had been ages ago and he had been pretty young. He didn’t even remember much of it now; he actually doubted he could play anything in a guitar if he ever got his hands on one today. He hadn’t touched one since then, and he doubted muscle memory would do him any good with this.

Anyway, bottom line was, he couldn’t really dance.

“I liked it,” Cas commented, and Dean actually shook his head at him, chuckling, because this was actually getting a little ridiculous.

“I’m not…” He shook his head, pausing as an idea formed in his head. It was a little ridiculous, but for some reason it had a smirk taking over his lips as he wondered if he should really dare to follow through with it. Cas seemed to sense the change in the hunter’s mood because he paused himself, a confused and clearly curious frown taking place in his brows once more as he tilted his head again, a silent question in his eyes.

Before Cas could ask any sort of question out loud, though, Dean held one hand up in a wordless request that he wait just a little bit, using one of the damp rags he still had lying around from drying the Impala to try and get some of the wax off his hand before he went to fiddle with his iPod once more. He winced at how slimy the screen was, almost sticky, from the last time he’d touched it with his hands dirty, but after rubbing the screen with a cloth a few times to be able to clean it enough so he could read the words displayed for him and it could recognize his skin dragging over it, he finally managed to find the artist he wanted.

He didn’t have any dance music in his iPod, like at all, much less anything you could actually slow dance to, so he went with the closest candidate he could think of. And, well, if Cas wasn’t going to judge him over Taylor Swift, then Dean figured maybe Ed Sheeran wasn’t crossing a line either.

He pressed play on the artist list and the soft, calm beginning chords of _Give Me Love_ started filling the air a moment later, and Dean’s smirk widened a little at just how confused Cas looked right then.

The hunter walked over to the angel, holding his hand out.

Cas didn’t move.

“What are you doing?” the angel asked, and he was so clearly lost Dean actually let out a chuckle, because damn if it wasn’t amusing. Cas looked almost scared if he was honest, wide eyes looking at the hunter like he had suddenly gone mad, which really wasn’t that far off if Dean really thought about it.

It was cute.

“Just… come here,” Dean insisted, his arm still stretched toward the angel, who eyed the offered hand like it might bite him somehow, “Before I realize how ridiculous this is.”

Cas still looked unsure of what to do, hesitation clear in everything about his stance, but he ended up breaking in the end, at last leaning away from the table, taking a very slow and hesitant step forward and lifting a hand to grab Dean’s. He did it completely wrong, too; he literally just grabbed Dean’s hand like he was gonna shake it or something, and he still did it really freaking awkwardly. It was the wrong angle, and he didn’t rest it against the hunter’s like Dean had been expecting him to, but hey, it was Cas, so of course he would do that.

Dean adjusted their hands a little and then tugged at Cas’ slightly, gently pulling the angel forward, and Cas let himself be moved with little resistance, stepping forward until he was pretty much standing chest to chest with Dean, though with a few inches still separating them. Dean could work with that, he believed.

Only it didn’t work like Dean had planned it to.

For once, Cas didn’t really know how to follow tempo. Like, at all. At first Dean tried to just sway him a little, telling him to step along and in time with Dean, following the song’s tempo, but Cas just didn’t seem to pick it up as easily as Dean could. He moved too sharply, too stiffly, and honestly, he looked so lost Dean actually felt a little bad. Sure, while he did have a pretty good posture and all that, he was also as rigid as a freaking tree, so there was no getting him to sway too well.

Dean had to admit, though, it was kind of funny to see him try, especially the troubled, annoyed frown that formed heavily in the angel’s eyebrows when he couldn’t do something or had no idea how to copy something Dean was doing. He looked so concentrated it was actually pretty freaking adorable, and Dean knew he shouldn’t feel this way but he had to actually hold back a chuckle when the frustrated frown took on truly immense proportions.

They did have fun, though. Cas didn’t look annoyed for too long when Dean couldn’t hold back a chuckle at his countless failed attempts, and eventually the angel did start to loosen up a bit, getting the hang of at least swaying with Dean leading him.

Attempting a spin had been a mistake, but once more, it was very endearing to see Cas’ concentrated look turn into pure confusion as Dean had tried to make him turn around and just literally awkwardly spinning slowly with unsure steps, fixing the hunter a look when he couldn’t hold back another chuckle.

Seriously, it was adorable.

Still, in the end Dean gave up on trying to actually dance, the amusing atmosphere dissolving into something heavier somehow, calmer, so all they ended up doing was actually swaying slowly as _Give Me Love_ gave place to _Kiss Me_ , which gave place to _Photograph,_ and then on came _Thinking Out Loud._

And they just kept swaying, Cas’ arms wrapped around Dean’s neck because the hunter was the taller one, Dean with his arms around Cas’ waist, their fronts pressed against each other’s, Cas’ head tucked under Dean’s chin as they moved, slowly and without any rhythm, but still it was calming, and Dean couldn’t help but smile as he closed his eyes, just enjoying Cas’ heat as it seeped into him where their bodies met, the words from the song floating almost eerily in the air around them, soft and calm in the background.

_I’m thinking about how people fall in love in mysterious ways._

_Maybe just the touch of a hand._

_Well, me, I fall in love with you every single day._

_And I just wanna tell you I am._

Cas’ arms tightened around him, and the angel turned a little to nuzzle his face closer into Dean’s throat, dragging his lips against the skin there in lazy, feather-light kisses that had Dean sighing happily. He responded to those with kisses to the side of Cas’ head, nuzzling the angel’s soft hair as they moved.

As the song went on, though, Dean couldn’t help but let the words reaching his ears get to him, because how could he not?

It was in moments like this that Dean realized just how terrifyingly far he had fallen for Cas; how happy the angel made him and just how much it would destroy him to lose this. The words Alastair had said to him in that nightmare, about how this was bound to end eventually, how he would screw it up in the end just like he did with everything else in his life, had haunted him ever since that day and he couldn’t quite push those fears away now that they had actually taken hold in his mind.

And now, as they echoed inside his head once more, Dean was suddenly getting self-conscious about this whole dancing idea, and he just hoped Cas wouldn’t read too much into it, into the song playing into the background, because maybe that would be too much for the angel, and the last thing Dean wanted was to overwhelm Cas somehow and scare him off.

He should really have thought the song choices through, shouldn’t he?

But Cas wasn’t freaking out. He was still there, slowly swaying along with Dean, still holding him tightly and nuzzling at the hunter’s neck as if there was nothing wrong and that had to mean something, right?

_I’m thinking about how people fall in love in mysterious ways._

_And maybe it’s all part of a plan._

_Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes, hoping that you’ll understand._

_But baby now, take me into your loving arms._

_Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars._

Cas raised his head then, kissing Dean’s cheek for only a second before moving his mouth to the side slowly, his lips pressing lightly against the hunter’s, and Dean decided not to think too much of it then, not to dwell on it too much right now, not while he still had Cas in his arm like this, instead just enjoying the feel of Cas’ mouth against his, of the angel’s tongue inside his mouth, of the seraph’s muscles under his hands, warm and solid as their bodies were pressed flush against each other.

He felt happy, warmth flooding his chest and making him content, so he pushed all those thoughts away from now. He wanted to enjoy this, to cherish every single precious second he had with Cas while he could. The bond was thrumming, buzzing happily between them and Dean just let himself get lost in the feeling coming from it. He knew some of the warmness was coming from Cas and that thought alone was enough to set his mind at ease for the time being.

Closing his eyes, Dean just let his body move on its own accord, feeling light and careless for the first time in years, tightening his hold on Cas a little and kissing the side of the angel's head again. The warmth was making him almost drunk, and he actually opened his mouth to whisper something into Cas' ears, to spill the very thoughts he'd been so careful not to share with Cas until now, to just freaking tell the angel about all the happy, bubbly feelings welling up in his chest right then.

But fortunately he caught himself before an actual sound could come out, pausing for a second before instead he delivered another light, short kiss to the angel's head. He cursed himself in his head, and from then on concentrating on keeping his mouth shut before he did something he'd regret. What the hell had that been about?

_Oh, darling, place your head on my beating heart._

_I’m thinking out loud._

_That maybe we found love right where we are._

_Oh, baby, we found love right where we are._

_And we found love right where we are._

They didn’t move right away after that song was over, even as silence took over the room because all the Ed Sheeran Dean had in his iPod had already played. They just stood there for a while, trading silent, light kisses here and there, and somehow that was enough to make Dean feel better; to send some of the ugly thoughts in his head away for the time being.

Still, at some point their little bubble was burst and Dean begrudgingly had to pull away from Cas, and he didn’t fail to notice the angel’s hesitance to let him go. He smiled down at Cas, leaning down to kiss him briefly yet again, cupping his face and delivering a soft caress to the seraph’s cheek with his thumb before the hunter finally managed to step away from the angel, because he still wasn’t done with Baby and he should probably get back to that now.

Cas perched himself up on the table by the side as Dean finished working on the Impala, honestly feeling a little dazed. His entire body felt lighter, this weird happy feeling settling in his chest, making him feel warm all over and smile like an idiot for no freaking reason, and he could only hope Cas didn’t notice any of it. He tried to stay turned away from the angel just in case, facing the Impala most of the time while making her shine with the wax he carefully applied to her perfect black paint. He could only hope not much of it spilled into the bond.

When he was done, he took a step away from the Impala, going to stand right before her, admiring his work, feeling pride blooming inside his chest, maybe a little more than usual because Cas was there to see his masterpiece. She looked beautiful, just as she should be, just as she deserved. Silently, he promised her that he would never neglect her this way again, giving her hood a gentle pat before finally turning back around to look at Cas.

And it was only then that he realized Cas was no longer paying attention to him.

No, the angel was looking down at something he was holding in his hand, an odd look on his face. His brows were furrowed, but there was awe in his eyes, surprise clearly filling his expression as he examined whatever it was that he was holding, twisting it around in his hold, as if changing the angle from which he examined the object would somehow make it more believable, more real somehow.

A black feather.

Dean paused, frozen, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t even thought about what he’d tell Cas when he’d left the bag there, or about what the angel would say about the feathers if the hunter ever told him about them at all. But Cas hadn’t been supposed to see them now, because the angel had been supposed to be asleep back in their room, and not have come here while Dean had been working on Baby. Dean hadn’t even spared it a thought when he’d put the bag aside to look at the feathers later, because he hadn’t even imagined Cas would wake up so soon and come here.

So of course Dean suddenly felt ridiculously nervous, because he still had no freaking idea if this was offensive to angels in any way; if he’d done something terrible and that would make Cas angry or sad or something by keeping those feathers without saying anything to him.

The thought that he might have already screwed everything up just as he’d been afraid he would during the past few weeks crossed his mind, but Dean pushed it away quickly. Fuck, he was already growing paranoid.

“Where did you get these?” There was no edge to Cas’ words, so that was good. He sounded simply confused and curious, and there was something else in there that Dean didn’t want to look too much into, but that resembled sorrow a little too closely, a hint of something heavy slipping into the angel’s voice, a note of sadness that the hunter couldn’t quite ignore. Dean wasn’t sure what exactly it was about, though, because Cas was back to shutting him out and he couldn’t feel anything coming from the angel right now.

“From you,” Dean replied, and then realized that answer could have been a lot better than that. He mentally face palmed, calling himself an idiot in his head. Of course the feather was Cas’, damn it, and obviously the angel knew that. And that hadn’t been what Cas had asked, anyway. _Get a grip, Winchester._ “And from other angels, I guess. I mean, over the years, when you popped up, or someone else, sometimes Sam, Bobby and I would find these on the floor. Bobby said they could be useful for spells, so we started keeping them. They were in that bag in the Impala’s trunk, but then that night weeks ago you said all those things about, you know, adding feathers to the nest, and about your wings. And I, well… I kinda wanted to look through at again after that, now that I know which ones are yours. Because, you know, I didn’t know which ones were before. I just… I always… I mean, I never…”

Dean really wasn’t sure where he had been going with that, so he let himself fall quiet, his voice lingering in the air for a few seconds before a tense, loaded silence took over the room. The hunter was watching the angel was careful eyes, measuring his expression, trying to guess what Cas’ reaction to all of this would be, expectant and unsure, but he found the angel’s face hard to read, so instead he just waited, shifting nervously again and already feeling anxiety bubbling up in his stomach the longer the heavy pause stretched on between them.

Cas’ expression didn’t give much away, especially not when the angel had his head turned slightly away as he looked over to where the now open bag still resided beside him on the table, his face partially hidden from view from where Dean was standing. The angel’s body was stiff, unmoving, frozen so perfectly he might as well be a statue, his hand still firmly gripping the black feather in his hand. Dean almost wanted to ask him not to hold it so tightly, because a part of it seemed to have folded a little already, but he held the words back.

Anxiety building up even more, now spilling over in his stomach and actually making the hunter feel nauseous, Dean took a few steps toward the angel, swallowing a few times until finally he felt he could manage to speak again. “Cas… I’m so sorry I never told you we had them. I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t know if—”

The words died in Dean’s throat when finally Cas turned around to look at him again, because the look on the angel’s face was definitely not something he had been expecting to see, not only right then, but ever in his freaking life.

Cas’ eyes were _shining_.

Dean was so shocked he couldn’t manage words; all he could do was stand there as Cas let himself fall from the table, swiftly getting to his feet, the black feather still clutched tightly in his hand as he closed the distance between them in three determined steps and yanked Dean forward in a kiss that was so unexpected Dean didn’t even close his eyes at first.

The shock did wear off eventually, but he only had the chance to kiss Cas back for a few seconds before the angel was pulling away from him. Cas’ face was still pretty close, though, their foreheads almost touching, breaths still mingling together as they left their mouths. And the angel's eyes were still shiny, filled with unshed tears that Dean still had no idea how to even process in that moment. He was seeing Cas _cry_ , and he had no freaking idea what to do or think of it.

And Cas wasn’t saying anything, so Dean was kind of freaking out, because he had no idea how to understand the angel’s reaction. He didn’t seem angry, though, so that was good, but Dean was still terribly confused, and honestly a little worried.

“Cas?” Dean asked, frowning, “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“Some of these feathers, they are indeed mine, Dean. From the time…” Cas seemed to actually choke up a bit, taking in a breath and shaking his head a little, as if feeling the need to organize his thoughts somehow, another unusual behavior for the angel that only confused the hunter even more, “An angel’s feathers, our wings, as I’ve told you before, are a manifestation of our Grace, as they are created by the sole energy of our essence. When our feathers fall, when the direct connection to an angel’s power is severed, they come forth to this plane as that energy fades. So little of my Grace remains within them it’s no surprise I could not sense you had them, and the energy continues to fade more and more over time. But even after it’s gone, even after all the years, a trace of my power still lingers in it, like a faded mark, almost like a handprint.”

For a second, Dean was still confused by Cas’ reaction, still frowned confusedly at the angel, waiting for further explanation.

Until it clicked.

The feathers, the ones Dean had kept in the Impala’s trunk for years now, one of which Cas was holding in his hand _right now_ , right there in front of their faces—they had _traces of Cas’ Grace in them._

Dean felt like an idiot for not thinking about it sooner, for not even considering this at any point, but honestly, it had never even crossed his mind that Cas’ feathers could be the very thing they had been looking for to finally be able to track Cas’ Grace.

Because they could do that, right? Find Cas’ Grace through his feathers?

Hope, potent and strong, filled his insides as he breathed out, “Can we track your Grace with them?” _Please tell me we can._

“I’ve never heard of anything like this being done,” Cas replied, shaking his head lightly, but Dean didn’t let his hope deflate just then, because Cas’ reaction had to mean something, and the angel’s voice wasn’t deadpan, wasn’t the tone he used when he was skeptical about something. No, he sounded hopeful himself, his voice almost shaky, and that was all Dean needed to actually believe there was a way for them to fix this one now. “However,” The angel nodded lightly, and small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, tugging it up a bit, “It might be possible. There might be something in Heaven’s archives about this, a spell, something. They must have tried to track down a rogue angel like this somehow, at some point.”

“Heaven’s archives?” Dean asked, because he hadn’t even know Heaven had something like that, had never heard of anything like it. It kind of made sense, though, if he really thought about it. Of course the angels would keep track of things like that, probably had some secret super library in Heaven or something where they kept their dangerous spells and other magical stuff. It sounded a lot like them, at least.

And as it turned out, he was right.

“Heaven keeps an archive of all powerful, useful or dangerous spells and enchantments, plus several other artifacts, in case their use might at some point turn out to be necessary for the Host. I doubt a spell like this could be found on Earth.”

Dean only saw one problem with that plan, though.

“I thought you couldn’t get into Heaven. How the hell could we find the spell if it’s there?”

“I’ll ask Hannah to look for me. I cannot go into Heaven myself, but I hope she would be willing to help me.”

Dean wasn’t as hopeful as Cas was about that one, because it had already been a very big of a dick move from Hannah to tell Cas he wasn’t allowed in Heaven at all, but well, what other choice did they have but to break into Heaven themselves? And that one couldn’t possibly turn out well. And anyway, Hannah had seemed pretty willing to help them lately, and she had looked to be truly worried about Cas when she’d been to the Bunker after she’d driven Dean here all the way from Colorado just because Cas had asked her to make sure he was fine. Maybe that was because she had the hots for Cas, Dean thought bitterly, recalling the whole incident Cas had told him about, when Hannah had tried to seduce Cas by parading in front of him naked, but Dean pushed his jealousy down because really, this wasn’t the time for that. Dean really wanted to assume all the other angels were the ones to blame for Cas’ expulsion from Heaven, and apparently Hannah wasn’t too bitter about being turned down, so she would probably agree to help them. Dean could only hope she would be able to pull this off if that was the case, because he was pretty sure the others wouldn’t be happy if they knew she was helping Cas.

“Do you think we might find something in the Men of Letters’ files, though? I mean, they have a lot of spells we wouldn’t have expected them to have. Those guys really knew where to look for the rare stuff.” Dean knew for a fact that their library had a ton of spells that no human should have, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how they had gotten their hands on any of it.

Cas didn’t seem too hopeful about it, though. “I highly doubt it, but it would do no harm for us to look. I’ll call Hannah anyway, though.”

“Yeah, that’s our best bet, anyway,” Dean nodded lightly, “I’ll just finish cleaning up here, then we can go check the library.”

Cas nodded as well, and then his eyes fell down to where the feather was still resting in his hand, a forlorn look in his eyes, an emotion very close to grief taking over his heavy gaze. Dean felt a tug at his heart at the sight and stepped forward, resting his hand under the angel’s chin and pushing at it lightly, a silent request for the angel to look up at him.

When he did, Dean leaned down, kissing him lightly on the lips, resting their foreheads together once he pulled away. “You’ll get them back,” he whispered. “I promise you, Cas. We’ll find your Grace, and then you’ll have your wings back and...” He licked his lips, swallowing once before adding, “And our baby will be safe.” The relief those words brought to him already made him feel lighter, even if they still didn’t have anything solid to go on just yet.

But they would. Now they actually would, he was sure of it.

Cas swallowed, not looking entirely convinced, but he ended up nodding anyway as the hand that wasn’t holding the feather slid up to rest on Dean’s stomach, palm stretched and pressing against it lightly. Dean fell quiet then, giving Cas a silent moment so he could steady himself. It was only when the heavy look in the seraph's eyes had dissolved a little and his shoulders looked less stiff, when at last the angel breathed out a sigh and let his hand fall back to his side that Dean allowed himself to move away from him. The angel turned around then, walking back over to the table and pausing in front of it. He lifted the feather a little, looking down at it for a moment as he rearranged it, making it straight again, before placing it back inside the bag, his hands careful and movements almost calculated, like he was afraid the feather might break or tear somehow. He closed the zipper slowly, and only then did he turn back to face Dean again.

“My phone is in our room,” the angel announced, “I’ll prepare the spell to reach Hannah in Heaven and call her now. I’ll wait for you in the library if you have not returned by the time I'm done talking to her.”

Dean nodded, and then watched as Cas walked away, quickly disappearing from sight as he left the garage through the door a few feet away.

Dean quickly got back to work then, cleaning up the things he had used on Baby, calmly putting everything away where he’d gotten it to give Cas time to reach and talk to Hannah, organizing the garage neatly until there was no evidence of what he’d done apart from Baby’s shininess and the wet floor under her, a big puddle of water spreading around beneath her in all directions, calmly reflecting the lights above her, but that would dry soon enough.

Oh, and the bag of angel feathers on the table.

Dean felt lighter somehow as he moved around. This was something, really something, an actual fucking lead that could take them to Cas’ Grace. He couldn’t help but smile as he eyed the bag when he was done, opening it again and glancing inside at the feathers, making a mental note that they should probably sort out the ones that were Cas’ from the others. There were quite a lot of them, and over half of them weren’t black. He felt so glad that Bobby had told them to keep all the feathers they found he couldn’t help but send a silent ‘thanks’ upwards, even though he knew Bobby couldn’t hear him in Heaven. But he did it anyway.

Shaking his head, a smile still lingering on his lips, Dean closed the bag again, picking it up from the table to take it with him to the library so they could sort through all the feathers there and start their research. And who knew, maybe they wouldn’t need Hannah’s help and would end up stumbling upon a spell in a book.

He could only hope. He still wasn’t too happy about involving Hannah.

But then again, this was not the time for him to be jealous. Not with Cas’ life hanging in the balance, as well as his own and their baby’s.

The lights of the garage flickered a little as he paused by the door, and he frowned, but shook it off a moment later. The Bunker wasn’t haunted, of course not, or at least not since Linda had taken Kevin’s ghost with her; the old wiring must just be acting up a little. He still waited a beat to see if it would happen again, though, but of course it didn't. Shaking his head again, he said a silent goodbye to the Impala, smiling at how gorgeous she looked one last time before he turned off the lights, swinging the strap of the feathers bag over his shoulder as he walked out of the garage.

***~*~*~*~***

Somewhere close to Lebanon, Kansas, in the underground garage of the Men of Letters’ Bunker, a few steps away from the very carefully tended to black, 1967 Chevrolet Impala, stood a lone figure, silent and invisible. The figure had summoned the angel Castiel from his rest, and then watched with interested eyes as the seraph had interacted with Dean Winchester, examining their every move, listening to their every word, finding it once more hard not to notice just how much they had both changed over the past few years. They had grown a lot, especially Castiel.

However, not all of those changes were positive.

The light of Castiel’s essence was terribly faded, a blatant contrast to the original state of his power only six years prior, having lost its previous potent, healthy brightness as the Grace that now resided within the seraph's vessel struggled to adapt into the precarious, forced connection with his soul. It was not a perfect match, obviously, as it was to be expected from an essence that was not truly Castiel’s own. No angel could claim another’s Grace without consequence, and at one point the energy that was keeping him alive would be the one to kill him.

At least in theory, anyway.

The Mark of Cain, as it was called now, shone eerily from Dean Winchester’s arm, red and angry, muttering curses and words of hatred; a potent desire for death and revenge fueled by the sharp, insistent pain of betrayal coming from what was guarded within the barrier it held firmly in place. Dean could not feel it clearly, could not fully understand all that entered his own mind coming from the Mark, but it was all clearly there. Billions of years later, all that still managed to slip into this plane was no more than pure anger, so strong and constant it was no wonder the curse could easily drive even the strongest, purest creature into madness. Dean Winchester was indeed fighting the Mark remarkably well for a human, but even he could not resist forever. He would break eventually.

Again, in theory.

And yet, the chord between Castiel and Dean Winchester, the bridge that connected their souls, still shone brightly, strong in a way that seemed almost impossible in their current situation, energy flowing back and forth between them without pause, essences so familiar with one another that they might as well belong to the same being.

But what truly called for attention when glancing upon the pair was the extra soul inside Dean Winchester, so clearly the essence of a hybrid—not as powerful as an angel, and yet so much more than a human. The nephilim was healthy, soul bright and strong, slowly developing in Dean’s womb, at the moment safe from the Mark and anything else that might wish to harm it. The human’s body had been altered, organs rearranged to accommodate the life growing inside of him, as it was supposed to happen when a male bore a child.

It had been thousands of years since the last time something of this sort had happened on Earth, and it was quite a sight to see.

Dean and Castiel had not lingered in the garage for long after the angel had discovered the feathers. He’d soon left to contact another angel in Heaven—Hannah, the seraph who was in charge now—and then minutes after that Dean had walked out of the same room carrying the small bag filled with angel feathers.

And as the pregnant human disappeared from sight, the figure did not move or vanish, instead choosing to linger in the darkened room alone, having been completely silent throughout the entire scene that had just unfolded and having done nothing more than simply watch everything happen with a fond, proud smile.

They would figure it out. The Winchesters always did.

***~*~*~*~***

There was no sight of Cas in the library when Dean came back from the garage.

Not thinking much of it, he’d placed the bag onto the library table as he took in the bowl that rested on it, the remains of whatever spell Cas had cooked up to reach Hannah in Heaven still visible in it, a coating of dark blue covering almost every inch of the inside of the bowl. Around it, a few ingredients were spread over the wooden surface, chopped up or dusted, depending on what it was and how it had been prepared.

Cas was probably in their room on the phone with Hannah right now if he’d left everything so carelessly placed around on the table, most likely just eager to talk to the other angel, so Dean should probably get himself busy around here while he did that. However, the hunter chose to take care of the little mess later, because there was something else he wanted to do first. He still felt almost giddy with the news, so he took his own time to call Sam to let his brother and Charlie know about the new development in the search for Cas’ Grace, so they could also keep their eyes open for anything that might be helpful to them, looking out for any possible way to track an angel’s Grace through their feathers. Sam had sounded truly optimistic over the phone as he’d heard the idea, and Dean couldn’t help but smile himself. He had wished to hear good news just a few hours earlier, and now they actually got it.

He could barely believe it.

After the call was done, Dean started to gather the things from the table to put the unused ingredients where they had been stored and throw away what was left and could no longer be used, as well as clean the bowl, but he didn’t get to do much more than separate the ingredients that could be saved from the ones that couldn’t before Cas emerged from the hallway. There was a clear brightness in the angel’s eyes, a lightness to his steps that already had Dean feeling way more hopeful than he probably should without even knowing what Hannah had said.

As it turned out, Hannah did think it was possible to use Cas’ feathers to track his Grace and she was willing to help them with looking for a spell that might be able to accomplish that in Heaven’s archives. Of course, no one else could know about it because apparently all angels truly despised Cas and would rather watch him die when his Grace burned out than help him, so honestly, Dean had completely pushed his jealously aside now and was just really freaking relieved that there was at least one angel up there who still cared about Cas at all. He had never really liked Hannah, but this time he actually appreciated her, naked parading aside.

Cas had also prayed to Gabriel, but unsurprisingly the archangel didn’t answer. They both chose to understand the radio silence as either the archangel being too busy with his questionable side projects or him not being able to help with this as well and not having a spell to give them right away, preferring to just not waste his precious time with a visit to simply tell them he couldn’t help. Dean wasn’t sure which of those made him more uneasy.

After everything Cas had used for the spell had been cleared away from the table, they had sorted through the feathers in the bag, because of course Dean knew not all 23 of them were Cas’, considering the wide variety of colors. Still, Dean had been surprised to find out that not all the black feathers were Cas’ either, as he had previously imagined, but maybe he should have thought about it before, since the black ones had different shades.

They were eight of those in total, the three lighter, more grayish ones belonging to Anna and the one that had no shine to it at all having come from freaking Uriel of all angels. The other four were Cas’, plus three gray ones, but according to Cas the gray ones might not do them any good, since they had fallen before he had rebelled and his wings had turned black. When an angel’s wings changed color so did their Grace’s energy or whatever, something about natural frequency and all that, and maybe a tracking spell wouldn’t work with them, but they still kept them with Cas’ black ones in a separate smaller bag just in case.

From the remaining ones, the two moss green ones were Zachariah’s, the clear blue one Hannah’s, the three purple ones Balthazar’s, the golden one Gabriel’s, the red one Hester’s, the darker blue one Raphael’s, the silver one Inias’ and the two very light green ones were Gadreel’s.

Dean kind of wanted to throw the silver one away, but he refrained from doing it or mentioning that thought out loud, because he knew it would be way too petty and he was above that.

Yeah.

And after the feathers were dealt with, Dean and Cas got to work, going through the library bookshelves looking for all the titles that could possibly hold the spell they were looking for.

Of course, about half an hour after they'd sat down at the table and silence had settled over them Dean’s thoughts started to drift a little as his eyes danced over the pages of the book placed before him, and the first thing that started to settle in his gut when the euphoria of finally, after so fucking long, figuring out a possible way to track Cas’ Grace started fade, was guilt.

If he’d had the balls to tell Cas about the feathers sooner, then maybe they could have found the angel's Grace already and not be in this situation right now. Cas had brought up the subject of the feathers way before Cain, before even leaving on his road trip with Charlie to check some of the results on the girl’s list, so why the hell hadn’t Dean told him then? Why the fuck had he not even considered there might have been a solution there, since Cas had actually fucking said his wings were a manifestation of his Grace?

They could have looked for this spell sooner, maybe even found Cas’ Grace already, and that way maybe the aftermath of the whole thing with Cain wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe having Cas’ original Grace would not have allowed Dean to slip into that damn coma; maybe there would have been no illusions or hallucinations at all; maybe Cas wouldn’t be so freaking close to dying because of the damn Mark.

Fuck, Dean had screwed up big time with this one, and anything that happened from now because of Cas’ Grace and the Mark would be his own freaking fault, even more than it had already been before.

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” The words were out before he could even realize he had been preparing to speak at all, and the angel looked up from his own book, looking both startled and confused, frowning at Dean as clearly he had absolutely no idea what the hunter was referring to. Swallowing, Dean shook his head lightly, “I didn’t… I should have told you I had the feathers. I was afraid it might be… offensive or something, to keep the feathers without, you know, asking permission or whatever, so I never got around to telling you.”

Cas seemed even more confused by the words, his frown deepening a little. “It’s not offensive, Dean,” he replied, and he actually sounded a little surprised, shaking his head lightly, “Our wings are private, indeed, but only because they’re a direct channel to our Grace. Once the feathers fall that connection is severed. There’s nothing offensive about keeping them.”

Well, wouldn’t it have made their lives so much better and easier if Dean had known about that before, because then he wouldn’t have been such an idiot and kept the fact that he had the very thing that could help them find Cas’ Grace from the angel. He had caused both of them and their child so much fucking suffering, because he had been too much of a freaking coward to bring it up at all, or too damn slow to realize that the feathers could be the solution they had so desperately been looking for.

And to make it all even freaking worse, Dean hadn’t even meant for Cas to find out about the feathers today. If he hadn’t stopped his research when he had, Cas would have woken up sooner than he’d expected and Dean wouldn’t have needed to look for some other way to occupy himself, or if he had decided on something else and not gone to tend to the Impala, or had only washed her and not cleared the trunk as well, they would still be in the same exact situation they’d been in this morning—with absolutely no lead on Cas’ Grace.

Fuck, he hadn’t even meant to leave the bag out of the trunk at all; his intention had been to put it back inside as soon as he had been done with organizing everything. If he had realized he’d forgotten it out soon, or if he'd left any other bag out by accident, then Cas also wouldn’t have seen it at all, and their only lead would still be buried under all their hunting supplies in the Impala’s trunk, hidden and forgotten.

“Yeah, but I could have made our lives a lot freaking easier if I just had told you I had them in the first place. Fuck, we might even have your Grace already and not have gone through such a rough patch with Cain.”

Dean definitely didn’t deserve the soft, almost sad look Cas gave him right then, head tilting a little to the side as his frown vanished. “Dean, this is not your fault. None of it is.”

The hunter let out a huff in response.

“You did not know we could use my feathers. Even I did not know. The idea never occurred to me, so of course it would not occur to you.”

“Because obviously you didn’t even imagine I had some stashed away anywhere. I mean, how could you? But if I had fucking told you—”

“Then maybe I would think of it, yes, but what does admitting that accomplish?” Cas’ voice was sharper than Dean had expected, and the hunter paused, a little surprised, but he quickly told himself that he deserved the harshness right now. The angel seemed to sense the shift in the hunter’s posture, because he let out a breath as he shook his head, and when he spoke again his voice was much calmer, more controlled, and into it slipped a hint of tiredness Dean couldn’t quite ignore, “It does not matter how or when we came across this idea. If this does work, then all we should focus on is that my original Grace will be able to keep the Mark at bay more easily and the nephilim will be safe. That’s all that truly matters.”

Dean really wished he could just make himself believe those words, just accept them and stomp down the burning guilt in his chest, but of course it wasn’t that easy.

The angel seemed to sense his words hadn’t been enough. He reached out slowly, his hand covering Dean’s where it lay in front of him on the table, warm and solid as the seraph squeezed the hunter’s a little, almost reassuringly. “Dean, you already have too much placed on your shoulders. Do not try to take blame for this as well, please.”

Cas’ eyes were so sad, almost begging, that Dean had no other choice but to sigh and nod his head numbly in agreement, even though he didn’t really mean it. He didn’t feel better about any of this, nor did those words take any of the weight of the guilt he felt off his shoulders, the tight pressure in his chest still very much present, but he was at least willing to try not to think too much about it if it meant not having Cas look at him like that.

The angel looked relieved at the response, and Dean raised their joined hands to his mouth so he could place a kiss to Cas’ knuckles. The angel smiled softly as he did it, and Dean couldn’t help but smile in response.

They both went back to their books after that, and for over an hour Dean actually managed to concentrate on the words, pushing any stray thoughts away and telling himself that those could wait. Cas’ Grace, however, couldn’t, and that should have his sole attention right now.

That actually worked, but not for too long, and at some point his mind started to wander again, at first toward the guilt from before concerning the feathers, and for some reason it was harder to just ignore it then.

He’d tbeen trying to ignore the dark cloud that had moved to hover over his thoughts for weeks now, instead yet again foing his best to force his mind to focus on the book he was still trying to read, or when that didn’t really work simply on the relief that actually having a lead on Cas’ Grace brought to him, but once more that was a lot easier said than done.

And of course, trying not to constantly kick himself mentally over the whole issue with the feathers meant that he had to think about something else, and that meant that soon enough his thoughts were heading back to the very terrible territory he had been so desperately trying to avoid lately, but that had become even more alluring after the excitement over the feathers had passed and he actually had a chance to think about whole thing back at the garage.

That whole dance thing hadn’t been supposed to mean anything, honestly. Dean hadn’t even thought the idea through when he’d held out his hand for Cas to take. It had been supposed to just be a silly thing to do because they were alone in the Bunker and no one would walk in on them; something that they could do without fear of being caught if Sam and Charlie were to somehow walk in at the wrong time. It hadn’t been supposed to be something big at all, and certainly not enough to make Dean lose a few nights of sleep over it as he could already guess was bound to happen now.

The thing was, he’d realized something then, while he had been holding Cas in his arms, while slowly swaying to the music with the angel pressed flush against him, not saying anything and yet just not feeling the need to, while simple getting lost in the warmth growing in his chest, feeling it spread all the way to his fingertips. Pure happiness had begun pumping through his bloodstream and he’d found himself wishing that moment wouldn’t end, which sounded all sorts of girly and he was aware of that, but it was the truth either way.

And okay, yeah, he’d known he loved Cas for a while now, of course he did. He’d known it for years, and back when he’d first realized it, lost in the endless forest of Purgatory, falling asleep every night with the fear of never finding Cas seeping through his bones and plaguing his every waking thought, it had been a very, very terrifying realization, but he was okay with it now. He had come to terms with his feelings for years now, so honestly that wasn’t really the reason why he was freaking out.

He hadn’t planned on actually voicing everything to Cas any time soon; to open his damn mouth to let all the mushy, girly thoughts that now so often ran through his head about what he and Cas had now; to just lay out how fucking much Cas meant to him for the angel to hear. He had this weird desire building in his gut to finally get it through the angel’s head that he was freaking family, but it wasn’t the same thing as it had been before now that they were together.

Because now Cas meant even more to Dean than he had months ago, which might have seemed impossible in his head before, but it was the truth now and he couldn’t deny it. Cas wasn’t just Dean’s best friend anymore. Cas had been one of the most important people in Dean’s life for a while now, but fuck, he had no words to say just how much more the angel had become over the past few months, and not just because Dean was currently pregnant with their child. He had no idea how he would ever fucking cope if he lost the angel, and that was exactly why he was struggling so much with this.

Honestly, he was terrified of scaring Cas away with all this. He had a strong feeling this would be too much for the angel, because even though sometimes he forgot about it, Cas was still new to Earth as a whole and he had very recently admitted that humanity was still a little overwhelming for him, so Dean had decided it would be best to hold his tongue on this one. It also didn’t help that he just couldn’t bring himself to ignore the fact that over the years (with a very recent example) Dean had learned that Cas had a very strong tendency to take flight without a warning when things got too rough, like after the Apocalypse, or after the whole thing with Naomi and the Angel Tablet, and then again after Omaha. What if this one turned out to be one of those times?

Because Cas had never really stuck around with them. Even when he’d rebelled against Heaven during the Apocalypse, or in Purgatory, or after Naomi, or even after they’d expelled Gadreel from Sam’s body. Cas just never stuck around, or at least he didn’t use to, but really, how hard would it be for Dean to screw up everything and cause the angel to leave again?

And who would fucking blame Cas, honestly? Dean just normally screwed up everything in his life, so it really wouldn’t be surprising if Cas decided to bail. Again, he didn’t deserve Cas at all, and a part of Dean was just waiting for the moment Cas would realize that.

That thought hurt, a lot, and he did his best not to look at Cas as it hit him, his eyes glued to the page before him but not actually reading any of the words. His hand rested on his stomach as he once more feared what something like that could possibly mean for their child, a sharp stab cutting through his heart just at the thought of it.

And these thoughts weren’t by any means new. He’d always been insecure about Cas, ever since they’d first gotten together, but for some reason all of a sudden it just felt a lot worse and he had no idea what had triggered it.

Well, actually he knew when it had started—after the illusion, after Cain. Subtly and trying not to call Cas’ attention to himself right now, he turned his head a little and glanced down at the Mark, still on his arm, silent and yet imposing, and he cursed at it inside his head, wondering just how fucking much the damn thing was toying with his thoughts right now. Was he actually going fucking crazy now? Or were his fears truly valid? He had no way to know, and of course that only made him feel even worse. Now the Mark was actually making him doubt the validity of his own thoughts and that perspective was truly terrifying.

Another glance across the table over at Cas told Dean that the angel hadn’t yet noticed his internal struggle, but he had no idea how long that would last. Cas could read him pretty well, especially now that they had a freaking mental link, so really he didn’t think it would take long until the angel figured out there was something wrong. It was a true wonder he hadn’t noticed it up until now.

But this wasn’t the time for this. Fuck, they didn’t have the luxury of wasting time, because the feathers were a lead, but they had no way to perform such a spell; they didn’t even know if that could be done for sure at all. Cas was still dying and the baby’s life was still on the line, so he had to stop being paranoid and focus on what was important right now.

Shaking his head lightly and taking in a deep, calming breath, Dean forced those thoughts out of his mind. That finally got Cas attention, and the angel looked up once more, frowning confusedly at the hunter with a silent question clear in his eyes, but Dean just shook his head a little and looked back down at his book, and fortunately the angel didn’t insist.

***~*~*~*~***

Just ignoring all the issues swimming around inside his head didn’t really work, and as the days passed, Dean found that pushing those thoughts away was a lot harder than it had ever been before. Several times he caught himself wondering if the Mark was really the one to blame for it; the one making sure fear haunted Dean’s every fucking waking second, slowly driving him mad.

If that really was the thing’s new plan, he couldn’t say it wasn’t working.

And as careful as Dean was trying to be with keeping all his worried thoughts to himself, even as he started to question his own damn sanity and blame the Mark for all of it, he was growing more and more worried that Cas was really going to pick up on it soon, which he definitely didn’t want to happen. Firstly, he didn’t want to get Cas even more worried than he already was about Dean’s mental health. And secondly, Dean had to figure out what was really happening in his head; to sort out his thoughts from the Mark’s influence and actually decide whether or not his fears were realistic. He couldn’t share any of it with Cas, or at least not right now, but with how insistent those worries were, with Alastair’s words constantly bouncing around in his mind on a daily basis, he was really starting to fear that maybe Cas might end up getting curious and probing at the bond to figure something out on his own, and Dean had no idea how to freaking block him if he did that; to hide the ugly thoughts plaguing his mind from the angel.

Again, paranoia was really settling into his mind.

At least Cas had not mentioned anything until now; had not in any moment looked like he knew there was something bothering Dean, except for a few concentrated minutes of very concentrated staring that Dean would catch here and there, but those had been happening for weeks now, ever since he had first woken up from his coma, and the angel hadn’t said anything about it at all when Dean caught him doing that, anyway. Dean was pretty sure he could file those moments away as Cas still being worried about Dean’s state because of the Mark, so the hunter was pretty sure he was safe on that one for the time being. Cas just didn’t seem capable of ignoring an issue like this one when it was bothering the hunter, so the fact that he hadn’t brought it up at all had to mean he wasn’t aware of it.

Honestly, Dean had to admit he was a little surprised with himself, and that feeling got more intense every time he thought back on what had happened at the garage. He knew he had almost blurted his whole freaking heart to Cas right then, all the girly thoughts he’d been so carefully keeping to himself had been very close to spilling from his tongue, and he had no idea what to make of that. It actually freaking scared him that he’d _wanted_ to say it then, _so fucking much_.

That had never happened before; well, at least not like that anyway. He’d never said anything like that to anyone before, ever. Not one single time in his life had those three little words jumped from his lips, not even once. Or maybe he’d done it when he was younger, maybe to his mother, but he didn’t remember it. And after that, he knew for sure he hadn’t said it, not to his father, not to his brother, not to anyone.

So he had no idea what to do with the fact that he’d wanted to say it to Cas right then; he didn’t even know what that meant about him. He had no idea how to deal with it, and it was freaking terrifying.

For some reason, the fact that he’d never said it to Sammy either also started to bother him, weighing heavily in his mind when he’d never even thought about it before, and honestly, now that he actually thought about it… he couldn’t actually understand why it was just so fucking hard for him to do it; just to freaking say it. It was just like one of those things he knew his brother already knew so he didn’t need to actually say it out loud, and it had always been like that so he didn’t want to be the one to change it. He’d never even tried to.

But for some reason he was thinking about it now, because Sam was his brother, his family, and sure, he knew Sammy knew how much he meant to his brother without Dean actually telling him, but why had Dean never said it out loud? What the hell was wrong with him?

And what about Cas? Dean was a master at letting his emotions spill into the bond, so had he done that already with this? Did Cas know just how damn far Dean had fallen and all the things he was so afraid of sharing and hadn’t said a thing? Could he feel Dean worrying over this and yet he hadn’t made a comment? What did that mean, then? Because if Cas knew what Dean was feeling and struggling with, then how was Dean supposed to read his silence? It couldn’t mean anything good, Dean quickly convinced himself of it as the days passed, anxiety building up in his gut, getting worse every time those thoughts as much as crossed his mind.

At some point, he had also started to wonder if the pregnancy hormones could be playing a part in this and making him confused somehow. He had never worried about this so much before so he didn’t immediately rule it out.

Clinging to the belief that maybe both the hormones and the damn Mark whispering into his ear and messing with his head were to blame for this, he’d done his best to try and shove it all away during the following days, to pretend like the whole thing wasn’t brothering him too much, pushing it back and into the dark corners of his mind whenever the unwanted thoughts resurfaced, especially when Cas was around. That was what he usually did with everything he didn’t want to deal with, anyway, so he wasn’t unfamiliar with it.

They didn’t hear from Hannah at all in the days that followed. And sure, maybe they shouldn’t rush her, considering that she was helping them against what all the other angels thought she should do and that they most likely wouldn’t be happy at all with her if they knew what she was getting up to behind their backs. Not to mention that digging up a spell like this one surely couldn’t be easy, because Heaven’s archives just sounded like a huge place and the hunter couldn’t even imagine just how much freaking stuff angels might have gathered during the freaking billions of years they’d been around. Hannah didn’t even know what exact spell she was looking for too. But Dean was still impatient, because there was not even a single mention in any of the Men on Letters’ books and files about any tracking spell that could find an angel’s Grace through the lingering trace of it in their feathers and that made him a little anxious.

But Cas seemed intent on finding something, though, even if he’d been skeptical about them being able to do that on their own just a few days ago. It was almost like the days they had spent waiting for Hannah to call again only made it down on the angel that this was an actual lead and suddenly he was throwing himself into research, even if he had seemed dubious about the Men of Letters actually having something that could help them at first. It was actually possible to see the hope in the angel’s eyes as he looked through book after book, how much he was hanging on to this whenever he glanced over at his phone, as if silently willing Hannah to call him to say she’d found a spell, and it made Dean want to believe it as well, to let himself hope that this would actually work. Finding Cas’ Grace would take such a weight off their shoulders; he was pretty sure they would even breathe lighter.

Because Sam and Charlie had apparently officially hit a dead end with the whole Book of the Damned thing. Of course, that didn’t mean they had stopped their research, but they had reached a point where they just knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere anymore, even if Sam still didn't want to admit that. The Book’s language was really impossible to translate, or at least it seemed like it to all of them, but for some reason Sam just didn’t want to take a longer break and work any more cases, claiming that a crazy ghost nun killing sinning, deceitful men who had sliced a damn finger off so her painter boyfriend could grind it and use it in his paint (seriously, like, what the fuck. What the actual, fucking  _fuck_ ) had been enough of a case for him for a while, even though Charlie was still insisting that hunting might do them both good and was keeping an eye out for other possible jobs. And Dean had a feeling he should be worried about Sam's refusal to give up on the Book, but than again that might not be the sole reason. They had another subject to search on now that they knew what to look for when it came to finding Cas’ Grace, as unlikely as the odds of them actually finding anything outside of Heaven’s archives seemed to be. But again, four heads working together was better than two, especially when one of those two actually slowly losing their sanity.

Crowley had dropped off the map completely for now and wouldn’t answer his phone, which could only lead them to believe that he either had lied about the witch or he just couldn’t find her, so that was giving Dean no hope at all on the whole Mark dilemma, but for now he chose not to think too much about it. They could summon the demon if he vanished for too long, but again, Dean wasn’t happy about going to Crowley for help and he would feel better if they waited a little on that one. They didn’t have a solid lead on the Book right now, so really, they should focus on what seemed more promising at the moment.

The feather spell was truly a light at the end of the tunnel for them. It had lifted Dean’s mood a lot more than he had even believed it possible just a few days ago, and he could clearly see the shift in Cas’ demeanor as well. It seemed like the dark, heavy cloud that had been hanging over their heads for weeks now was suddenly lighter. Even Sam and Charlie seemed pretty confident about it as they were also looking for a spell, but so far they had unsurprisingly found nothing at all on it, so they were apparently really at Hannah’s mercy on this one.

But somehow that wasn’t really discouraging.

Dean’s black outs had become pretty much rare, too, and they were growing less vivid, easier to break out of because almost instantly Dean knew it was happening and that nothing was truly real so he usually snapped out of it and came back to himself fairly quickly. Nightmares were also not happening often and finally he and Cas could sleep at the same damn time again, so things had finally started to look up for them. Cas was actually freaking resting now, and at last the dark bags under his eyes were getting clearer, which was a true relief, because honestly, Dean had been starting to get worried they had lingered for so long under the seraph’s eyes that they would become a permanent feature. For some reason even the bond felt lighter between them, which also seemed to put Dean in a good mood.

Also, finally, after over 17 freaking weeks, his morning sickness was finally becoming rarer, so that was also a reason for celebration.

Things stayed pretty much the same for a little over a week. Dean and Cas would wake up and eat the breakfast that Dean would cook for them, and every day without exception the angel would remind him of his vitamins even though Dean would never forget about taking them. Then Dean would call Sam to know how things were going on their side, and later on they would begin research, taking the necessary breaks over the day for food and sometimes taking a few hours to rest and watch some movie or something lying on Dean’s bed now that the mood in the Bunker was lighter and they felt like they could actually take a few pauses now and then.

They did end up watching the other two _The Hobbit_ movies, and Cas had liked those so much that they planned on watching the entire _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy soon.

They hadn’t done anything sexual at all during that entire time, though, and that was quickly starting to bother Dean, like an itch under his skin he couldn’t quite scratch, and although he wasn’t quite sure whether his sudden horniness came from the Mark or hormones (because that was a thing with pregnant women, wasn’t it? A sex drive or something?), he didn’t ask Cas about it at all, as horny as he might be getting lately. It really was a recent thing, because right after the whole thing with Cain and the Mark’s illusion Dean had felt too shaky for anything; his mind really hadn’t been in the right place and Dean had a feeling Cas had been able to sense that somehow, or maybe he'd just guessed it and had decided to keep a distance or something instead of bringing it up. Dean had felt glad for that a few weeks ago, but now he was feeling better and Cas still hadn’t made any move or said a thing about it, so of course Dean was getting self-conscious that maybe Cas just didn’t want sex with him, which brought back the whole paranoia issue he still didn’t know how to solve. They weren’t even taking showers together, for fucks sake, but as much as it bothered him, he couldn’t find it in himself to bring it up either.

Yeah, talking about things had really never been his strong suit.

He knew all that sounded ridiculous but every day that passed made that thought less evident and his worry a little more present.

It all remained the same, unchanging, the same routine every day.

That was, until June 5th.

Cas was in the library as usual, and Dean had just gotten out of the shower, alone as it seemed to be the norm at the moment. He ignored the uneasiness that thought brought to him as he walked across the hallway buck naked, intending to get dressed in their bedroom. Once he was inside the room he walked straight to the closed and pulled it open, quickly locating a clean pair of underwear in his top drawer and a pair of jeans he really liked, before he began looking for his black shirt, frowning when he didn’t immediately spot it on his side of the closet. He was looking through Cas’ half, wondering if maybe he’d just misplaced it when he washed it last week, when suddenly he caught himself once more staring at his image in the mirror on the closet door—more specifically, at his stomach. He was just a day over 18 weeks along at the moment, and every day now he would check his abdomen, as if expecting to one day just realize that he had a bump there that had appeared overnight or something, even if he knew that wouldn’t really happen like that.

Cas had said that he would probably start showing between 16 to 22 weeks, and he was in that window right now, so of course he was checking it frequently. Not that he actually expected to just wake up huge one day, but he was just looking for any changes, anything at all, even the smallest sign that he might start showing soon. The perspective of it was at the same time thrilling and terrifying.

He lifted his hand slowly in front of the mirror, doing what he did every day, but there wasn’t much expectation in the movement. He moved without really thinking, automatically even, resting his palm against his stomach just like usual, pressing against it lightly, applying just a bit of pressure over the muscles. He could see no difference from yesterday, so there probably wasn’t anything to feel.

Only today, there was.

He froze when he pressed his hand against his middle, because instead of soft skin covering relaxed muscles, he could feel an obvious resistance against his palm, one that was clearly more than normal. His stomach was much harder than it should be.

“Cas!” he called out, loud enough that he knew the angel would hear him from outside of the room, hoping the hallways would echo his voice enough that it would reach the angel out there in the library. Cas might already have felt something from the bond, anyway, so Dean was pretty sure the angel would be here soon. He wouldn’t go there himself, could not for the life of him make his legs move, so instead he just remained standing there before the mirror with both his hands pressed over his stomach, his mind struggling to actually process what he was feeling.

Dean felt Cas’ worry through the bond before the angel even appeared in the doorway, and when the seraph did finally enter the room, steps rushed and entire body tense, his wide blue eyes quickly found Dean before he crossed the distance between them in three big strides.

“Dean,” the angel breathed out, and then his eyes fell to where the hunter’s hands were still cradling his stomach and his panic grew even more evident, flooding the bond so strongly it was actually a little overwhelming, “Are you in pain? Did something happen? Are you—”

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean hurried to say in an attempt to calm Cas down, shaking his head as he tried to shake off the disorientation the angel’s fear was causing him, and normally he would have chuckled at just how overprotective Cas could get sometimes, but he couldn’t really bring himself to do it right then, because honestly, his mind was not working properly at the moment. He opened his mouth to explain, but found it better to just say, “Just… give me your hand.” He removed one of his hands from its spot on his stomach and lifted it, holding it out a little higher when Cas just frowned at him and didn’t move, suddenly looking confused, though the hint of worry on his features and in the bond still remained. Dean insisted, giving the angel a look and nodding down at his open hand, silently requesting that the angel follow what he’d said, and finally after a beat Cas obliged, lifting his arm to rest his own hand on Dean’s.

Dean directed Cas’ hand down, resting it over his bare stomach beside his own, and then waited, watching Cas’ reaction closely.

He saw the exact second Cas understood. The angel’s eyebrows shot up without a warning, undoing the confused frown that had been firmly placed there until then, and the next thing Dean felt was the angel applying a little more pressure to his stomach to feel the hardness better.

“It wasn’t like this yesterday. I mean, I don’t think it was, or at least not this much, anyway.” Maybe it had been a little harder than normal, he couldn’t know, but he hadn’t noticed it at all if that was the case. Today, though, the difference was blatantly clear; it would be completely impossible not to feel it.

“You’ll start showing soon,” There was a hint of awe mingling into the angel’s voice, and Dean could actually hear a smile forming on his lips, “Very soon.” However, when Cas looked up at him, Dean could see apprehension in his eyes as the angel’s face fell a little, like he was waiting for something, some sort of bad reaction from Dean, maybe another freak out of some sort.

Instead, Dean just nodded, because yeah, he was feeling weird about this, but surprisingly he wasn’t freaking out. He had known this would happen for months now, and while it was very much surreal to actually feel it happening now, that was all he felt. Weird. Unsure of what to do, really, because this just made everything even more real in a… weird way.

He knew where his baby was now. Like, not just that it was inside of him or in his abdomen. He knew, in that moment, that the hard portion right below his belly button was exactly where his baby was; where his little ball of light was actually pushing against his skin as it grew.

He let out a shaky breath at that thought, feeling a smile forming on his lips.

That was, until he realized what this meant.

“I have to tell Sam,” he breathed out, the words punching out of his mouth without a thought, his eyes widening like he was just now realizing that his brother still didn’t know about this, which was in a way pretty accurate. He just hadn’t thought about this in a while, but then again, they had been through a lot during this past month, so of course he had kind of forgotten how much of a big deal the fact that he still hadn’t told Sam he was pregnant truly was. The last time he had even thought about it at all had actually been back at the barn when they’d been waiting for Cain to show, and while back then he had decided to tell Sam the next chance he got, that just hadn’t happened yet. Everything had just gone downhill with Cain so fast and then Sam was out there helping Charlie, so Dean had just not gotten another chance after Ohio.

He realized then that he should have done this sooner. He’d had plenty of opportunities before Cain, so many days spent just him and his brother in this Bunker, and others with them and Cas. So many hours had passed by with them all just sitting beside each other in silence reading through countless books, and Dean had wasted every single one of those; had always put this off just out of nervousness, but he hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might not even have the chance to actually talk to Sam in person any time soon. He certainly hadn’t predicted the whole Stynes situation, obviously.

And he couldn’t do it now, not over the freaking phone. Of course not.

They had to meet up with Sam and Charlie. Then he would tell Sam.

Oh, fuck, he was going to tell Sam. How the hell was he supposed to do that? How the hell could he even get to that point in a conversation? He couldn’t just sit Sam down and bring it up somehow like he had done when he’d told Sam about him and Cas months ago. Well, he could, but he knew it wouldn’t work. And of course ‘wouldn’t work' meant that he wouldn’t be able to do it like that. He had tried the night he’d come out to Sam and hadn’t managed to get a single word out. He could already feel the panic settling in, just as it had so many times before whenever he’d thought about this, exactly as it had happened that night in the kitchen.

But this wasn’t the same thing, he reasoned, not by a long shot. And Dean wasn’t sure whether it was bad or worse.

Because this wasn’t a secret he’d kept for several years of his life; he hadn’t gone out of his way for freaking decades to make sure Sam would never even suspect it, building a certain image around himself as a ‘straight as an arrow’ womanizer and in more recent years covering his tracks whenever he’d slept with a man.

And yet, this felt even freaking _bigger._ Honestly, this was fucking huge. He was pregnant, carrying his and Cas’ _child_ , an actual half-angel little Winchester baby cooking up in his abdomen right now. How the hell was he supposed to tell his brother about this? How was he supposed to even fucking start?

“I do believe the time to tell Sam the truth has come,” Cas stated calmly, “He…”

The pause and the weird hesitance in the angel’s voice made Dean look up at him, finding it odd how Cas suddenly looked a little bit nervous. The hunter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sight, because Dean had no idea what that could mean. “He what?”

Cas let out a breath, and that only made the human even more confused, and honestly a little anxious. “Sam… knows we are keeping something from him.”

Okay, that was news. Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at those words, abruptly ending his prior train of thought completely as those words truly registered. Had they not been careful enough? Had Sam noticed Dean’s insistent nausea? Or maybe he’d begun paying more attention to how Dean’s eating habits were still pretty odd. His brother had pointed it out back in Iowa, so maybe he had put the pieces together? Would Sam even be able to do that on his own? It wasn’t like a pregnancy should be the first conclusion one should jump to when their brother started throwing up a lot and eating weird, so really, how could he have…?

“He noticed Gabriel’s pendant,” Cas explained, looking almost apologetic, “He questioned me about it twice, while you were unconscious. The first time I simply told him it was an amulet for protection, nothing else, and he let it go at first. But when Charlie called and he promised her that he would go to her, he was anxious about leaving and he mentioned it again.”

Dean really wasn’t happy with where this conversation was going, and he swallowed once before asking, “And?”

A breath escaped the angel, and Dean felt his nerves building in his stomach even more now. Fuck, what if Cas had told Sam? What if Sam already _knew?_ He hadn’t said a thing over the phone, but what if he wanted to talk in person? What if—

“I did not tell him about the baby, Dean.” The breath of relief that escaped Dean came out way louder than he had thought it would, but well, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. “I did tell him, however, that there was something he was not aware of. He insisted that I tell him, because he was worried about you, that you might be in danger somehow, and I said I could not do that, as I had promised you I wouldn’t. He accepted my silence after I assured him that you were not in any danger at the moment, but I do believe he will bring the subject to light again soon.”

Dean lifted his arm, running his hand through his hair and then down his face, scratching the growing beard that covered his jaw. He felt this weird, nervous bubbling in his stomach at those words, a tight feeling settling in his chest as he realized that this put some pressure on what he had to do next. This meant Sam would most likely demand answers from him at some point; he knew just how pushy his brother could be.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” His head snapped back up in surprise at the words, finding those big blue eyes staring sadly at him, almost with guilt, “I could not find another way not to tell him about the nephilim. He wouldn’t—”

“Cas, I know,” Dean shook his head, speaking up before the angel could go on with another one of his guilt trips that were becoming so annoyingly common, “I know how Sam is, trust me. I’m not mad.”

He really wasn’t. He had been planning to tell Sam the next time they met. True, he didn’t like it at all that now he would _have_ to say something; that if he didn’t then his brother would bring it up and then he wouldn’t have a choice on when and how exactly he would be telling Sam, but maybe that was the shove he needed to freaking man up and open up to his brother.

But either way, he wasn’t mad at Cas. The angel had done what he could not to actually tell Sam the truth without Dean’s consent.

Cas didn’t seem entirely convinced of that, though.

“I’m gonna tell him when he meet again, anyway. Before I…” He gestured down to his stomach with his hand, where Cas’ hand still resided, “So really, Cas, it doesn’t matter that he knows there’s something we’re keeping from him. It really doesn’t. And even if that wasn’t the case, really, I’m not mad.”

That seemed to make Cas relax a bit, and Dean smiled a little at it. Deciding the subject had been successfully dealt with, Dean looked down, lifting his hand again, this time to place it on top of Cas’ against his now slightly hardened belly. Another breath escaped him, this one even heavier, so much it felt like it had just being punched right out of his gut.

Fuck, how was Sam going to take this, though? Dean and Cas being together had been big news to him and he had taken it well, but this was something else entirely. This was the fucking definition of huge news, not to mention it still was the weirdest thing they had ever dealt with in all of their lives. What would Sam even…?

“Dean.”

Swallowing, Dean looked up; tearing his eyes away from their joined hands and turning his gaze back to the angel. Cas was even closer than he had been before, and then he was leaning forward, placing a light, short kiss to Dean’s mouth, lingering with their mouths pressed against each other’s for some time, sighing against Dean’s lips before pulling away a beat later.

“He’ll be happy, Dean,” Cas whispered, lowering his head and finding the place on the crook of Dean’s neck he seemed to like so much, letting his lips drag against the hunter’s skin the way that never failed to send shivers down Dean’s spine, “You have no reason to worry.”

“I’m not… worried,” Because what he was feeling wasn’t exactly worry. He was nervous, of course he was, but he wasn’t sure why exactly. He wasn’t scared of Sam’s reaction, afraid that his brother would call him a freak and not want anything to do with him because of this; that just wasn’t accurate at all. He just felt… anxious, he supposed. “I’m just… I don’t know, nervous, I guess. This is… this is big, Cas, huge. This changes _everything_ , and I really mean everything. How do you think he’ll take this?”

“He’ll love them, Dean.” The angel pressed his hand just a bit more against Dean’s belly, fingers moving a little to deliver a soft caress to the skin there, pulling his body away so he could look at Dean in the eye. “In here, right here, is our son or daughter, Sam’s nephew or niece. That is really all that truly matters, Dean. He’ll love them, just as he loves you, no matter what. It is true that this brings a big change into all of our lives, but that change is not in any way unwelcome or bad.”

Dean felt his eyes stinging as he nodded, because he knew Cas was right, of course he was. The hunter actually smiled at the thought of his brother actually being an uncle. And with Charlie by his side, those two would totally be those aunts and uncles who would just spoil his baby all the time, weren’t they?

The thought made a warm feeling spread through his chest, and he smiled more widely, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he felt a stray tear rolling down his cheek.

Damn hormones.

Cas smiled in response, leaning in once more as he raised his head to kiss Dean again, this time actually moving his lips, dragging them against the hunter’s, and Dean opened his mouth without even thinking about it, letting Cas deepen the kiss as the angel pleased, feeling the seraph’s hot, humid breath mingling with his own. He felt Cas’ hands sliding over the bare skin of his chest and then around his waist, pulling him flush against the angel, and Dean could already feel his body heating up, the need coiling in his belly reminding him just how long it had been since the last time they’d done this.

Keeping that thought in mind, Dean let his tongue find its way into Cas’ mouth, letting his own arms find their way around the angel’s waist, his hands already mapping out the forms he could just spend countless hours feeling and not getting tired of it at all, touching every inch of clothed skin he could find as if it was the first time.

But that wasn’t enough. No, because his body was already burning from the inside, heat pooling into every inch of his being, and he wanted, no, he _needed_ more.

It had been so long; he hadn’t realized just how much he was feeling the lack of it, how much he missed being close to Cas like this.

“Cas…” He pulled away a little, and the angel seemed to take that as a cue to let his mouth move to the hunter’s neck, laying kisses to the human’s throat as he had done earlier, but this time his lips moved almost sinfully over Dean’s skin, mouth wet and open, breath hot and humid as it danced over his skin in almost timed puffs and making Dean’s hold on the angel’s body tighten in response, a choked breath escaping his own lips. Fuck, that felt good. He’d missed that. His dick was already getting the message downstairs, beginning to fill in his pants at the promise of finally, after so long, getting some attention.

Usually this would be where the Mark would start to bother him. After the illusion, whenever he’d even tried to jerk off in the shower, it would only take a few beginning strokes and random thoughts for the damned thing to decide it was time to make him feel like crap. It had used to feed on lust before he and Cas had bonded; it had actually been pretty annoying back then, but that issue had been gone after Omaha, and Dean could only guess the bond was the one to thank for that.

But now, with Cas’ Grace so weak and Mark so strong, the issue had come back, and Dean couldn’t even think of getting turned on before the whispers started, leaving him shaky and disoriented. He could almost feel the control he had on his mind slipping through his finger every freaking time it had happened, so of course had hadn’t had an orgasm in over a month. And that was like, super unhealthy, he was aware, but there really wasn’t anything he could do to fix that.

So Dean had just given up on it in the end, deciding that it was just not worth the risk of losing his mind to the Mark once more. He hadn’t even touched his dick in over two weeks now, but apparently he should have, because the Mark was quiet, surprisingly. Maybe the extra juice was really running out, he realized with a wave of relief. That or the rest Cas was finally getting was actually healing his Grace a little.

“Are you…” Cas pulled away a little, not actually leaning away from Dean, but just enough so that his lips weren’t attached to the side of the hunter’s neck anymore, stopping what he’d been doing with his mouth, and Dean definitely did not whine in response. No. He didn’t. Definitely not.

Shut up.

“How are you feeling?” was Cas’ question, voice just a little muffled against Dean’s throat.

The hunter actually had to pause at the words, his mind not quite processing the meaning of them. He blamed that on the fact that a big portion of his blood was in the process of leaving his brain to more southern regions at the moment as he breathed out, “How…? Why?”

The angel actually did pull away from Dean at that, and his eyes were almost sad as he looked up at the hunter, which only confused the human even more. What was he missing here?

“You’ve been quite… on edge lately, Dean,” Cas explained calmly, “I have feared you were not well enough mentally for… anything of this sort.”

Oh, so Dean had been right about why Cas had been keeping a distance then. So he really had picked up on how Dean hadn’t been feeling up for anything sexual before because of the damn Mark. Well, that was good to know, really, because he was really starting to grow paranoid about it as well lately. It actually made him feel warm inside to think that Cas had just been worried about him, a small, grateful smile flooding his lips.

“I’m fine, Cas. I wasn’t before, true, but now I’m…” He sighed, leaning to kiss Cas lightly, because he didn’t like how far Cas suddenly was. It was only a few inches, true, but that was already too damn much. He separated their lips only a short moment later, but instead of leaning away, he rested their foreheads together, so their faces were still close enough that he could feel Cas’ slightly labored breath washing over his mouth. It tingled a little, and he smiled, resisting the urge to kiss those lips again. It was surprisingly hard. “I’m better, really. And… I’ve missed you, Cas, so freaking much.” The words were out of his mouth without his consent, and for a moment he was back to fearing that he might have crossed a line with Cas, that he might be pushing it too far. He was still afraid of overwhelming the angel, so he had to be careful with that he said.

But the angel didn’t pull away or look in any way bothered by the words. Instead he smiled, just that shy, small thing at the corner of his mouth with no teeth showing that Dean liked to see so much, and the hunter couldn’t help but smile in response. “I’ve missed you too, Dean.” He kissed Dean again, just a short peck, a stark contrast to what they’d been doing so far, and yet it felt so right considering their current topic.

“I wanted to…” Dean swallowed, changing his mind before the words were out of his mouth as he abruptly realized just how pushy or needy he would sound if he pointed out just how much he had wanted to bring this up before, how countless times during the past few days the words had jumped to the tip of his tongue but not made it out of his mouth, as he’d just never managed to let them out. He wasn’t a clingy, horny teenage boyfriend, damn it.

But right now he was really acting like one. He really should start thinking before he said things, because his filter had really stopped working, but Dean would very much like to blame that one on Cas’ mouth.

Cas seemed to get it anyway, and once more he didn’t look bothered at all by what Dean had been trying to say, much to the hunter’s relief.

“The only reason I did not bring this up sooner myself was because I feared you were not ready, Dean. You’ve been pushing me away these past few weeks, and from that I understood you wanted distance. You went through so much after Cain, Dean. I did not wish to push you into doing something you did not feel ready for.”

Well, of course Dean was the author of his own internal freak out. Or at least part of it, anyway. He’d been so worried about this dry spell they had been going through that he’d apparently been misreading the whole thing. He’d wanted distance because he was having trouble dealing with the Mark and Cas’ coddling had been making him feel like a freaking child, but in the end he hadn’t needed to say a thing about it since Cas had understood that Dean wasn’t well enough for sex. And even now that Dean was feeling better, the angel had still been worried and had been waiting for _Dean_ to address this or make the first move, or at least for a moment like this.

Finding that he couldn’t find any words to say in response so he just leaned forward, intending to capture the angel’s lips yet again, but he was surprised when Cas leaned back and away from him when he did it, so all Dean could do was frown in confusion at him, honestly feeling a little hurt.

“Anything you feel, Dean,” Cas let out lowly, his eyes oddly wide and serious, “Anything at all, coming from the Mark or not, you tell me, okay?”

Hurt dissipated into warmth in Dean’s chest, and he couldn’t help but smile at the angel’s words, at the worry that was still so clear in the angel’s voice. Briefly he wondered if there was any other meaning behind those words, but he pushed the thought away. This wasn’t the moment to overthink everything and have yet another internal freak out. That could wait. “Yeah,” he whispered in response, hoping it would be enough to soothe the angel’s mind, “Okay.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent response, true, but that seemed to be enough for Cas, and that was all that really mattered.

The moment the apprehension was cleared from Cas’ features the angel lunged forward, fitting their mouths together with so much voracity that Dean was actually startled. He actually almost toppled backwards, but Cas held him steady and upwards, arm snaking around Dean’s naked torso once more, palms hot and delicious over the hunter’s skin, leaving invisible trails wherever it passed, making Dean’s skin tingle in response to his touch and shivers run down his spine.

It had been way too long since he’d last felt those hands on him like this, dancing over his bare skin not with the intent to caress, but to ravish, gripping flesh hungrily and mapping out every turn of his body with clear desire, and suddenly he had no freaking idea how he’d survived without it after so freaking long.

When he was sure he wouldn’t lose his balance again and fall to the floor (which maybe wouldn’t be so bad, really, because then they would be lying down, and Dean was very much on board with that turn of events), Dean responded to Cas’ kiss with just as much enthusiasm as he could, once again letting his tongue slide into the angel’s mouth, gasping for air but not for one moment leaning away to breathe properly because they hadn’t kissed like this, dirty and hungry, teeth scraping together and lips actually feeling like they would be bruised after this, for freaking weeks. Dean honestly couldn’t get enough of this right now.

The bond was already flaring between them, the temperature of the air around them and of his body rising faster than Dean could really process it, his cock perking up even more than before, hardening in his jeans and already begging for attention, but that really wasn’t surprising, not after such a long dry spell.

He let his own hands explore on their own, feeling the warmth of Cas’ skin even through the shirt the angel was wearing, every curve and angle he’d so carefully memorized over the past few months, familiar and yet feeling even more compelling under his curious palms now. This wasn’t new by any means, and yet there was a thrill running through Dean’s veins in finally being able to do this again.

He started pushing Cas backwards without even meaning to, although a second later he realized he was doing it in the wrong direction as neither of them had their backs turned to the bed and he was actually leading Cas toward the door, but it worked out fine as he aimed for the wall instead and right now he just really wanted to press Cas against something anyway so that would for now.

The moment he had Cas against the wall Dean shifted, moving his leg to trap it between Cas’, and he actually moaned when he felt how hard the angel already was, his erection poking proudly against the top of the human’s thigh. Cas growled in response, his grip on Dean tightening, a gasp escaping his lips against the hunter’s mouth that Dean swallowed happily, and then proceeded to repeat the motion, rubbing his clothed limb against the bulge pressing against the fabric of the seraph’s own pants, applying as much friction to the angel’s erection as he could like this.

Dean imagined it hard and leaking already, and he moaned at the thought. His hips buckled a little against Cas’ hipbone, and he himself couldn’t hold the gasp that shook out of his mouth at the friction against his own hardened cock. Cas’ hands slid down from their place on Dean’s back, traveling quickly down until they reached the hunter’s denim clad ass, grabbing it and pulling Dean’s hips forward in the process, rubbing Dean’s leg even more into the angel’s erection and all but pressing the human’s dick against his hip. Cas’ own hips stuttered forward to get more friction, and Dean groaned at the result it brought to his own cock as it dragged against the angel’s front.

Fuck, they were dry humping like freaking teenagers, and Dean was loving every second of it.

But he wanted more; so fucking more. He couldn’t get the image of Cas’ leaking dick out of his mind and without a thought he let his hand find its way to the front of the angel’s pants, undoing to button with practiced ease and jamming his hand inside.

Cas was deliciously hard already, and Dean would have smirked if he wasn’t still busy sucking at the angel’s tongue. Instead he just let his palm grip Cas’ warm cock, swallowing the moan that brought out of the angel greedily before he began to carefully work his hand over the angel’s shaft, squeezing and tugging as slowly as he could manage right now, just to feel it harden and thicken in his hold, enjoying how Cas’ hands moved to his shoulders and would tighten in time with how Dean’s hand moved, loving the way the angel’s breath shook and low whines would escape Cas’ mouth in response, how his hips were starting to thrust up and into the hunter’s hand already, practically begging to Dean to pick up a faster pace.

But Dean didn’t do that. Instead he just pulled their lips apart, moving his face to the side, kissing the side of the angel’s throat, just listening to Cas pant and moan into his ear as he continued to massage the Cas’ dick slowly with his hand, the movements of his wrist calm and practiced, unrushed, simply enjoying every drag of the warm tissue against his palm, the weight of it in his hand.

Moving his hand up towards the tip of the angel’s cock, Dean let his thumb run over the tip, feeling the warm precome spreading around the head and clinging to his skin. He smiled at the feeling, repeating the motion twice more just to get a few more broken whimpers out of Cas, loving the whole body shudder the third time earned him. Cas’ cock was hardening even more and Dean could feel even more precome leaking out.

Fuck, he really wanted to taste that.

Deciding he might as well do just that, Dean sucked on Cas’ neck one last time, tugging a couple more times on the angel’s cock until he pulled his hand out of the seraph’s pants, and the little sad, broken whine that Cas let out was truly pitiful. Dean smiled at it, pulling away to take in Cas’ state, loving just how rumpled he already was when they had barely even done anything so far, chest heaving, breath labored and this beautiful flush of arousal painting the skin of his neck and disappearing under his shirt.

Dean licked his lips at the sight, but he knew he would get to that later so he did nothing about it for now. There was something else he really wanted to put his mouth on right now, so that could wait a little while.

With that thought crystal clear in his mind, he gave Cas a smirk and dropped to his knees.

Cas’ pants were already undone, so all that Dean had to do was pull them down along with the angel’s boxers until he was staring at the marvelous sight that was the angel’s hard cock right in front of his face, full and erect, proudly leaking and head completely damp with precome.

Dean mouth watered at the sight, and normally he would tease a little, mouthing at the area around where Cas would really want him to go for, biting at the inside of those gorgeous, muscular thighs, but as it turned out Dean didn’t have that much self-control right now. He only waited a second to drink it all in and lick his lips before he was already diving in, letting his tongue draw a line from the tip to the base of the angel’s shaft, feeling the taste of precome instantly flooding his mouth.

He smiled at Cas’ reaction; at the broken, breathless moan that tore from the angel’s mouth the moment he did it, at how the seraph’s knees buckled a little before he leaned back even more against the wall for support, as if afraid he might actually fall to the floor if he wasn’t careful and didn’t have something solid to lean against.

“Fuck, I missed this,” Dean breathed out, giving the head a few careful, generous licks, groaning lowly both at the taste and feel of Cas on his tongue, but also at how his own dick tingled in response, the bond echoing with the angel’s pleasure and transferring part of the feeling his tongue was providing to his own untouched cock.

Cas’ hand moved to grip at the top of the hunter’s head at those words, and Dean looked up to catch just another glimpse of the angel’s disheveled figure before he dove forward once more, this time actually taking Cas into his mouth.

“Dea—an, ah….” Cas’ voice broke, and what a beautiful sound that was.

The angel’s knees bulked again, and this time the hunter actually thought Cas might fall, so he lifted his hands to rest them against those gorgeous, sharp hipbones he loved so freaking much, trying to keep the seraph more steady somehow. He loved how this way he could feel rather than simply see Cas’ hips move, how they already were stuttering a little, like they wanted to thrust forward but the angel was fighting it with every drop of self-control he could find within his body.

Dean smiled at that thought, taking even more of Cas into his mouth as he began to move his head back and forth, making sure his lips were folded over his teeth as he let them slide over the angel’s now fully erect shaft. The hand that had rested over his hair earlier was now gripping the strands tightly, pulling and tugging in time with the way Dean’s mouth moved. It was delicious.

Dean took his time with Cas. He worked the angel’s cock like it was the first time he was doing this, relaxing his throat and taking Cas all the way in from time to time, then going back to carefully sucking him, smirking a little at the way Cas humped the air before him, chasing Dean’s mouth desperately whenever the human pulled back. He loved the way the seraph’s hold would clench and unclench around his hair, how the broken moans seemed to be growing in volume as time passed, but breaking more and more with every time the left the angel’s mouth.

And when all that started to happen too much, and Dean knew Cas was getting close to the edge, he would pull back, going back to delivering soft, short licks to the angel’s cock instead, once in a while letting his tongue circle the head or follow the pulsating vein on the underside, sometimes even dipping his tongue into the slit at the tip, before he was sure he’d staved off Cas’ orgasm enough that he could wrap his mouth around that gorgeous dick again without ending the party too soon.

His own dick was aching by now, heavy and ready inside his pants, begging for attention by now as not a single hand had been laid on it so far, and Dean knew all he had to do to relieve some of the discomfort coming from it was to reach into his pants and give his own dick a few strokes while his mouth still worked on Cas, but he refused to do that, deciding the echo of Cas’ own pleasure would be enough for now. There would be time for that later; right now he just wanted to take care of Cas and watch as the angel slow fell apart piece by piece under his ministrations.

So he did just that. Cas’ cock continued to leak a generous amount of precome, and Dean lapped it all up eagerly, taking the angel’s length into his mouth a few more times, feeling it pulsate on his tongue, its girth heavy and solid. He loved the feeling of it; loved how he could make Cas feel like this, and the fact that he could tell the angel was already growing close, how the buzzing of the bond was already turning into waves of heat, so strong and almost electric as it poured over his entire body, only turned Dean on even more.

One particularly loud moan reached Dean’s ears, and he pulled back to look up at the angel, feeling his own cock instantly twitching at the sight that greeted him—Cas with his head falling backwards against the wall, back arching off the surface, eyes closed and mouth open as he panted, face contorted in something that could only be read as pure pleasure.

It was truly beautiful.

So much that Dean didn’t want this to be over just yet. He wanted to feel and see more of that; he wanted this moment right there to just never end. If he could take a picture of Cas’ face right then, man, he would, but he wasn’t sure how the angel would feel about that so he decided not to ruin the moment by bring it up now.

Maybe they could talk about this later.

Deciding that the only way to make this last longer was for him to stop right now before Cas spilled into his mouth, Dean stood back up, actually groaning when he had a better view from Cas’ face.

The sound made the angel open his eyes, nothing more than two blue slits looking at Dean for a second before there as a mouth against his, pushing and sucking, as well as a tongue licking into his mouth, starving and demanding, and the hunter groaned as he realized that Cas could probably taste himself on his tongue.

If he’d thought their kiss from earlier had been dirty, well, that one had nothing on this right here. Hands pulling and gripping, teeth biting, breaths so labored it was nothing more than erratic, desperate gasps, and the taste of Cas on his tongue, which the angel seemed very glad and happy to feel and share with Dean.

Fuck, this was hot.

Cas began to push him backward to lead him to the bed at some point, his hands gentle but his touch was strong, almost demanding, and Dean let himself be moved easily with no resistance. They moved slowly because Cas’ pants were still wrapped around his ankles and the angel didn’t seem willing to pull apart for enough time to take care of that, but eventually Dean felt the mattress hitting the back of his calves and let himself sit onto the edge. He was about to scoot backwards so his legs were on the bed as well, but the hold Cas had on the hair behind his head kept him firmly in place, and he paused right there, only halfway on the bed with his feet still on the floor. The angel tore their lips apart then, mouthing at Dean’s throat while leaning over him, still standing up for some reason.

“Stay like this,” Cas muttered against the side of his throat, warm breath sending goosebumps all over his skin, and Dean actually shivered at how deep the angel’s voice could freaking go when he was aroused.

Dean didn’t question it; couldn’t even form words right then, really, so all he did was nod in response as Cas leaned away from him, and he actually fucking whined when the heat from the angel’s body was suddenly too far away from him.

The angel bent down to kick off the clothing that still pooled around his feet more easily, throwing it to the side as soon as his legs and feet were free, leaving him completely naked from the waist down.

Just for a second, Dean realized that he was naked from the waist up and Cas from the waist down, which for some reason was a little amusing, but that thought was out the window the moment he watched the seraph pull his shirt over his head and then suddenly Cas was completely freaking naked in front of him and fuck, why was he _so fucking far away._

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Dean breathed out, panting as he drank in the sight of Cas standing completely bare before him.

Without any sort of coherent thought forming in his head in that moment, Dean reached out his hands, eyes traveling up and down over that beautiful, flushed chest, muscled and defined and so freaking delicious that Dean could already feel his mouth watering. He wanted to taste, wanted to fucking touch, and he was happy when the angel smirked at his reaction and moved back toward him. Dean’s hand grabbed at the angel’s sides, pulling him forward, and Cas followed the wordless request without pause, diving in and gluing their mouth together with the same voracity from before, as if he had not for even one second allowed their lips to part, straddling Dean’s lap as soon as he was on the mattress, planting on knee on each side of the hunter.

Dean’s hands had developed a mind of their own by then, happy to finally be able to touch skin, to feel the warm, inviting flesh rubbing against his palm. He basked in it, grabbed and squeezed wherever he could reach, moaning in response to every deep rumble that came from Cas’ throat as the angel pawed at him himself, urgent hands traveling all over Dean’s own naked torso, skin so hot it might as well be on fire and Dean couldn’t help but want _more…_

With Cas on his lap like that, all Dean’s mind could latch on was the fact that this was the reverse version of that morning when Cas had just gotten back to the Bunker after his road trip with Charlie, when the angel had woken him up early and Dean had wanted to try something new, so he’d ridden Cas on this very bed and it had been glorious.

So of course he was imagining that right now, but this time, with Cas sitting on his lap, bouncing up and down on his dick, and fuck if that wasn’t the hottest thing Dean had ever pictured in his mind.

At some point, Cas pulled their mouths apart, and Dean tried to chase him but couldn’t as the angel proceeded to deliver wet, open mouthed kisses to his throat yet again, teeth grazing at the hunter’s skin every so often and honestly all Dean could do was let his head hang back and close his eyes, breathing out moan after moan at the feeling of it. His hand went to up grip at Cas’ hair as the angel continued to work him to a puddle with his mouth, pulling at the soft, messy strands that had wormed their way into the space between his fingers. He gasped as one particularly strong bite was delivered to his neck, and he groaned at the thought that it would probably leave a mark.

“You called me beautiful earlier, and that makes me wonder… Have you ever actually looked at yourself in a mirror,” He felt the words being spoken against his skin, but couldn’t for the life of him find his voice to reply, especially when suddenly there was a hand gripping him through his pants, so really all he could in response to that was groan and cant his hips up a little. Fuck, Cas was only touching him through his clothes and he was acting like a freaking horny teenager, but honestly he didn’t care. “The word beautiful fits you, Dean Winchester, although I’m afraid that is not enough to describe you.”

“Cas…” Dean wasn’t sure what he was going to say as a reply to that. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if whatever had been about to come out of his freaking mouth would even be anything coherent at all, considering words were suddenly a very, very complex thing for his brain to accomplish at the moment, but he didn’t even have the chance to try.

The angel was suddenly off of him again, and for a moment Dean tried to hold him back because really why was he moving away so much? But then there was a hand urging down onto the mattress and he just let it move him until he was lying on his back.

The next thing he knew was that his pants and underwear were being pulled off and suddenly he was also completely naked and his cock was finally free so really, he had no freaking complaints to make at the moment. None at all.

Especially when Cas’ mouth suddenly became attached to his right inner thigh.

The moment those lips were on his skin, Dean’s entire body trembled, his dick twitching from where it stood proudly over his belly, fully hard and aching as it had to yet be touched.

But Cas took his time. He licked and bit, kissed and teased the skin of both his thighs and around his groin, giving every single inch of skin before him careful attention, but never would he go for the place where Dean really wanted to feel that marvelous, wet, hot mouth. The angel moved slow, patient as he slowly worked Dean into a frenzy so intense he was already thrusting up a little when Cas moved up to bite at his hipbone.

“Cas,” Yeah, Dean actually freaking whined, glancing down at the angel as the seraph licked a trail around his groin and back down to his left thigh, once more ignoring the hunter’s leaking cock. He saw Cas smile at the sound of his voice, lifting his head a little from Dean’s thigh, and the hunter gasped when Cas moved his head a little to the side, enough so that warm puffs of air from his breath washed over Dean’s still untouched member. “Cas, please.”

Cas smiled again, this time an actual broader version of it, a proud twinkle taking over his eyes as his gaze connected with the hunter’s for only a second.

And then he was moving his head down and taking Dean inside his mouth.

It was really a good thing they were alone in the Bunker. Well, for one thing they definitely would not be doing _this_ with the door open if they weren’t, but even if they had been closed off in this room, Dean was pretty sure anyone would have been able to hear the actual freaking howl that tore from his mouth in that moment. It actually even hurt his throat, but he really didn’t have it in him to register the pain right because there was a _glorious_ mouth on his cock right now and that was all he could process.

“Fuck, Cas…” Dean scooted just a bit backwards and pulled his legs up and over the edge of the bed so he could plant his feet on the mattress and have leverage to thrust up into the heat, and Cas didn’t complain at all as he did it, because again, apparently the angel had no gag reflex.

And that was truly a blessing.

Ha.

Already Cas was swallowing around his cock and Dean’s eyes rolled down to the back of his head, his entire body tensing as his back arched, because finally, _finally_. His hands gripped at the sheets around him and then let go again, like his muscles weren’t quite sure what they should be doing, couldn’t figure out what to do to respond to the pleasure suddenly washing over all his nerve endings.

The drag of Cas’ lips up and down his shaft followed, the sweet, sweet friction almost overwhelming as the angel bobbed his head up and down in a much faster rhythm than Dean had taken earlier, instead giving Dean wave after wave of pleasure that poured into his insides nearly without pause. Dean was already growing hoarse as he all but screamed, praises even he couldn’t quite make out or remember jumping from his lips nonstop as that mouth sucked him with all its might.

And then that tongue, oh that _amazing, divine_ tongue was circling the head and going over his slit and then Cas was sucking again and again and again and _fuck, fuck…_

“Holy fuck, Cas…” Somehow Dean sat up at little, using one arm behind himself to stay propped up as he was still leaning backwards too much to stay balanced like that while his other hand flew to the angel’s hair, gripping the strands tightly and pushing down a little. Cas took the hint and took Dean’s cock even deeper into his mouth as the human began to thrust up even more, fucking into that glorious mouth, and Cas just took in all in stride, continuing to move his head up and down, up and down, swallowing around the human’s dick repeatedly and with ease, as if it was just natural for him. All of that added to the thought that Cas himself must be feeling an echo of that marvelous blow job on his own cock with the way the angel’s throat rumbled around his dick with low moans made Dean’s back arch even more as he moaned, toes curling around the sheets under his feet because _fuck, this was almost too much, and he still needed more, he fuck… fuck… he wanted… he didn’t…_

“Cas, ah…” His voice broke, hips canting up even as he tried to stop them, “I—I, fuck, I can’t… I can’t… Cas, shit, I can—ah, fuck…”

Fortunately Cas had understood what he’d been trying to say, as the next thing Dean knew was that the heat was suddenly gone from his cock and he was on his back again. Cas was suddenly there, not actually on top of him but simply leaning over him, but that was close enough and that talented mouth was now on his and fuck, Dean groaned once he noticed he could taste himself on the angel’s tongue, gripping the seraph’s hair even more tightly and licking into Cas’ mouth, even as his body complained that he had been about to come and had been left hanging.

But he wasn’t disappointed. No, actually he was glad, because there was still so much he wanted to do and that would just have ruined everything.

Cas’ kisses were urgent, but not as they had been before. There was a certain calmness to it, but it came laced with something else, like an underlying electric current that ran under his skin, close to the surface, a quiet and yet insistent promise of more that already had Dean’s cock twitching again in expectation, still hard and leaking.

Dean guessed Cas was doing this to stave off his orgasm for now, and the hunter just went with it, letting their mouths slide and tongues tangle as the fire in his belly started to lose strength. His dick was still achingly hard, but at least he didn’t feel like one wrong brush of skin might send him over the edge, so that was good.

Cas must have been able to feel when that shift happened, because he then proceeded to move properly on top of Dean. He had been on the mattress as well until then, but not actually on Dean; his entire body had been on Dean’s right, sitting beside the human so the angel was pretty much leaning over Dean diagonally to kiss him, probably because if he had been on Dean the hunter would have come all over the two of them already.

But now Cas threw one leg over Dean, and suddenly their cocks were touching and Dean was seeing stars again, especially when Cas starting humping him a little, rubbing their hardened dicks together so deliciously that Dean had to chase that feeling and thrust up against him. Cas’ mouth attached itself to his neck again and Dean moaned, continuing to make their erections rub together with only the movement of their hips.

The low, grumbly moans and gasps Cas began to let out beside his ear were truly glorious, and Dean just couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and bite that sweet earlobe that was so tentatively close to his face. The angel let out another broken gasp, and Dean smiled, letting his tongue run over the lobe and loving how Cas’ movements stuttered, entire body shuddering, his cock twitching at the low rumble the angel gave him as a response as he made a trail with his tongue down to the seraph’s throat, tasting the delicious sweat that was already forming on Cas’ skin, lapping it up like it was some sort of ambrosia.

It was his turn to gasp, however, when a hand snaked between them to grip at his cock, and then without a warning Cas’ cock was also against his own, that hand holding them firmly together as it began to jerk their joined members at the same time, and fuck, Dean howled again, lifting his body from the mattress with an arm once more, pressing his chest to Cas’ and leaning forward in a way that the angel’s mouth was still right beside his ear, just so he could hear the angel’s beautiful moans, the way his breath hitched with every stroke, with every marvelous slide of this lengths together.

For a few beats, Dean let his other hand slide around Cas’ torso just so he could feel those beautiful muscles tense in time with their thrusts, to feel them harden and stiffen as pleasure coursed through the angel’s veins, as his body was flooded overwhelmingly with their joined ecstasy and the bond heightened all the sensations coming from each of them, sending sparks running through their entire bodies right up to the tips of their toes, but soon he couldn’t resist the urge and moved his hand between them to join Cas’ around their cocks.

He joined Cas on his careful, slow strokes, deciding once more that they wouldn’t come like this, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy this for a while. Cas’ hand was covered in precome, the viscous substance coating not only the angel’s palm but both of their lengths, and Dean moaned at the thought of it, at the image of their cocks leaking together and having their precome combined smearing all over both their dicks, their hands completely covered in it, so much they were glistening, wet and shiny. The sounds of their hands working over their cocks, the erotic slapping of skin that was quickly filling the room, only added to Dean’s arousal, a growl tearing through his lips as he thrust up faster, teeth grazing at the skin of Cas’ shoulder, hearing the angel groan in response and roll his hips more roughly against Dean’s, so much the bed actually hit the wall loudly once.

Dean ran his thumb over his own slit, and then Cas’, feeling the angel tense even more, the rhythm of their hands picking up as Cas’ moans became more insisting, echoing with Dean’s own, their hips now rolling so enthusiastically that they were both actually fucking their joined hands at this point.

“Cas,” Dean let out, “If you wa—ah,” A thumb circled the head of his dick, a tongue licking at the side of his throat, teeth biting onto his skin once more, delicious panting washing over the human’s skin as he felt the seraph’s breath erratic and heavy, hitching very often now, mirroring Dean’s own, “I, ah, f—fuck, fuck…”

“How…” The sound of Cas’ voice was a bit of a surprise, and Dean loved to hear just how much the angel was struggling to speak himself. Cas slowed his thrusts and the movement of his hand, and Dean followed his example, albeit he couldn’t quite manage to stop completely. His hips kept giving small thrust upwards on their own, and he couldn’t help but squeeze their cocks once more. Cas hissed a little, and then managed to speak again, “How do yo…you, ah… wish to…” Dean flicked his wrist just to hear the angel’s voice break, to feel Cas bury his face against his throat and moan, because fuck that was gorgeous. He could easily come from just this.

But the point Dean had been trying to make in his head and that Cas apparently agreed with was that there was a much better way to do this and they should probably get going with that because with the way things were going, both of them wouldn’t last much longer to do anything else if they didn’t stop now.

At that thought, the image of Cas riding him came back to his mind, but Dean pushed it away for now. He felt like he wouldn’t get to properly enjoy that if they did it now; his body was already begging him to come, and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t last long at all as it was. Honestly, he really didn’t care how they did it, who topped or who bottomed. Right now, all his body wanted was an orgasm.

But since they had to choose, Dean let the closest option to his little fantasy slip from his tongue before he could stop it. “Me on top,” he breathed out.

Cas nodded in response, giving their cocks a few more tugs before he leaned away from Dean, letting go of their dicks at last before one of them came before the actual fun could get started.

Dean was just left there, aching and alone on the bed as Cas moved over to grab their lube from the nightstand, but he was back soon enough, uncapping the bottle and grabbing Dean’s hand from the mattress as he straddled Dean once more, squeezing a very generous amount of the substance onto Dean’s fingers, coating them nicely. Letting the bottle fall onto the bed beside them, Cas pulled Dean’s hand down and toward his ass.

Dean would have chuckled at his eagerness, maybe even teased him a little, but he was so fucking turned on he just let his hand be moved without any resistance and as soon as he found Cas’ hole he was already pushing a finger inside, groaning at the hotness that suddenly surrounded his digit, closing his eyes and groaning lowly at the thought that soon enough that would be his dick.

Cas’ hands were resting on his shoulders then, squeezing his flesh as Dean began to move his finger in and out of him, glancing down at the delicious sight of Cas’ dick, fully erect and dripping, so much precome coating it, both his and Cas’, and there was still a lot coming out. Dean licked his lips at the sight, but before he got any more ideas the hunter leaned back to look at the angel, suddenly realizing he wasn’t doing that enough today, wasn’t truly appreciating what a beautiful sight it was to see Cas so flushed and aroused, pupils blown and hair completely a mess, mouth hanging open as he panted and moaned, and _fuck that was beautiful._

Cas caught his eyes for a moment, and the small smile that tugged at the corner of the angel’s lips confused Dean for only a second before it all made senses as he heard inside his head, _I feel like we’ve discussed this already._

Oh, nice, he was projecting again.

There was a hint of amusement in Cas’ eyes for a beat and Dean suddenly knew he had made his annoyance clear on his face, or maybe through the bond because he couldn’t know, and then the angel was leaning forward, delivering a careful, slow kiss to his mouth as if to tell him to stop being ridiculous.

Dean huffed a little against his mouth, but then Cas moaned as Dean moved his finger all the way back inside and he forgot about the subject altogether.

He loved how Cas was over him, on his knees, spreading so Dean could reach his ass, humping the air a little already as the hunter was still just beginning to work him open, but Dean decided that if Cas wasn’t going to ride him then this was just getting his dick tempted and before he started thrusting up he’d better fix that, so he pulled his hand back from Cas’ ass and gripped both the angel’s thighs, flipping them over and all but throwing the angel onto the mattress.

And now that he had Cas on his back and under him, all Dean could think about was how he wanted to get this party on the road, his throbbing dick agreeing vehemently with that thought, especially with how the angel spread his legs for him, eager and inviting, almost begging.

The anticipation was palpable in the air.

So he moved his hand straight for Cas’ ass, one finger sliding into the angel’s hole just a beat later, and as he moved his digit in and out once more, he realized that the seraph was already loose enough for him to slip another one in, so that was what he did next. Careful and slow, the hunter added another finger, letting it slide in place alongside the other one, feeling Cas tense around him with a short, low gasp flying from him lips.

Dean worked Cas open carefully, even if every nerve of his body was telling him to rush because he had already waited way too much, ignoring the constant throbbing of his still very much hard cock, as hard as resisting the urge to give himself a few tugs just to relieve some pressure was. He was pretty sure he only succeeded at that because of just know mesmerizing the sight of Cas before him was, how distracting the sounds coming from the angel were, the low, begging whimpers and growls encouraging him to go on.

And Dean did. He spread his fingers and loosened Cas’ entrance, adding a third finger when it was time for it and folding his digits every time he moved, looking for and quickly finding Cas’ prostrate, judging by the sudden change in the volume of the angel’s moans, the subtle movements of his hips that the angel was clearly trying to hold back, but didn’t quite manage. It all made Dean smirk.

Cas was open enough pretty soon, but even as he realized that Dean’s gaze fell onto the beautiful sight that was the angel’s stiff cock just a few inches from his face, and he couldn’t hold back the urge to lean forward, fingers still folding and moving in and out of Cas’ hole as he let his tongue run around the head of the seraph’s dick, and then took it into his mouth once, sucking at the tip for a moment. The angel’s hips shot forward, chasing the sensation, and the broken moan Dean got in response to that was music to his ears, and he smiled as he pulled back with a loud pop.

And that was when finally Dean pulled his hand back and reached for the discarded bottle of lube, gathering way more than enough onto his palm and wrapping his hand around his own cock, pumping it a few times to coat properly, groaning at the relief the few tugs already brought to him. His erection was actually painful by now.

But just as that thought struck him, he pushed it aside and moved over Cas once more, feeling a weird calm wash over him all of a sudden as he fit his body between Cas’ legs and over the angel, looking down at the seraph’s flushed face, just drinking it all in for a second. He suddenly felt the need to pause for a moment, and he wasn’t sure whether or not he should blame the Mark’s words from his nightmare or his own insecurities for it, or maybe just the fact that it had been so freaking long since the last time they had done this.

Whatever it was, for a beat all Dean could do was stare; just taking in the sight of Cas, sprawled on the mattress, panting as he looked up at Dean, eyes clouded with arousal, and yet at the same time there was something else in the angel’s stare, something so close to adoration that Dean felt his breath being punched out of him.

There they were again, those three words wanting to just jump from his tongue, and maybe it was ridiculous that he was making such a big deal out of this, because they were having a baby together and had their souls freaking bonded. Shouldn’t that mean something? Ease his mind somehow?

Also, they had a freaking mental link that Dean still had no idea how to fucking control, so really, odds were that Cas might even already know what the hunter had been struggling with for the past few days, the doubts that were still floating around his mind.

Almost like he really was reading the hunter’s thoughts, Cas lifted his hand, placing it on the side of Dean’s head, running his thumb lightly over the human’s cheek, his eyes warm and loving, a small smile forming on his lips, almost like a positive response to Dean’s thoughts, and the hunter really didn’t want to think too much about that one. There was a weird buzzing coming from the bond, a wave of warmth that was so clearly different from anything concerning their arousal that Dean instantly knew what it meant.

Fuck, Cas probably _knew._ He knew and the angel hadn’t said a thing; hadn’t freaked out at all on him like Dean had been fearing.

No, he was here looking at Dean like he had hung the freaking moon and the hunter had no idea how to cope with that.

Or maybe Cas didn't know and Dean was just being paranoid again.

Letting out a breath at that thought, he did what his body wanted and leaned forward, smiling down at Cas even with the nerves suddenly bubbling up in his gut. Cas didn’t say a thing, didn’t comment on the sudden shift in the room or if he indeed knew what Dean was thinking. No, he just followed Dean’s lead, leaning in and letting the hunter’s lips meet his own silently, let him do what he wanted and what he felt ready for, and while that was still a little scary, the doubt of whether or not Cas was fully aware of all the almost irrational fears still weighing very heavily in his mind, the hunter felt glad that Cas was leaving all the decisions solely to him. It made Dean feel in control and suddenly he realized just how much more ground that made him feel.

The kiss wasn’t heated; it was actually slow, almost calm, and yet it felt heavy with unspoken words, laced with all the things Dean still couldn’t bring himself to say. Cas’ tongue was almost hesitant it licked at Dean’s mouth, entering and dragging over the top of his mouth, and Dean shivered.

It didn’t last long, though. Dean was still painfully aware of his own hardness, now completely lubed and ready to go, which also brought to his mind the fact that Cas was open and still very much hard under him, so he leaned back and away from the angel so he could carefully guide his cock to Cas’ entrance, placing the tip against the ring of muscles, feeling it tighten in response to the touch—in expectation, he assumed.

Dean held Cas’ gaze as he slid in. Those intense, wide blue eyes were glued to his face, attentive and completely focused, the warmth from before still very much present in them even as the hunter slowly entered him, the only change being how the angel’s mouth fell open, a silent gasp jumping out. Dean would have smiled at it if his own mouth wasn’t busy, a groan escaping his throat as the heat of Cas’ body welcomed him, hugging first the head then the rest of his cock and he pressed forward as slowly as he could possibly manage.

“Fuck,” he panted out as finally he bottomed out, closing his eyes as he just let himself feel the tightness that surrounded him, the delicious heat that now enveloped his cock, letting out a broken moan when Cas shifted a little.

“Dean.” Cas’ tone was strong, even if his voice broke a little at the end. Dean already knew what the angel had wished to convey with that short word, but he still looked down at the seraph just to make sure, finding the angel’s eyes even darker than they had been earlier.

He got a small shaky breath from the angel, and then a sharp nod—the green light for him to move.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “Okay.”

Dean had meant to go steady at first, slow and giving Cas time to adjust as he always did, but all they had been doing earlier had quickly caught up to him, his dick deciding that he really wouldn’t be able to take too much more. Cas didn’t seem to disagree with that, fortunately, letting his head fall back onto the pillow with a breathless groan as his hips started to move with Dean’s, eager and a lot faster than normal for them so early.

But they were both eager, be it for everything they’d just done or for the weeks they’d gone without any sex at all, but it wasn’t long at all until Dean was already hooking Cas’ leg around his torso, gripping it and letting his hips move with all his might, pulling out and then going right back in, stuttering a few times as Cas also made sure to move his own hips in a bit of a faster pace than his.

“Cas, fuck, do you—you, ah…” His hips stuttered again when Cas used the leg around the hunter’s body to pull him forward, and he moaned along with the angel, pausing for a beat to watch as that gorgeous face contorted in pleasure as Dean found his prostate. Angling his hips, Dean made sure to hit that spot over and over again, letting the sound of Cas’ deep, breathless moans fill the room around them. “Fuck, do you even… ah,” Cas twisted his hips again, letting out something that probably Enochian, and fuck was his voice getting even lower? “Even… know what you, ah… do to me.” He grabbed Cas’ other thigh and lifted it, going even deeper into the angel and moaning in response to the howl that tore from the seraph’s lips when he started rolling his hips even more.

It all felt almost too much—the tight, hot feeling of Cas all around him, squeezing and dragging over his cock just the right way; the delicious silky, sweaty skin under his palms; the sound of their skin slapping together, keeping pace with the movements of their hips and the headboard hitting against the wall; the loud, desperate moans coming from Cas, broken and so clearly overwhelmed as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through them and flooded the bond; and the sight of Cas, of the angel’s back arching off the bed in ecstasy, hands gripping the sheets around them so tightly his knuckles were red, and those parted, chapped lips, those wonderful lips forming a constant silent gasp, eyes closed and just _so fucking gorgeous._

“Fuck, Cas, fuck…” He slammed frantically into Cas now, feeling his orgasm building up in his core, the heat growing and taking over his entire body, the bond thrumming so strongly his skin felt like he was on fire but it felt so fucking good it just made him move more frantically, in and out, in and out, and fuck, he was getting close, _so fucking close…_

He let go of one of Cas’ legs and let his hand fall onto the angel’s length, gripping it and starting to jerk it with all his might, massaging Cas’ cock in rapid tugs, even faster than his own thrusts, feeling the fire get even more intense in his belly, toes curling and eyes falling closed as his own moans began to break, rising in volume as he moved, _and fuck, oh fuck, Cas was thrusting again and fuck, he couldn’t take anymore, he couldn’t—_

Cas howled, and Dean only had a brief second to open his eyes and watch as the angel arched off the bed once more, entire body locking, muscles tensing up as the most sinful moan Dean had ever heard in his life reached the hunter’s ears just as the angel’s cock began to shoot out his relief, white and hot against Dean’s hand as his Grace lip up under his skin until the echo of Cas’ orgasm flooded him.

And with another thrust Dean was coming. He tried to keep his eyes open but he couldn’t, having falled closed as his entire body broke into violent spasms while his orgasm shook him, washed over him like a freaking tsunami, the bond flaring wildly, more intense than Dean could ever remember it being before, sending wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure through his nerves as his hips still stuttered, still chased the sensation of Cas around him, milking his orgasm as much as he could, hand erratic as it gave Cas’ cock a few more jerks.

And then he fell, all air escaping his lungs in one big, shaky breath as he dropped his body over Cas’. He felt the angel’s come sticking to the skin of his stomach but he didn’t care; all he could do was pant against the sweaty skin of Cas’ chest, listening to the frantic beating of the seraph’s heart that pretty much matched his own, both of them panting almost in unison, the rise and fall of Cas’ chest rhythmic and steady under Dean’s head.

It took Dean a while to be able to say anything at all. “Damn, Cas,” he breathed out, “That was…” Fuck, he couldn’t even think straight enough to come up with something coherent to say.

“Intense?” Cas guessed, breath still a little short as well.

A chuckle jumped from Dean’s lips. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a word for it.” Best sex of his life also came to mind, but Dean kept that one to himself. It was true, though. The dry spell hadn’t been pleasant and Dean didn’t really want to repeat it, but fuck if the result hadn’t been totally worth it.

Letting out a happy sigh, Dean nuzzled into Cas’ throat, already feeling the postcoital sleepiness settling in. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this worn out after sex, and that only made his point from earlier about the best sex he’d ever had even more relevant. He knew it was early for sleeping, but the idea was really alluring and honestly, he was quickly convinced.

Cas’ arm tightened around him, and Dean couldn’t even recall it being there at all but his mind was muddled and he felt so content he didn’t care. “We should clean up, Dean,” the angel said, and then turned his head to kiss the side of Dean’s.

Dean let out a low groan in response and made no movement. He didn’t want to get up.

Cas actually chuckled at that. “You know you’ll regret it later.”

Yeah, Dean knew that. He was actually the one to normally point that little fact out, which really said something about his current state right now. He shifted a little, feeling all the fluids clinging to his skin, already drying and making an even bigger mess that would only grow more annoying to clean off if they waited. He grimaced a little at that. Ugh, they really should take care of that, and soon, while it was still wet.

Somehow he managed to let out, “Cas, I’m pretty sure we both need a shower after that.” The words were out of his lips without much thought, and his incoherent mind somehow believed that would be translated into something close to, ‘Well, that’s just too much work, so please let’s just not move at all.’

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case, as Cas seemed to get a whole new meaning out of that. Dean instantly regretted saying anything at all when the angel started to move, clearly with the intention of getting up from their warm, comfy bed.

Dean whined a little and held onto him tighter, but that wasn’t enough to make Cas stop, much to Dean’s annoyance. “Dean,” the angel whispered as he swiftly slid out of the hunter’s hold, getting up to stand beside the bed, “Come on. I’m not lying back down like this.” There was clearly an amused smile in his voice and Dean almost rolled his eyes.

The promise of falling asleep alone right now wasn’t a happy one, but he would be willing to do it, because his muscles were no better than useless mush at the moment. Still, Cas’ hands found his and the angel began tugging, and it was clear that he wasn’t letting Dean fall asleep at all anyway, so the hunter had no other choice but to sigh in defeat as he forced his body to move.

He pointedly ignored the proud, pleased smile Cas sent his way, almost smug really.

Their shower was very uneventful compared to what they had just done, but then again, all of Dean’s stamina was completely gone and all he wanted to do was sleep, so he did nothing more than just close his eyes and sigh happily as Cas’ hands carefully rubbed over his skin under the warm water spray, washing away everything that clung to his body while at the same time massaging and caressing him, tending to him so carefully Dean’s muscles quickly turned into goo under the attention of those expert hands. He did his best to do the same for Cas, but he was almost falling asleep on his feet and the angel kept tugging his hands away whenever he tried because apparently he had no coordination when he was half-asleep, so at some point he kind of just gave up.

Going back to their room and falling naked onto the mattress again was the best thing Dean had ever done. He hurried to bury himself under the blankets and pillow before holding one side of the duvet up to tell Cas to join him once the he’d turned off the lights, drowning the room in darkness except for the light coming from the hallway outside, finding its way inside through the still completely open door.

The angel walked over to the bed calmly, sliding down under the duvet with him, also completely naked, and Dean quickly molded himself against the seraph’s body, moving as close as he could to the seraph and sighing happily when Cas hugged him even closer, tucking his head under the angel’s chin.

He must have dozed off for a while, and he wondered for how long, feeling a little confused as he opened his eyes again and noticed that Cas was still awake, a hand drawing mindless patterns onto the skin of Dean’s side with the tip of its fingers. Wasn’t the angel tired as well?

Before Dean could say anything at all, though, his stomach grumbled loudly, and he groaned lowly as he remembered they hadn't eaten dinner yet. He was hungry, but he didn’t want to get up from that warm bed. Fuck, he really didn’t want to move at all.

“You should rest more,” Cas muttered, moving his hand up and running it through the hunter’s hair. Dean felt the rumble of the seraph’s voice echoing in his chest, and he nuzzled even deeper into Cas’ throat, smiling at the angel’s scent. “I’ll go buy us food.”

“I can make us something,” Dean offered, even though his muscles felt like the opposite of useful and cooperative right then and he really had no desire to get up from that bed, or of having Cas get up either.

“No.” A kiss was pressed to Dean’s hair, soft but lingering, and the hunter sighed contently. “I can go, Dean. It has been a while since I last left the Bunker. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Not finding the strength in himself to argue, Dean nodded weakly, and then actually whimpered when Cas shifted to get up from the bed, taking the comfy and inviting heat of his body with him and leaving Dean cold and alone in their bed. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Cas dressed himself in his suit and trench coat, because he still could not leave the Bunker without them. Dean battled sleep throughout it all, and he was quickly losing the fight.

Still, even with his sleep-muddled thoughts, he was still able to realize something.

“You don’t have your car here, though,” he pointed out, remembering that Sam had taken the Lincoln. They had a few old cars, the ones from the Men of Letters’ collection of classics, but only two of them had any gas in it, and Dean hadn’t looked at their engines in months.

Sure, Lebanon was close, but not _that_ close. Walking there would take too long and it just wasn’t worth it.

An idea occurred to him then, and without much thought he decided, “You can take the Impala.”

Cas gave him a surprised look, his eyes almost comically wide with shock, and it was only fair. Dean never let anyone drive his car but Sammy (and Hannah, but Dean had been unconscious so he hadn’t actually _let_ her do anything, and he didn’t even want to think about that one). But Dean trusted Cas, and he knew the angel wasn’t a bad driver, he was actually pretty good. Slow, true, or careful, as the seraph liked to call it, but Dean knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Dean just smiled at the angel’s reaction, scooping up his keys from the nightstand on his side of the bed and holding them out for the seraph to take, “I trust you, Cas.”

The hesitancy with which Cas reached out and took the keys from Dean was clear, but at last the angel relented and held the Impala’s keys in his palm like it was a treasure. Dean actually smiled a little at the sight.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Cas assured him, leaning back down and closer to Dean to plant a kiss to his mouth, to which Dean responded with a content sigh, lifting his hand to card it through Cas’ hair and grip at the back of the angel’s throat so he couldn’t pull away too fast.

He was already starting to regret giving Cas his keys, because that meant the angel would be leaving him and not joining him back on the bed right now, an idea his body seemed to agree very much with.

Still, his stomach wanted food, and it chose that precise moment to growl again. Plus, that meant the baby also needed him to eat, so really he had no other choice here but to let Cas go. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

Cas pulled away then, and Dean whined a little, following his mouth to steal just one more short kiss before the angel was actually out of reach. Cas looked amused then, a small smile playing on his lips as he lifted his hand to caress Dean’s cheek.

“I will not take too long. I promise.”

Slowly, Dean nodded, letting himself lay back down onto his bed. “I might take another nap, though,” he admitted as his body eased itself back onto the nest and under the covers.

He felt Cas closer all of a sudden, and he was surprised when he felt the angel kiss the side of his head. It still caught him off guard when the angel did that sometimes, but it still made him smile.

“I’ll let you rest for a bit longer,” Cas whispered as he pulled away. “You should eat soon, however.”

Dean nodded numbly in response, and then watched as shadows took over his room completely as Cas left, closing the door carefully behind him.

He stayed awake for a little while, but not too long. He felt good, for the first time in days, and his body actually felt relaxed enough to truly _rest_. He’d been sleeping better lately, that was true, but right now he knew this particular night would have him sleeping like a baby, without any fear of illusions or nightmares making an appearance and plaguing his sleep.

And for the first time in days, he actually slipped into a truly resting sleep without the angel by his side.

***~*~*~*~***

Castiel was careful as he drove the Impala to Lebanon. He knew how much Dean cared about his car, and the angel knew he had to be mindful of how he drove it— _her,_ he corrected himself in his head—because he knew how much she meant to Dean.

He could instantly feel the difference to his own car as he drove her. The Impala felt heavier, but also her engine seemed much more responsive than his car, much more powerful, as a much lighter touch of his foot onto the gas pedal already sent her surging forward. He had to admit he enjoyed driving her more than his own car.

He did not rush, however, as easily as it would have been for him to do with such a powerful engine. He felt tired, muscles aching to complain about every single movement he made, but he ignored it. It was true that he would much rather stayed back with Dean in their bed than going out, but his mate and child needed rest and food, and he wanted to make sure they would be getting plenty of both tonight.

And as Castiel thought back at Dean, sleeping soundly in the Bunker, a smile formed on his lips as the memories of their early activities flooded his mind. The angel was relieved to see Dean well again, to not be afraid that at every second the hunter might be pulled back into the prison built by the Mark inside his own mind, and he was glad that finally they had been able to be that close again. The bond felt warm, content, sated and happy, and that put Castiel in a very good mood, his vessel feeling oddly lighter than it had in weeks.

There was still something bothering Dean, however; Castiel had not failed to notice it. He’d assumed Dean was still struggling with the Mark, even more than Castiel could sense, but apparently (though not surprisingly) the hunter did not wish to share just how much. During the past few days, however, Castiel had started to wonder if perhaps the reason for Dean’s unusual tension and quietness was something else, although he had no idea what that could be. Dean had not shared anything useful through the bond, and forcing his own consciousness through the connection was an invasion of the privacy of Dean’s mind that the angel knew he had no right to make, so for now he would wait until Dean felt ready to tell him.

Tonight he’d seen it in Dean’s eyes; seen the weight of whatever fears plagued the hunter’s mind, and he’d tried to soothe him, even without actually knowing exactly what he was trying to protect his mate from. He’d done what he could, attempted to give Dean comfort and support in silence, and that was all he could do at the moment, anyway.

He would be able to help more efficiently if Dean opened up to him eventually. For now, however, he would simply wait.

Once he reached Lebanon, Castiel remembered the name of a restaurant Dean had been very happy to eat the food from when Sam had bought it once, so he went straight there, parking the Impala without a problem, feeling glad and a little proud of himself that he’d found it so easily with the vague directions he remembered hearing from Sam weeks ago.

He parked the Impala as close as he could to the side entrance and shut off the engine. He looked around, taking in the various cars around him before he locked the Impala and crossed the parking lot in quick, paced strides, eager to be done with this and go back to the Bunker. The uneasiness he always felt when he was away from Dean had begun to settle into his bones the moment he’d left the Bunker, and it was already beginning to bother him.

The restaurant wasn’t full, but there were indeed a lot of people inside, chatting and eating. It was already after 7PM, so that wasn’t surprising by any means. Fortunately the man at the counter said the meal he ordered—steak, white rice, French fries and a side of salad, plus extra pickles and mayonnaise in one of them, at Castiel’s request—would not take longer than 20 minutes to be prepared, so Castiel sat on a stool at the bar on the side as he waited, seeing as there was no reason for him to take a table when he would not be eating inside the establishment. The man behind it offered him a drink, and he politely declined.

He paid attention to the bond as he waited, feeling it constantly buzzing the soft, calm way it normally did whenever Dean was far away or asleep. With Castiel so far, that would only change if something happened, and the angel made sure to stay alert so he would be aware in case that happened.

He simply watched the patrons as the minutes ticked by slowly. They were all talking over their foods while the restaurant employees walkied all around the spacious room, following the pattern of paths drawn by the display of the tables, taking and delivering orders, refilling glasses and bringing more napkins whenever a table requested it.

It was all constant and unchanged, a practiced rhythm that happened here every day, and Castiel got distracted with it, just watching the exchanges happening all around him in silence. He'd always been fascinated by human interaction, and as he had nothing else to do at the moment, he let himsef indulge a little in it, observing quietly from his seat.

That was, until he felt the odd shift in the air around him.

Magic; his Grace immediately warned him, and Castiel’s muscles tensed at the feeling, body stiff as he let his eyes roam over the other occupants of the restaurant, attempting to locate the witch without using his tired, weakened Grace.

The people in the restaurant stopped what they were doing all at once, forks pausing midair, eyes suddenly empty as all voices were abruptly silenced. There was a weird moment where nothing happened at all, not a single sound or movement made inside the room, until without a warning every single human was moving.

They were suddenly all standing, and then calmly they walked toward the exit without a word or glance to the side, gazes devoid of any comprehension of what they were doing, as if hypnotized, having falling into a trance somehow, bodies moving accordingly to what the magic was telling them to do.

A mind compulsion spell, Castiel guessed.

They all left—the patrons, the staff, everyone. Every single person in the restaurant was gone in a minute, leaving Castiel standing alone in the establishment, frowning confusedly but completely tense, body ready for a fight. He reached into his coat and got his Angel Blade out, glad that he’d had the presence of mind to take it with him when he’d left the Bunker.

He followed the people out the door hesitantly, ready to fight if necessary, and once he stepped outside with watched with confusion as all people either walked away from the restaurant or got inside their cars before driving off, as if they had been simply compelled to leave.

Castiel assumed that had been the intention of the witch, although he couldn’t be sure why.

Once all the patrons and employees were gone there was no one left in the parking lot, not another car in sight but the Impala, so the angel turned around and walked back inside building, determined to figure out what had just happened.

A part of him knew that he should let Dean know about this, but the hunter was sleeping and having his pregnant mate anywhere near a witch was not something Castiel wished to see happen, so he refrained, deciding he could solve this on his own. He had accompanied Dean and Sam on enough hunts in the past to have an idea on how he should proceed.

He could not locate the witch; could not tell whether they were outside or inside, not with his Grace so weak, so he chose to investigate. He checked all rooms inside the building—the kitchen, the restrooms, the office, but there was no sign of a single soul apart from his own inside of it.

Blade still gripped tightly in his hand, Castiel returned the main area of the restaurant, intent on finding this witch before she could harm anyone, but that would be hard to do if he couldn’t find her. Maybe they were hidden, he reasoned, although they would have to be a very powerful witch to manage that. He was weak and could not track the source of their power, but the moment he was near enough he should be able to sense them.

But how could they have—

The air shifted around him again.

It was like removing a cloak. This energy, this current of power had apparently been completely hidden from him until then, but suddenly it seemed to just appear out of nowhere, showing itself to him without a warning and it instantly had every single part of him tensing in alarm and prepared for a fight.

It was a very powerful witch, then.

That was all he registered before his body suddenly froze, forced into stillness like a statue. It was like someone had stripped the control of his vessel from him, and all he could do was watch as his muscles locked for a beat before they all gave out at once, and then his body hit the floor beneath his feet, limp like a lifeless corpse. He tried to fight the numbness that spread over his limbs, tried to regain control of his muscles, but his mind felt foggy, thoughts incoherent, orders not quite making it to their destinations through his nerve endings. His lungs ached as his throat closed, completely cutting off his oxygen intake.

A pair of booted feet came into view before his eyes, though he found it hard to concentrate on the sight of them. Keeping his eyes open seemed like a task impossible to accomplish in that moment.

“Well, you would look at that,” a voice came from over him. It had a thick accent, Scottish it seemed, and clearly female, “Imagine my luck to have you just stroll right into town in that monstrosity of a car, Castiel. I was waiting for Dean, true, but…” He saw the figure before him lowering her body, although all he could still see from her was her lower half, and then he felt a hand on his face. He wanted to push her away, to flinch under the unwanted touch of her long fingernails scratching lightly against the skin of his cheek, but he could not move his arms. “I’ll just have to make do with you. I’m sure I can make it work.”

Castiel managed to open his mouth, but all that came out of his lips was a weak, strangled whine. His vision went completely out of focus and would not return, his eyes slipping closed as consciousness escaped him, giving him no chance to fight the numbness that had taken over his entire being as darkness engulfed him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear, the song lyrics featured in this chapter are from the songs _Shake It Off_ by Taylor Swift and _Thinking Out Loud_ by Ed Sheeran. Again, I own nothing.
> 
> Yes, I wrote Dean dancing to Taylor Swift because in this story the scene in 10x12 didn't happen and that's just a shame. I found the idea of it funny and I regret nothing. XD
> 
> The case Sam and Charlie worked in this chapter is the same one from 10x16, "Paint It Black".
> 
> The idea to track down Cas' Grace through his feathers is something that has been on my mind since season 9, because it is canon that Dean and Sam have angel feathers and well, we can only assume some of them might be Cas', because the odds are that the angel who's been around the most in all those years is bound to have lost at least one feather around them. I tried to be subtle about the idea on chapter 13, and I did hint at it just a little. Kudos to Halse for figuring out my plan so early on. ;D
> 
> So, who's ready for Dean with an adorable little baby bump?<3 :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puppy dog eyes* Okay, okay, I know, this is very late, and the delay was actually kind of my fault so... I'm sorry. :(
> 
> But I have a little story to tell about this chapter so you know what happened, which will explain one of the two reasons why I've decided to nickname it Frankenstein.
> 
> Okay, so I have a little editing schedule I try really hard to follow, but this last month was a little crazy and I decided that I could handle editing this chapter a little closer to when I was going to post it than what I normally do. But there was a lot to be changed in the chapter. I had to cut out a scene, add three others and change the order of a lot of things, so I literally just copied and pasted the scenes in the order I wanted them (no editing whatsoever, they didn't even connect) and thought I would fix it once things calmed down.
> 
> ... And of course I forgot to do that.
> 
> Okay, I didn't forget I had to edit the chapter, I kind of forgot how bad it actually was, and I thought I could handle it when it was time to post it.
> 
> So when I opened 19 to edit three weeks ago I realized my mistake. So yeah, this chapter was a complete mess with scenes that didn't connect at all and looked like a true abomination, so I decided to nickname it Frankenstein. I've been working on it for 3 weeks straight now to get it ready.
> 
> Anyway, I apologize for the delay. It was pretty much my fault. :/ So, yeah, I'm sorry. :(
> 
> There's another reason for the nickname, but I'll mention it in the end notes because of spoilers. :P
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains **suicidal thoughts from two main characters** and a strong dream sequence containing images that depict miscarriage and the death of main characters by means that include suicide. It also contains spoilers for the episodes 10x15, "The Things They Carried", 10x17, "Inside Man", 10x18, "Book of the Damned", and 10x19, "The Werther Project".
> 
> Please don't hate me!<3 ;) (I feel like I'll be saying that a lot from now on. XD)

Dean woke up confused.

It was quite an abrupt thing, too, like when you know something happened to wake you up—someone jolting you or hitting you with a pillow, or even just a loud noise that happened so briefly that all you could hear as finally consciousness dawned on you was silence, so you were left confused and wondering what the hell had woken you up. But the thing was, he had no idea what it had been, all he knew was that whatever it was it hadn’t been supposed to happen; somehow that fact was clear as crystal in his mind, and that thought was what prompted him to move. Groaning lowly as his body complained, he sat up on the bed, looking around startled, and at first he was very confused, blinking several times and squinting at the darkness that surrounded him for quite a few seconds. For a moment, he didn’t even know where he was.

Eventually his vision adapted, eyes adjusting to the lack of light at last, and finally he realized that he was in his room in the Bunker, with the familiar feeling of the nest under him, soft pillows cushioning everything around him and a soft duvet covering his entire body, enveloping him in a warm, comfy cocoon. He was alone, though; that was the next thing he noticed. And the third one was the fact that he was naked, but soon enough he remembered that Cas had left to get them food after they’d had sex for the first time in weeks and Dean had been so worn out afterwards that he hadn’t even bothered with clothes, so that pretty much explained everything.

That thought calmed him a little, and for a moment he considered just curling up again and going back to sleep because if Cas hadn’t been the one to wake him then the angel was probably not back from Lebanon with their food just yet.

He still didn’t know what had woken him up, though, and for some reason that really bothered him. He could feel a weird rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart beating a little too strongly against his ribcage, just enough for it to hurt a little; for him to know that he had in fact been woken with a start and for some reason he hadn’t yet calmed down. It was almost like his body was prepared for a fight he didn’t even know was happening; like it could sense danger when his mind had yet to register anything of the sort. It was a little weird.

He still considered just lying back down on the bed now that most of his disorientation had passed, but he figured he wouldn’t manage to fall asleep again now, not with how uneasy he felt in his own body for no apparent reason, and Cas should be back with their food any second now anyway, if he wasn’t in the kitchen already setting up the table or something, that dork.

Dean smiled at the thought.

The clock on the nightstand told Dean it was some time past nine already, and if the hunter remembered correctly Cas had left sometime around seven, so he had to be back, right? That was more than enough time to go to Lebanon, buy food and come back. Maybe the angel had just decided to let him sleep a little more, considering just how exhausted Dean had been earlier. It surely sounded like something Cas would do.

But why did the bond feel so numb, then?

Dean got up at that thought, fetching a clean pair of boxers from his closet before his eyes fell onto the chair by the wall, where his jeans and the black shirt he’d been looking for earlier were neatly arranged in a little pile. Man, he’d really been half-asleep when Cas had left if he hadn’t even realized the angel had done that. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight of the clothes, feeling warmth spreading around in his chest yet again.

He knew he and Cas were the only ones in the Bunker right now and there wasn’t much need for clothing if he didn’t want it, but he also didn’t want to risk being buck naked outside of their room and have Sam and Charlie pop up claiming that they had been close by since somehow they had managed to lose the Stynes and had decided it was time to return to the Bunker, because that would be a very, _very_ awkward situation that he definitely did not want to ever have to experience. It was already a miracle neither of those two had walked in on him and Cas yet, and Dean was very grateful for it, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

And now that he thought about it, Dean realized that maybe he and Cas having sex with the door open might have been a bad idea, but well, he couldn’t undo that now, and it had turned out just fine so yeah, no harm done. They’d just close the door next time, he thought to himself, making a mental note.

Probably.

Once he was properly dressed, he walked to the library, but Cas wasn’t there. Was he back yet? How long exactly had it been?

“Cas?” he called out, thinking that maybe the angel really was in the kitchen getting things ready, so he waited for a reply quietly.

But none came.

He started walking again, frowning a little in confusion as he headed to the kitchen, nervousness pouring into his gut, steps growing faster without his consent. He couldn’t feel anything coming from the bond—it wasn’t doing that weird, constant buzzing it always did when Cas was nearby. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything coming from Cas _at all_ , but it felt different than normal, unlike what usually came from the angel when Cas was far away or asleep. There was always something there, just a tiny hint, even if nothing more than a numb and weak reminder, a presence Dean could still feel all the time, but right now the bond felt hollow somehow, empty almost. The buzzing was so weak it was barely there. The last time the bond had felt like this had been when Cas had holed himself up in Absarokee, cloaked by the warding he had painted on the walls of the cabin, and the similarity between both situations could only mean one thing.

There was something wrong.

Or maybe there wasn’t, he thought to himself as he glanced down at the Mark. Maybe Dean was just panicking about nothing because the Mark was playing with his thoughts again, creating fears that weren’t quite real in his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe the damn thing was the reason why the bond felt so numb. Could it even do that? He decided to assume it could, remembering how he couldn’t even feel the bond when he’d been trapped in the illusions during his coma, like it hadn’t even been there at all.

He fucking hated how he couldn’t trust his own mind anymore, and for just a moment he actually allowed himself to believe that the Mark was to blame for this and that he was acting a little insane, that this was just his paranoia acting up again.

That train of thought didn’t last for too long, though, because there was this sinking feeling in his stomach, this weird bubble of anxiety forming in his gut that just told him he was right to be worried, and that truly terrified him. He remembered how he had woken up startled, how he was sure something had abruptly pulled him into consciousness somehow even though he’d had no idea what that could have been since the Bunker was dead silent and with Cas out he was currently completely alone in this entire place. It reminded him of the time Cas had been dying with that fever back in Montana and the bond had woken him up to warn him, minus the weird nightmare with Cas’ worst memories, but Dean was pretty sure the whole thing with all the images pouring into his mind had been specifically brought on by the angel’s fever.

He felt his stomach sink down to his feet at those thoughts, and his worry only got worse when finally he got to the kitchen, only to find that Cas wasn’t there either. He paused by the doorway, lost momentarily, swallowing drily as he took in the sight of the deserted kitchen before he somehow forced the nausea that quickly coiled in his gut down. He patted his pockets, but found them empty, wondering where he’d left his cell. Probably back in their room, he decided quickly as he spun on his heels and walked the reverse way through the Bunker hallways in a much more hurried pace than before. As he walked, he repeated the mantra about how maybe nothing had happened and something had gotten Cas held up inside his head, as if somehow that would make him believe it, as if it would make it real. But really, maybe there wasn’t anything wrong and Dean was having a freak out over nothing, which wouldn't be anything new; maybe he just didn’t know how to read the soul bond yet and had gotten it all wrong; maybe the numbness of the bond was really just the distance, nothing else.

_Maybe he finally decided to leave you._

Dean cursed at the Mark, trying to push it away before it got louder. The last thing he needed right now was the damn thing putting all sorts of gloomy, dark thoughts in his head.

That didn’t help much. The Mark seemed oddly active and while he really tried to ignore the sour taste those words put in his mouth, it wasn’t easy to just push them away; to discard them immediately as if they meant nothing. They weighed heavily in his mind, even if he kept telling himself that he was being ridiculous and that Cas wouldn’t do that.

Or maybe he would and Dean had been right to be expecting the angel to just realize that the hunter didn’t deserve him and that he could do way better. Maybe that had happened tonight and Cas had made a break for it while he still could. He’d insisted that he should go out to buy them food instead of having Dean make them anything right here. Maybe Dean should have read it differently, but of course he hadn’t even thought about it earlier.

Shaking his head as he tried to push those thoughts away, as he tried to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart they brought on, he looked back down at the Mark. “Screw you,” he let out, voice almost a low growl, forcing his feet to move even faster. Something must have happened to Cas, he told himself sharply, and that thought made Dean’s steps even more hurried, his heart beating quickly in his chest as the trip back to their room seemed to take a lot longer than it usually did. As he focused on that thought, on the fear that possibility brought onto him, he felt his head growing clearer as the Mark retracted a little. His mind latched onto the fear of something happening to Cas in favor of all the insecurities that still swirled around in his mind, but that wasn't enough to clear his head fully; it didn't make the Mark completely quiet. He hated how muddled his thoughts still felt; how the control he had on his own mind was rapidly slipping between his fingers and he had no way to change it; no way to freaking stop any of this.

Finally he walked through the doorway of their room, instantly heading for the nightstand, fetching his phone from the top of it. He hadn’t even seen it there when he'd gotten up earlier, but then again he had been intrigued and honestly a little sleepy still, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.

He dialed 2 on speed dial and started the call, lifting the phone to his ear and maybe holding it just a little tighter than normal.

It rang three times until the call was answered.

Dean breathed out a sigh of relief at the sound, because the click he’d just heard meant that the angel was at least well enough to answer his phone. That meant a lot already. “Cas,” he breathed out into the phone, already feeling a few pounds lighter in his chest, “Where are you? You’ve been gone a while.” He tried to make his voice sound light and unworried, since there was really no reason to let the angel know just how badly he had been freaking out just then. That would only get the seraph even more concerned about the hunter’s sanity than he already was, and Dean definitely didn't want that. But as much as he tried to hide it, a slight hint of worry still managed to slip into his words without his consent.

And much to his surprise, the voice that replied wasn’t Cas’.

 _“Well, hello, Dean,”_ a clearly female voice flooded the small speakers, a heavy foreign accent coating every word that rolled off her tongue. Dean’s entire body stiffened in surprise at the unexpected sound, spine suddenly going rigid, shoulders tense, eyes a little wider as his brows furrowed together. _“I was already getting impatient. I’ve been waiting for a call from you for two hours now. Trust me when I say that you don’t want to see me bored.”_

Dean didn’t know who this was, but that wasn’t what he asked next. No, the first thing that came out of his mouth was, “Where’s Cas? What have you done to him?”

A low chuckle reached his ear, dry and short, and it sounded all kinds of wrong. Alarms were ringing everywhere inside his head, loud and frantic as his heart picked up a faster pace once more. _“Oh, your… angel.”_ There was something weird about the way she said the word, clear disdain melting into her voice. She sounded unimpressed, almost belittling. It made a spark of anger flicker to life in Dean's gut. _“He really doesn’t look like one, at least. Well, regardless, your precious little Castiel is here with me. We’re... how do the kids say these days? Hanging out, isn't it? We're best friends already.”_

“What?” What the hell was thing woman on about? And who the hell was she? And most importantly,  _why the hell did she have Cas' cell?_

_“Well, it is true that he has been unconscious the whole time, but no matter. Personally, I think we really hit it off. You might have some competition, Dean.”_

“Who the hell are you?” Dean growled, already moving around the room again, pulling his weapons duffel out from the closet and tossing it onto the mattress, opening the zipper with a sharp tug as he balanced his cell on his shoulder, tilting his head to the side so he could press his ear against the phone and keep it in place. He glanced inside the bag to make sure all his weapons were still inside of it, even though he already knew he hadn’t taken any out. He just had to make sure, though. “And where the hell is Cas?”

 _“I’m offended, Dean,”_ the woman replied, her voice almost like a purr, but louder and higher, and where the hell had Dean heard that accent before? It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint it; couldn’t find the face it belonged to anywhere in his memories. _“I’m not exactly someone to slip your memory so easily. Although we did only meet once, I’m told I’m very, very difficult to forget.”_

Dean tried to remember, he really did, but nothing was coming to his mind. He felt angry at himself, because apparently they’d had an enemy out there to be worried about all this time and he didn’t even know. And now she had Cas.

Fuck, he’d screwed up again, hadn’t he?

 _“Now, tell me, Dean,”_ She purred again, sounding actually amused, like somehow this was funny to her; all part of an inside joke only she knew about. Letting out a low, mocking hum, she asked, _“Did that girl ever recover? That attack dog spell was quite strong.”_

And that was when it clicked.

Dean felt his hand shooting up to grip his phone even more tightly than before, closing his duffel quickly with his other hand and reaching for the rest of his clothes, because suddenly he knew who was on the other side of the line, and that person could very, very easily hurt Cas at any freaking second.

Lowly, almost like a growl, he let out, “Rowena.”

They hadn’t heard from her in months, and honestly, Dean hadn’t thought she would ever bother them again after the whole thing at that hotel months ago. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she might come for them at all. He didn’t even know how she’d found them in the first place or why she was even doing this right now, because really, she’d gotten away, so why come back? Why look for the hunters who had tried to kill her when they had no way to track her? The smartest choice for her would be to just vanish, take the chance she’d gotten and make a break for it. They weren’t exactly even trying to look for her with everything they had to deal with right now, so why did _she_ look for them at all?

She made a pleased sound that once more sounded way too much like a purr, and Dean could hear the smug, pleased smile in her voice as she replied, _“There you go. Was that really so hard?”_

“Where are you? Where’s Cas?”

 _“Exactly where you think he is, Dean,”_ Rowena replied calmly, sounding almost distant, like she wasn’t completely paying attention to the conversation, like she had suddenly lost interest. If it was meant to annoy Dean, well, she succeeded, _“Some restaurant with awful red walls and a terrible old western décor? "_

Yeah, Dean knew exactly what restaurant she was talking about, and he felt truly relieved at the realization. At least they were in Lebanon; she could have taken Cas pretty far with how long Dean had been asleep.

Fuck, this was all Dean's fault, hadn't it? If he hadn't been asleep for two freaking hours then he might have noticed there was something wrong with Cas a lot sooner. If Rowena hurt Cas, Dean would be the one to blame.

_"I was waiting for **you** to show up, of course, but well, I figured little poor, fragile Castiel would be good enough for me. After all, you won’t let anything happen to him, and that’s exactly what I need. We’re waiting, Dean. Don’t leave me hanging more than you already have, it's very impolite. Not to mention, waiting puts me in a… bit of a mood, and don't forget that the only thing I have to distract myself over here is Castiel.”_

The call disconnected then, and Dean all but threw his phone onto the bed, kicking his feet into a clean pair of socks and fetching his boots, hastily putting them on and cursing when his fingers fumbled a little with the laces, but soon enough he managed to actually tie them properly and was already throwing on a flannel shirt and an extra jacket. He hauled his duffel over his shoulder once he was dressed, grabbing his phone quickly and practically making a run for the door.

As he stepped through the Bunker, his pace rushed and heart racing inside his chest, all he could think about was Cas, fear seeping into his very bones as he was overly aware of the fact that Rowena wasn’t just some inexperienced witch who wasn’t sure of what she was doing; who’d had nothing more than a few years of spell practice and channeled her power from the demon who owned her soul. No, Rowena’s magic was in her blood, and she was old and powerful and hurting Cas would be very easy to her, if she hadn’t hurt him already. She had done something to him, that was for sure, because it didn’t feel like Cas was just unconscious; Dean was being _blocked out_ somehow.

At least Cas was still alive; that much he could know for sure, since even if the bond felt limp and numb right now, it was still there.

He paused when he got to the library, mind clearing up a bit just as those last thoughts truly registered in his head, steps halting abruptly as suddenly it occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to win this if he was going in prepared for a fist fight. He was going up against a _very powerful witch._ He’d gotten so panicked he’d reacted purely on instinct up until this point, but now that he really thought about this, he was finally able to realize that he had to be smart about what he was going to do. His hand shot up to rest on his stomach, and briefly he wondered if the Mark had taken advantage of his panic and made his thoughts muddled so that he wouldn’t actually think this through.

He cursed the damn thing again, thinking of the risk he could have put his baby through. Well, this was going to be risky still, and he hated that he had to put his child in danger again, because this was the reason why he wasn’t hunting anymore. But he had no choice here, because this was _Cas_ , so at least he had to make sure he had a good fighting chance; that he could win this easily and without any harm coming to his little ball of light or Cas. He had to protect them both, and he could not fail. He had to actually think about this.

Shaking his head, he paused, actually trying to figure out all the variables to this, and as he did that one fact became clear in his head.

He had to call Sam.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam jumped, his head flying up as he was abruptly startled into consciousness by the obnoxiously loud sound of his phone ringing. Looking down at himself, he realized he had once more fallen asleep sitting at the table doing research. Fortunately, he had not drooled all over the ancient book placed on the table before him this time.

Rubbing his hand over his face in a very futile attempt to scrub the sleepiness away, he picked up his phone, blinking and glancing down at the screen, only to realize that it was already 9:30PM. Wow, okay. How long had he been asleep for? He was pretty sure the sun had still been up in the sky when he'd fallen asleep, but clearly that wasn’t the case anymore.

Oh, right, Dean was calling him.

He accepted the call, rubbing his eyes one last time and leaning back on the chair as he stretched his muscles a little, lifting his arms behind his head and hearing his spine crack with the movement. He should really stop doing this; it was doing terrible things to his body, pushing himself with so little sleep, and he knew it would only get worse with time. He wasn’t exactly growing younger.

But, well, he didn’t exactly have a choice.

That train of thought seemed to be in a recurring, endless loop inside his head lately, but it didn’t seem like it would go away anytime soon.

“Hey, Dean,” he greeted his brother, trying to hold back the yawn that quickly built up in his throat. He didn’t quite manage to stop it, but at least he made sure to let it out silently so Dean wouldn’t hear it on the other end. He really should get more sleep, he was barely closing his eyes these days, normally for just a couple of hours at a time, and that was really getting to him.

He really wanted some coffee right now.

_“Sam, Rowena has Cas. I need a spell to slow her down or something. I just don’t know what might work on her. I mean, she’s old and all, I don’t think a normal hex would be any help. It has to be something strong. What was that book you were reading last year? The ancient thing about blood witches? I can’t find it anywhere. Or maybe the one—”_

“Dean, slow down,” Sam stopped him before Dean could continue, his brain struggling to process everything he was hearing when he had just woken up. His mind decided to latch onto one single fact at a time so it had the chance to process everything. “Rowena has Cas? How the hell… how could that even happen?”

_“Cas went out to buy food like, two hours ago, and she jumped him, I think. I don’t know. He’s knocked out, apparently, or something like that. I don’t know what she did to him.”_

Sam could very easily hear the panic in his brother’s voice, and it worried him greatly, because obviously Dean wasn’t thinking clearly right now, and that wasn’t good at all. Shaking his head, he somehow managed to make his mind think coherently enough to ask, “How do you know that, though? Where are you right now?”

_“At the Bunker. I called Cas’ cell because, I mean, he’s been gone for a while and I got worried because the bond feels weird, and Rowena picked up. She said Cas’ out but she didn’t say what she did to him. I know where they are. I have to go there now, before she…”_

Sam swallowed, feeling a stab at his own heart at those words; at the way Dean didn’t seem able to even finish that sentence, instead letting his voice trail off and die at his throat because he just couldn’t possibly voice the rest. The panic in Dean’s voice was very obvious, so much that Sam could feel his own self start to panic just at the sound of it, because this was so very bad. Losing Cas would cripple Dean, Sam knew that, and they were connected anyway. If they lost Cas, Dean would die too.

Oh, this was very, _very_ bad.

Sam pushed himself into work mode, scanning his brain for the title of the book Dean had mentioned, because that one had a few very strong spells that should be able to slow down Rowena somehow, at least to some degree, and hopefully that would be enough for Dean to get a jump on her. Finally he remembered it, and after hearing it Dean found it quickly enough, so only a few minutes later Sam was hearing his brother shuffle around in the background as he looked for the ingredients to prepare the spell he’d found and worked on the hex bag he would carry to use the spell.

Sam listened in silence, countless questions piling up in his mind. How had Rowena found them? Why had she looked for them at all? Why go after Cas? He wanted answers to all of them, but he needed to be practical right now, and he was pretty sure maybe Dean didn't even know much right now either, so he chose to stick with the questions he knew his brother could answer.

“Where are they, Dean?” he asked as his brother worked. He really didn’t like the idea of Dean going up against Rowena on his own, and he couldn’t decide if the Mark made this whole thing better or worse. It made Dean stronger, true, but the incident in Iowa a few months ago still hadn’t left Sam’s mind and he feared it might repeat itself if Dean went up against such a powerful witch. It also really didn’t help that Sam still had no idea what had really happened back in Spencer, so of course his mind ran wild with ugly thoughts. Maybe it would be better for Dean to wait for Sam and Charlie to join him so they could help, just to make sure he would be fine, and really, three against one sounded like way better odds than Dean doing this solo. “Maybe Charlie and I can—”

_“There’s no time, Sam. They’re in Lebanon, and the clock’s ticking right now. I can’t just sit around and wait for you two to get here, and you can’t come near the Bunker, anyway.”_

Sam let out a sigh. There was just no way he and Charlie could make it in time if Dean was really intent on going right now. They were four states away. “But, Dean, maybe—”

 _“She said not to keep her waiting, Sam.”_ Sam did not miss the way Dean’s voice shook as he spoke. _“She… She’ll kill him. I can’t…”_

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sam closed his eyes, squeezing the cartilage between his fingers until it hurt a little. “Okay,” he breathed out, although it was the opposite of what he wanted to say right then. “Okay, yeah, I hear ya. Just… call me when it’s over, okay?” He needed to know Dean and Cas were fine, and already he knew he wouldn't rest or relax at all until that happened. “And Dean, please… be careful.”

_“You got it, Sammy.”_

The call disconnected, and Sam lowered his phone back onto the table, before allowing his face fall to his hands, letting out a heavy, strained breath as he let his palms rub over his skin, getting rid of the last of the sleepiness that still lingered. At least he was fully awake and alert now, but that only meant that he could process the situation better and in consequence, get even more worried and anxious.

He’d known something like this would happen eventually, or at least he had been worried about it. Not Rowena per see, because that one had really come out of nowhere, but he’d just known that at some point the four of them being divided in two groups and so far away from each other would turn out to be a very bad idea, since if something were to happen to two of them, the others were too far away to help. Dean and Cas were both going through a lot and were in no condition to fend for themselves if anything of this sort happened, so of course that with their luck, trouble had come their way.

He had been bothered by this for a while, had had a bad feeling about this situation since he’d left Kansas over a month ago, and he really had been considering just going back to the Bunker for a while now, because he was pretty sure they had lost the Stynes by now. They hadn’t seen or heard anything from them in weeks, hadn't found any hints that they were still being followed, so maybe it was safe for him and Charlie to go back to Kansas, or at least meet up with Dean and Cas somewhere. Maybe they would be safer in the Bunker.

They had been carrying the Book in the warded lead box anyway, so it wasn’t like the Stynes could track it anymore. Technically, those psychos shouldn’t be able to follow them anymore.

He glanced down at his phone, staring at it for a moment, expectation insistent in his gut, but he quickly realized he was being ridiculous, shaking his head and harshly telling himself to snap out of it. Of course his phone wouldn’t ring so soon; he had talked to Dean barely five minutes ago. His brother might only be leaving the Bunker now, or maybe he was still finishing the spell. It would still be at least a few hours until Sam heard any news from him; a few hours for him to know if Dean and Cas were fine.

Fortunately Charlie came back from her trip to town for food pretty soon, and Sam was momentarily distracted as he talked to her, filling her in on the Rowena situation. Charlie was a little hesitant about Sam’s idea about going back to Kansas, since in her opinion the risk was still too high, considering they couldn’t be sure that the Stynes were only tracking them through the Book, and in the end Sam couldn’t help but concede that she did have a very good point. But she did agree with him that maybe it was safe to meet up with Dean and Cas now and that perhaps the Stynes wouldn’t be able to find them as easily anymore, but not at the Bunker. They hadn’t taken the Book out of its box for weeks, instead working on all the pictures and notes they had taken of it when Sam had first come to meet her, so they could only assume that there was a chance they had gotten away, but they had to be cautious still.

With that plan in mind, they started packing once they were done eating dinner, preparing themselves to head toward Kansas the next day just in case things went south for Dean with rescuing Cas and they had no other choice, even if they wouldn’t be able to help Dean with Rowena right now. And as they got everything ready for travelling, Sam would constantly check his phone, waiting for a call from Dean, an itch under his skin that just wouldn’t go away, anxiety building up to a point that even Charlie had tried to take his mind off of it by telling him a few stories about her years as a rebellious, hitchhiking teenager.

That actually helped a little with getting Sam’s mind off of their current predicament, but every time silence took over the room for even a few moment he would catch his mind drifting back toward Dean, and he knew he wouldn’t be free from it until he heard news from his brother.

He could only hope both Dean and Cas would be okay.

***~*~*~*~***

The scene Dean found waiting for him inside of the restaurant hadn’t been much of a surprise.

Rowena had indeed been expecting him, sitting on a stool at the bar, her legs crossed and her body turned to the door, red hair tied up in a carefully made bun behind her head, a content, lazy smile on her lips, hand holding a glass of wine. She looked completely relaxed, as if she’d been waiting for someone to come eat with her. Cas’ Angel Blade laid on the bar top just about a meter to the side of where she was, but it was clean, not a single sign of blood on it. That made Dean’s chest feel a little lighter, since it meant the blade hadn’t been used to hurt the angel, but that meant very little. There were countless others ways Rowena might have hurt Cas, so he knew he shouldn’t feel completely relieved just yet.

And he had a very good reason to feel that way. Cas was sitting on a chair at one of the tables to the side, unconscious, body unmoving and head limp, lolled to the side. There were a few symbols painted over the skin of his face and neck with what seemed to be dark green paint, some going so low they disappeared into the angel’s shirt over his collarbone. Dean didn’t recognize any of them, but he knew they must be the reason for Cas’ lack of consciousness, and maybe even for the numbness of the bond.

The place was completely deserted, which was odd at this time of the day, because usually it was packed, even on a Thursday night like today. Not even the bartender was where he should be, and immediately Dean knew there was something terribly wrong with whoever had been here before. He had no idea what Rowena had done to them, but he knew it could not have been something good.

He used the spell as soon as he got the chance, after the initial tense talking was out of the way and once Rowena’s words had started growing sharper and her own intentions had become clear. He’d swiftly lighted the hex bag he’d brought on fire with his lighter and perfectly voiced the words he’d carefully memorized before coming here, not giving the witch even a moment to have any reaction or response to it, and while it didn’t actually incapacitate her as he had been hoping it would, it did seem to knock the wind out of her, knocking her off her balance and making her pant, gripping her chest with her hand as if her heart hurt, and that was already good enough.

Only he didn’t have a chance to actually get to her.

Dean had soon learned exactly what the witch had done to some of the patrons of the restaurant when three men clearly under that damn attack dog spell had jumped him before he could do anything to Rowena. He had fought them carefully, taking a few blows to his body out of distraction because all he could think about was that he could not get hit in his stomach, but fortunately he had managed to only receive blows either to his ribcage or face, turning just in time to keep all the punches away from the baby.

He didn’t kill the boys, just knocked them out, no matter how much the Mark grumbled about how it wanted blood; how much something deep within him _wanted_ to end them. It hurt to resist it, to fight the urge the Mark pumped into his body like poison running through his veins, just like it always did, and it was truly alarming how hard it was getting to fight it; to push it away from his thoughts. It hadn’t been like this since before he and Cas had bonded, and that was a very, _very_ bad sign.

Once the men were down and Dean looked back up he noticed Rowena looked pretty much recovered from the spell he had used and that she had at some point taken her cape off, sleeves dragged up to her elbows, showing Dean all the symbols painted on her skin in red, and the difference between those and the ones covering Cas’ skin didn’t seem to be only the color—these ones were clearly written in a different language as well, or at least another dialect. He had no idea what the purpose of them was, but judging by her stance, by the way the witch was looking at him, satisfaction clear in her eyes, Dean could only assume he wouldn’t like it at all.

The beginning of a spell jumped from her lips, the words foreign to Dean’s ears, though he knew it was some powerful, old, dark magic for sure. His body tensed up in expectation, the Mark hissing in a way he’d never heard it do before, almost protectively, which honestly was a little weird to hear, but all he could do in the second that followed was brace himself for whatever magic she wanted to hit him with, and all he could think about was his baby, fearing the spell would hurt it, fearing what would happen to both of them.

Rowena never did finish the spell, though.

Dean heard her voice fail, the air escaping her abruptly as she released a surprised sound, and he opened his eyes to look at her, only to find the witch across the room on the floor, her eyes murderous as she stared at something behind Dean while she tried to get back to her feet, her hands gripping a nearby chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She schooled her features quickly, like a mask suddenly slipping into place as a very insincere smile took over her lips.

“Fergus,” she let out, and Dean turned his head around, frowning, only to find that yep, Crowley was standing right behind him.

The demon eyed the witch carefully, taking slow, careful steps forward as he approached her, walking past Dean and pausing when he was merely a few feet away from her. His voice was low and unimpressed as he replied, “Mother.”

Wait, what?

“You’re getting rather crafty, convincing my demons to track me for you,” the demon continued calmly, as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary, when all Dean could do was stare at him, or more like gape really, mouth opening and closing like a fish, “And then I find you, in Kansas of all places, with an ancient, mortal spell written all over your skin, having a chat with Dean Winchester and a clearly trapped Castiel. Now, what could possibly be happening here?”

Before Rowena could respond, though, the words flew from Dean’s mouth without a thought, “Wait a fucking second. She,” He pointed at Rowena, giving Crowley an incredulous look, “is your _mother_?” Because Dean hadn’t seen that one coming, like, ever. Although it did make sense. If that was true, he could now see why Crowley was the way he was, having had Rowena as a freaking mother.

“Unfortunately,” Crowley replied.

Rowena seemed unfazed, instead smiling very insincerely at her son, _her freaking son._ That one was going to take a while to get used to. “Fergus, darling, I told you I would be going out for a few nights.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose slightly. “To go out with a _Trent_ , who’s not even real, as I’ve already gathered. I’m no fool, Mother. I’ve known you are up to something for a while. It was only now that I actually figured it out, thanks to this,” He held up a hex bag then that Dean had not seen in his hand until then, the fabric a lot darker than the one the hunter had used earlier. “You’ve been watching me for a while, I presume.”

Dean could see some of Rowena’s confidence waver, but she still held her head up high; didn’t let her surprise show at all. “I had to look out for you, Fergus. Protect you from these… Winchesters,” She pursed her lips at the name, like it was a curse. Dean really wanted to punch her. “That’s what mothers do, is it not?”

Crowley gave her an almost amused look, and Dean wasn’t surprised. Did she really think he would buy that? She might be his mother, but she didn’t seem to know him all too well. Crowley certainly wasn’t stupid, and he definitely wasn’t going to fall for that bullshit. “I’m curious, Mother. What are your intentions here? You could not have possibly thought that light show you prepared would kill Dean, not when he’s bearing the Mark of Cain on his arm.”

Rowena’s confidence wavered even more, and her eyes flickered down to Dean’s arm for a second. Her conceded air, however, didn’t crack, her nose still turned up high. “I was aware of the Mark, and how it could possibly protect him, which is very doubtful, I have to say. I made this spell myself. Not that easy to counter. But either way, even if that happened, the Mark would only protect _him,_ and as it turns out that’s all that really mattered.”

Dean frowned, confused, his eyes jumping over to Cas as he wondered if that was what she was referring to, but it only took a beat for Dean to get what the witch meant by those words, as her eyes then fell down to his stomach and came back up to meet his again, a weird glint to her gaze, suddenly he saw red. His fists closed and he gritted his teeth, and it took all of his will power not to pounce on her and break her neck right there, especially with the Mark egging him on.

She smirked at the reaction. “Your body was not built to carry anything, now, was it? So I placed my bet on simply needing to kill one of you to take care of two at once.”

How the fuck did she even know about the baby?

“Let me guess, Mother,” Crowley spoke before Dean could do anything, “You learned about that little piece of information while peeking through my eyes and listening to conversations not meant for your ears as well?”

Rowena actually smiled this time, looking almost smug, proud of herself. Dean still wanted to punch her. “One of the very first times, actually. That day told me everything I needed to know. From you still having the First Blade ready to go, Fergus, to Dean having the Mark of Cain and… how did you phrase it, Fergus?” Her eyes flitted over to Dean and then back to Crowley, “The little bun in the oven, wasn’t it? Well, simply a nephilim, if you will. Oh, and of course,” She turned to look at Dean yet again, winking, “Also got a pretty nice view of those two. Who could possibly complain about that?”

Dean knew exactly what day she was talking about—the morning Crowley had showed up in their room in Stratford, when he and Cas had been naked on the bed, on their way back to the Bunker after the whole thing in Montana. That had been the day they’d found out that Crowley indeed knew about the nephilim, but they had talked about way too many other things Rowena had not been supposed to know about.

All Dean could do was glare.

Rowena shrugged almost lazily at him, brushing the murderous look in his eyes off completely, like it didn't bother her even in the slightest. Either that or she was a very good actress, Dean honestly couldn't tell. “And anyway, even if the spell hadn’t worked, I would find a way. The Mark is just a curse, after all; the first, true, and a very strong one too, but a curse nonetheless." She gave them a relaxed, calm shrug, shaking her head lightly, like the matter wasn't a big deal at all to her. "It can be removed.”

Dean perked up at that, and he didn’t even think before he asked, “How?” Rowena was powerful, and very much so, they knew that already. Maybe she could really know something; maybe she could actually know of some ancient, powerful spell to remove that damn Mark from his arm.

But the problem was that they couldn’t trust her.

He glanced over at Cas, and then resisted the urge to lift his hand to rest it on his stomach.

Yeah, definitely not. Not at all.

Rowena shrugged again. “I would find a way, trust me. I always do.”

“And what would you need to do that?” Crowley asked, and Dean lifted his eyebrows as he suddenly realized Rowena might be the witch Crowley had been trying to locate these past few days; the one who might be able to read the Book and that he had been keeping locked up somewhere. Dean didn’t even want to know what the hell was up with that.

Rowena's eyes narrowed at Crowley, and she looked like she was trying to figure out where exactly he wanted to get with that question. Suspicion was clear in her features.

When the witch didn’t answer, the demon offered, “Maybe the Book of the Damned?”

That seemed to catch Rowena’s attention, and her eyebrows rose in surprise before she could cover it up. There was a suddenly spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and Dean immediately didn’t like that look. They couldn’t trust Rowena with something like the Book of the Damned, even if she could in fact read it. And it looked like she could. She looked _interested_ , which was definitely not good at all.

That thought made Dean uneasy, nausea battling with the hope that began to bloom in his gut, and he wasn’t sure which one he should lean more towards. The rational part of him knew that hope definitely wasn’t something he should be feeling right now, because to be hopeful of anything that involved Rowena was just plain stupid, but he couldn’t control it.

“It’s been lost for decades.” She covered up her surprise at last, her eyes narrowing a little in something very close to defiance, but she shook her head almost weakly, “You have no way of finding it.”

“I'm not saying I have it," Crowley said, clearly choosing his words carefully, "But if I told you I know where it is, would you know how to use it?”

Rowena’s eyes narrowed even more, head tilting sideways just barely, her gaze calculating and considering, like she was trying to decide whether or not Crowley was bluffing about knowing where the Book was just by looking at him long enough. There was clear interest in her gaze, even more than before, but still, what came out of her mouth next was a firm, “No.”

Dean felt his hope deflate, even though he knew he should not have allowed it to grow in the first place. But then again, who could blame him? They were quickly running out of options now, and if a witch like Rowena couldn’t read the Book, if Crowley, Gabriel and Cas couldn’t either, then who the hell could?

“However,” She smiled a little, stepping calmly to the side and sitting down onto the chair she had used for support a few minutes ago, crossing her legs lazily and resting her chin on her hand, “It is said that a witch from the Grand Coven successfully managed to decode the Book years and years ago. Her name was Nadya.”

The past tense wasn’t enough to make Dean’s hope deflate this time. This was something. “Okay,” He nodded lightly, “Did she happen to… write it down?”

“She did. She made a codex before she was killed by a group of… mindless, selfish savages who wanted the codex for themselves. You should know about them, Dean. I heard you and your brother were part of their little herd now.”

“The Men of Letters?” Well, that was oddly convenient.

“They took the codex she made to read the Book and hid it somewhere, probably one of their… bunkers? I think that's what they're called,” Rowena explained, moving her hand to rest it on the table before her, fingers moving in waves three times so that her nails thumped against the wooden surface of the tabletop in a dry, repeated sound, barely muffled by the cloth that covered it, “If you could find the codex… I should be able to read the Book.”

If the Men of Letters had really killed the witch and gotten the codex from her, there had to be something in their archives about it. Those guys archived everything they did, kept records of centuries of activities in a lot of detail, all filed. They might really have hidden the codex in the Bunker for all they knew.

“Now, don’t get too excited,” Rowena smiled smugly again, like there was some sort of joke in all of this that only she knew of, “Nadya’s codex is not something to make the Book easy to read. Smart witches don’t make spells or anything else that anyone who finds it can use. And trust me, Nadya was smart.” Her smirk widened, and suddenly she looked very smug, “The codex cannot be read by just anyone.”

Of course it couldn’t be that easy. _Of course_ there had to be a catch.

“Fortunately for you, I should be able to read the Book with the codex. I might be the only witch alive who could possibly comprehend such a dark, powerful type of magic, actually.”

And there it was. Honestly, Dean shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that, because this was Rowena they were dealing with, so of course she would want to put her hands on the Book of the Damned. She didn’t exactly seem like the kind of witch to just help them like this. No, she had to have a reason to do this, something she wanted in return.

“And of course you wouldn’t do that for free,” Dean let his disdain pool into his voice as he talked. He already knew the answer, and yet he still asked, “What do you want?”

Rowena smiled, but Crowley beat her to speaking.

“She won’t rot in a cell in Hell for all eternity, that’s what she gets.”

Rowena actually seemed surprised at that. “What are you talking about, Fergus?”

“You’ve betrayed me. You’ve been spiting my demons against me behind my back, plotting the fall of my kingdom, and I have no idea what secret plan you have, but I know that’s the only reason why you’ve been hovering around me for as long as you have.”

“I care about you, Fergus,” Rowena feigned offense, “That is the reason why I came back, why I looked for you. You are my son.”

Crowley’s face remained a stoic, emotionless mask. “Now, tell me, Mother,” He took a few steps forward, just so he was standing right in front of her, but Rowena didn’t even flinch, “If I were not a king, if I did not sit at Hell’s throne, would you ever have come back? Would ever have even looked for me?”

Rowena’s eyes grew sharper, and Dean immediately knew the answer to that question. “Do you not want me here, Fergus?”

Crowley actually paused, and he seemed to think for a moment, considering his next words, Dean assumed. “Not anymore,” His answer was dry, low, but there was a hint of something in his voice Dean hadn’t expected to hear, almost sadness. He had no idea what to make of it. “I cannot trust you, Mother. And maybe you are right, maybe I have gone… soft, as you say. But I know how to act like a king when I need to, and this is what I’m doing right now.” He straightened up, which didn’t make much of a difference since he wasn’t very tall to begin with, but Rowena was sitting down, so maybe it didn’t matter. “Your things are sitting outside. You are no longer welcome in my domain.”

His words sounded final, as if once they were out the conversation would simply be over right there, just like that.

Of course, that wasn’t quite the case.

That got Rowena to stand up, her face at last showing another emotion different than smug satisfaction, her features filled with something very close to anger. Crowley had apparently really caught her by surprise there, her voice almost an indignant squeak as she demanded, “What?”

Crowley paused, and Dean could actually see the annoyance in his face, the impatience, as well as hear it in his voice. “You heard me, Mother. I want you out and away from me. You are a threat to my throne, and I cannot have that. I cannot trust you, unlike how you so vehemently insist I can. You will remove the threat to my crown that is the Mark of Cain, because that way I will not send the entirety of Hell after you, and then you can do whatever you want with your lonely life, preferably as far away from me as possible.”

“I’m your  _mother,_ Fergus _._ How can you—”

“No,” Crowley’s voice grew even shaper, final, “You may have given birth to me, but you are not, and you never truly were, my mother.”

And that was the first time Rowena actually seemed to express some sort of actually truthful emotion, not completely fake, but actually something. There was clear anger in her eyes now, and while they were shining with unshed tears, brighter than normal, there was no sadness in them. Dean was surprised she didn’t pounce on Crowley right there. Her eyes flitted over to Dean, and then back at Crowley. She seemed to be weighing something in her mind, considering her options carefully, although Dean wasn’t sure what those were exactly. He wondered who was stronger here, the centuries old witch or the equally old demon who ruled Hell, and honestly he had no idea. He was prepared nonetheless, his muscles tense in expectation just in case things turned violent.

Finally, she nodded, swallowing a few times before she let out a strangled, “Very well, Fergus.” Her voice wavered a little, but she didn’t let that stop her. A single stray tear fell from her eye, sliding down her cheek, but that seemed to be all she allowed, “If that’s what you want. I will take the Mark off of Dean Winchester, if you find the Book of the Damned and Nadya’s codex. However,” Her eyes sparked dangerously, her voice growing stronger all of a sudden, “This will not be the last time you will hear from me, I assure you.”

Crowley had no reaction to her words, face remaining a mask of indifference, completely stoic and unimpressed.

She began to walk then, hastily grabbing her cape from a chair to the side and carrying it balled up in her hands, not even bothering to look down at it. Her steps were hurried, heels clacking loudly against the wooden floor beneath her feet, and she was clearly intent on leaving the restaurant without another word or glance behind, but Dean couldn’t let her leave, not yet.

“Wait,” he called out, and Rowena paused, raising an eyebrow like she couldn’t believe he had done that. He pointed at Cas, “Fix him.” As a second thought, he also pointed at the men at his feet, “And them. And whoever else you put under any spell, because there had to be more people in here.” He had no idea what she’d done to Cas, and he knew those men would die if she didn’t take off the spell she’d cast on them, just like it had happened to that girl. And he still had no idea what she'd done to the other people she'd found here, but he knew it couldn't be good, so he wanted it all fixed.

Rowena actually laughed, amused, “Now why would I do that?”

“Crowley is letting you go, but I’m not,” he growled, taking a step forward, “You can’t hurt me with your magic, not while I’m bearing the Mark, and even if you do, I die and become a demon; a Knight of Hell who will not let this go lightly. Not even your own son is not on your side on this one if you try anything anyway. Do you really want to see who would win in a fight?”

Rowena’s eyes moved to Crowley, but he had no reaction to Dean’s threat. Most importantly, however, he did not seem to disagree. She almost seemed to be expecting him to intervene in her behalf, but it was clear that he wouldn’t lift a finger if a fight broke out, or that he would not come to her rescue were she to be chased down by Knight Dean. Maybe he would even tip the scales against her like he’d done earlier tonight. She let out a resigned breath, but that in the end seemed to turn into an annoyed huff. She took a long pause to finally do something, but at last she lifted her hand and muttered a spell Dean couldn’t quite make out.

The men twitched, but did not wake.

“The curse on them in broken. They should wake up in about an hour,” She announced, “The spell I used to make everyone else leave has long faded, and they should not remember a thing. The only thing keeping the… angel down are the symbols. Wash them off and he’ll wake up. Or do you want me to do that for you too?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning on her heel and walking out of the restaurant without a single glance behind.

Dean let out a breath as soon as she was gone, and he cast one single look at Crowley before walking toward the door in the back of the bar. He entered the kitchen and proceeded to look for a washcloth. He found one easily enough and wet it in the sink, before quickly walking back to the main area of the restaurant. He was surprised to find Crowley still there, sitting on a stool at the bar, a drink placed on the counter right before him, with a pink umbrella and a freaking pitch fork inside the glass, peeking out from the drink.

Dean had to hold back from rolling his eyes at the scene, but he said nothing as he walked up to the demon just to grab the Angel Blade that still rested on the counter, just because it made him anxious to have it just lying there. He tucked it away on the inside of his jacket.

Crowley had no reaction to it.

He pushed the table before Cas away and pulled a chair closer to sit in front of angel, sitting down on it so he could work better. Suddenly feeling a little hot, he shrugged off his jacket and dropped it onto the table, and then started running the damp washcloth over the angel’s forehead, rubbing the skin until the paint began to fade. Fortunately it was easy enough to remove, he quickly realized.

“I would offer you a drink, but…” The sound of Crowley’s voice surprised Dean. He looked over at the demon, only to see that he wasn’t even facing them, still very much focused on his drink.

“Yeah,” was all Dean could say in response, but he had noticed the attempt at starting up a conversation, so after a beat he said, “So, that was your _mother._ ”

Crowley scoffed, but still didn’t turn around. He moved the pitch fork around in his glass, watching as the umbrella moved with it in the small whirlwind the motion created in the liquid. “Yes, in theory. In reality, she’s nothing more than the woman who gave birth to me, named me Fergus of all damn things, tried to exchange me for three pigs and ran out on me when I was nine.”

Ouch. Well, again, that kind of explained why Crowley was the way he was. Dean wasn’t exactly surprised to find out that Rowena had been a terrible mother and still now, after freaking centuries, was still trying to manipulate her own son.

So much for family reunions.

Dean focused on rubbing the cloth over Cas’ cheek for a moment, and then moved over to the seraph’s nose. But while the paint was easy enough to wash off, Dean still rubbed the places that were already clean a few more times than necessary just to make sure he had gotten everything off. The bond was already starting to feel a little stronger, the buzzing becoming a lot more noticeable, and he assumed that meant he was doing a good enough job of cleaning the symbols away. He had to make another trip to the kitchen by then for another damp cloth, and it was only when he was back on his spot before Cas that he spoke again.

“That’s not what a mother should be, you know?” He moved the cloth over Cas’ chin, sliding it down slowly to the angel’s neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Crowley turn on his seat, but Dean did not avert his eyes from Cas. “That’s not what family should be. Your family is supposed to care about you, to put you before everything else. They do everything they can for you without asking for anything in return, because they love you, and they definitely don’t plot against you.”

Crowley didn’t answer, so Dean continued to work on Cas, cleaning the last one of the symbols away, the intricate one that covered the seraph’s entire throat, and quickly enough he was rubbing away the last line, the last few inches of paint near Cas’ collarbone. It was only when that was gone, when all that he could see before him was clean skin and nothing else, that he asked, “Does that sound like your mother to you?”

The demon didn’t answer again, but Dean wasn’t expecting him to, so he fell silent as he dropped the cloth onto the table to the side and let his eyes dance over Cas’ skin, just to make sure he had gotten everything, pleased to find there was no paint left anywhere, not even a small smudge. A minute passed and nothing happened, even if the bond felt normal again now, exactly as it would if Cas was simply asleep, and Dean was already starting to get worried, because should it take this long? Or were there more symbols somewhere else that he couldn’t see right now? Dean pulled Cas’ sleeve back, but he found that there was nothing on the skin of the angel’s wrist or arm, so was there something wrong? What if Rowena had lied and the symbols weren’t the only thing keeping Cas down? Maybe she had—

Cas gasped, his blue eyes wide as he was suddenly pulled back into consciousness.

“Cas,” Dean shot up straighter in his seat, grabbing Cas’ face with both hands to steady the angel and look into his eyes, “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Dean,” Cas breathed out, his hand shooting up to grab at the hunter’s, his grip tight and almost desperate. He looked around, and seemed confused to spot Crowley sitting a few feet away, but paid the demon no mind as he turned back to the human, eyeing Dean like he was expecting to find him hurt, eyes darting all over the hunter’s body, probably looking for wounds.

“I’m fine,” Dean hurried to tell him, “Rowena jumped you, knocked you out with a spell. But she’s dealt with now.”

Cas didn’t seem convinced, his eyes begging for explanation, but Dean didn’t have the chance to answer any of them.

“Well, this has been truly delightful.”

Dean and Cas both turned to the side on their seats, their gazes falling on Crowley, who had at some point during the short exchange stood up and taken a few steps toward them, his finished drink long forgotten on the bar counter, glass empty and stained with the liquid it had held just a few minutes prior.

“Now that everyone is conscious we can finally talk about the trips your dear little archangel has been making down to Hell.”

Dean frowned, surprised at the words, at the sudden change of tone in the conversation, but maybe he shouldn’t have been. It was Crowley, anyway, so he just brushed it off as he recalled how Cas had told him about Gabriel trying to reach the Cage, and ended up nodding lightly in acknowledgement, “Yeah, he tried to get to the Cage back when the whole thing with Cain went down.”

Crowley looked almost amused, but what left his mouth was actually an annoyed scoff. “He’s been down to that place six times in the last few months, and I assure you that he’s managed to get to the bloody Cage at least twice until now. My demons are quite bothered by it. An archangel isn’t exactly a visitor we want to have down there, especially not so often. It’s making them antsy, and I don’t like that.”

Dean and Cas exchanged looks, and the angel seemed to be as surprised by those words as Dean felt. Well, this just couldn’t mean anything good. They had known that Gabriel was working on some shady side projects they didn’t quite approve of already, but if he had really lied to Cas about it like this, if he’d felt the need to hide it...

What the hell was that psycho planning now?

“Well, you should look into that. That archangel seems intent on giving me a constant headache.” The annoyance in the demon’s voice was clear, but then he shook his head, his demeanor changing a little as he added, “I expect you to call me once you find the codex, Dean.” Dean frowned, confused, and he was about to reply when Crowley cut him off, “I assure you, you will need me to deal with Rowena.”

And with that, he was gone.

The silence that lingered inside the restaurant was a little loaded, and when a moment later Dean turned to look back at Cas, he found a heavy, troubled look in the angel’s eyes.

“You have any idea what Gabriel could be planning?” he asked, because honestly, he was a little lost on this one. What the hell did Gabriel want with Michael and Lucifer? What the hell could he be cooking up? Not only had he gone down there to talk to them, but he had managed it at least once and come back, and that sounded like disaster just waiting to happen.

Cas shook his head lightly, almost weakly. “I have no idea,” he replied, voice low and unsteady, which made Dean wonder just how much energy Rowena's spell had drained from him. “And that’s precisely what’s worrying me so much about this.”

Dean swallowed, nodding numbly because yeah, he agreed with that quite a lot, and he was about to voice that when he paused to take another look at Cas, just then realizing just how pale the angel actually was. He shook his head then, deciding that any guesses or theories about Gabriel’s secret plans could wait a bit now, so he pushed the topic away from his mind. First things first—he had to make sure Cas was okay, and honestly, that didn’t seem to be the case here. He lifted a hand to brush a few strands of hair away from the angel’s forehead, and then let it fall a little, cupping Cas' face gently, thumb brushing against the rough skin of the seraph’s cheek. His voice dropped down to whisper as he asked, “How are you feeling?”

Cas shook his head lightly, apparently also deciding to drop the subject of Gabriel for now as his shoulders slumped, and his entire body sagged a little against the back of the chair. He looked exhausted. “I’m… weakened. Whatever spell Rowena used on me still lingers, but I can feel it fading quickly. It should be gone soon.”

Dean nodded, because that was already something. At least Cas was fine now, and that was all that mattered.

“What did she want?”

“Me,” Dean replied, “She wanted to kill me. She said it was because of Crowley or something, but I doubt it. I think she has a beef with the Men of Letters.” He was going to leave it at that, but then realized that Cas didn’t know the most important (and still unbelievable) discovery of tonight, so he added, “She’s Crowley’s mother, by the way.”

Cas’ eyebrows shot up, surprise clear in his eyes, and Dean really didn’t blame him. It was still weird to even think about it. It actually took a while for Cas to process it, his eyes narrowing a little until finally he commented, “Well, it does explain a lot.”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, it does.” He leaned in then, placing a kiss onto Cas’ lips, then going in for two more before he finally found the will to pull away, resting his forehead against the angel’s as a breath left his mouth.

He could have lost Cas tonight, and he was painfully aware of that now. They could have lost everything.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas whispered, his hand coming up to run through the hair on the back of the hunter’s head.

Dean nodded, and yet the weight on his chest didn’t dissolve. He had been too worried about Cas until now, too panicked, but now that the adrenaline was leaving his veins the realization of how easily everything could have just gone to hell tonight actually began to settle in, heavy and painful in his chest, and it hurt too much to even think about it.

Fuck, Crowley had saved their freaking lives.

“I know,” he replied, swallowing drily, kissing Cas one more time before actually leaning away from him. He was just being silly, he knew that, because Rowena was gone and Cas and the baby were safe now, so he tried to shake the uneasiness off, changing the subject, “Rowena said the Mark’s just a curse. Like, literally, a curse.”

Cas’ eyes flitted down the Mark for a moment, where part of it peeked out from the hem at the end of the sleeve of Dean’s red shirt, before he met the hunter’s gaze again, a question clear in the angel’s eyes.

“She said the Book of the Damned might have a solution for it,” Dean continued, “And that… she might be able to read it, if we find this old codex thing some witch the Men of Letters killed a long time ago made.”

Cas seemed to consider Dean’s words for a little too long. He looked down, a frown taking over his brows, concentrated. He seemed worried. “Dean, we can’t trust Rowena.”

“I know,” Dean nodded, “She already gave us what we need, though. We had no idea this codex even existed, and if the Men of Letters are the ones who have it, it can’t be too hard to find it. We just have to figure out where it is. It might even be in the Bunker. And we might not even need her to make the spell in the end. I mean, maybe the Men of Letters figured out how to use the codex without a witch, or maybe we can figure it out too.” He wasn't willing to just believe Rowena was the only on this whole freaking planet who could use the codex, so he shrugged weakly, actually managing to smile a little as he added, “We just have to find the codex.”

Cas still didn’t seem happy to hear that, a stormy, heavy expression taking over his features that Dean couldn’t really understand instead of the happy, relieved one the hunter had been expecting to get now that they might actually find a way to read the damn Book. There was this thoughtful, distant look in his eyes then that Dean had no idea what to do with. But in the end Cas nodded in response anyway, and well, maybe he was still a little off because of the spell. He had been out for quite a while. Dean decided to just go with that and shrug it off.

They waited a while for the three unconscious men to wake up so they could make sure they were all fine and that Rowena had indeed removed the curse from them, and even though Cas looked pale and still not fully recovered from the witch's spell himself, he still insisted on erasing everything about this night from their minds before sending them away. Once that was done, they fixed everything there was to fix in the restaurant, mostly rearranging the furniture they had moved, before they finally left the place, Dean driving the antique car because he didn’t trust it too much and Cas carefully guiding the Impala back to the Bunker.

They stopped at a diner to buy some food, at Cas’ insistence, even if Dean didn’t feel too hungry anymore. But he knew he had to eat, so they bought some roast chicken, white rice and side salad for the road and then they headed back to the Bunker.

Dean had to admit, he did smile proudly as Cas parked the Impala perfectly in its spot in the center of the garage, slowly guiding the car until it was exactly where the angel had found it earlier.

Oddly enough, the air around them felt lighter, and Dean actually let himself bask in it a little. They had a possible lead for both the Mark and Cas’ Grace now, and adding that to what he and Cas had gotten up to earlier, well, he was pretty sure he was entitled to be in a better mood, even if some of the night’s events hadn’t been so pleasant.

Things shifted while they ate dinner, though.

Apparently Cas hadn't been as fine as he had said earlier. He seemed to grow more tired and weaker as the minutes passed, and it didn’t take long for Cas to start coughing. It was a dry, ugly sound, not like there was anything clogging his airways, instead simply painful and wheezy, and it made Dean’s insides freeze, because this couldn’t be good. Cas didn’t even finish eating, as he was barely able to keep anything down without almost choking around every bite of food, and at some point Dean ushered him to their bedroom to rest, even if the angel insisted he was fine, that fighting off the remains of Rowena's spell had taken a lot more energy from his Grace than he'd thought it would, but that he would be fine with some rest. Dean had scoffed at that, not believing it for even a second, but had decided not to point out the fact that the angel was so fine he was pretty much struggling to breathe and needed Dean to help him walk back to their room, leaning into the hunter to keep himself upright.

With a clenching heart, Dean watched as Cas laid down on the bed, still fully clothed, and passed out instantly.

This wasn’t good. This was the opposite of good.

He really shouldn’t have let Rowena go. That witch really didn’t deserve to just walk out of that restaurant free like she had, and a part of Dean took a twisted kind of joy on the fact that maybe they might see Rowena again if it turned out that they needed her to use the Book after all, so he could just deal with her then.

He pushed that voice away, because it sounded way too much like the Mark, but he knew that wouldn’t be the last time that thought would cross his mind.

Back in the kitchen, Dean finished eating by himself, worry plaguing his every thought. What if Cas didn't get better this time? What if his Grace was too weak to heal now? What if Hannah took too long to find the feathers spell? What if it couldn't be done? What if...?

Fuck, they needed to buy more time. And there was only one way to that, but Dean had a feeling Cas might not agree to do it. He had said back in Montana that he didn't want another angel to die for him.

But maybe Cas had changed his mind. Dean had already been pregnant back then, but they hadn't known, so they hadn't been fully aware of just how high the stakes truly were. Would Cas agree to take another angel's Grace now that their baby's life was also on the line? Or would he still not be willing to kill another angel to save his own life? Dean knew Cas carried a lot of guilt from everything that had happened to Heaven throughout the past few years, for all the angels he'd killed himself and for the ones that had died in the Angel Fall, so that didn't really help. Dean really had no idea where Cas might stand on the matter now, but the fact that the angel hadn't yet brought up that possibility himself already spoke volumes.

Regardless, Dean decided he would bring it up if Hannah didn't find the spell soon, because if it meant saving Cas and their child, Dean would take another angel's Grace without a single thought. Those bastards had done nothing more than screw up his life and now they had kicked Cas out after everything he had done for them, so honestly, he would do it without question.

He wondered if he should be worried about that, but surprisingly, he didn't care.

Once he was done with his food, Dean called Sam to let his brother know he and Cas were fine and that Crowley had showed up to deal with his mother ( _“You’re joking.” “I wish I was, really.” “Well… I guess I get whom Crowley takes after now.”),_ and after Sam had heard the whole story he’d admitted that he had the same opinion as Dean—they couldn’t trust Rowena, but if they found the codex, maybe they could do this on their own if the Men of Letters hadn’t figured out how to use the thing already. Involving Rowena really should be their last resort.

They also talked about finally meeting up, which honestly sounded like the right thing to do right now. Sam and Charlie seemed to finally have gotten away from the Stynes, or at least they were pretty sure they had. They didn’t want to risk leading those psychos to the Bunker, but things were really quiet on their end at the moment so really, what was the point of staying separated? It would make their lives a whole lot easier if they were all together in the same place.

And that way Dean would finally be able to tell Sam and Charlie about the baby, which really couldn’t wait much longer.

But before they could do that, they had to track down the codex, so as soon as the call was done Dean began going through the Men of Letters’ archives to look for anything on a witch name Nadya and her codex.

It took him three hours because again, those guys really loved their precious files and he didn’t have an exact date to go by, so he had to look through way too many folders, but eventually he found it—a recording of a meeting back in 1967 where the Men of Letters had judged a member who had been assigned to hide the codex, but that had apparently built some dangerous thing to keep it in called the Werther Box.

And that member just happened to be none other than freaking _Cuthbert Sinclair,_ the nutjob who had tried to make Dean an exhibit in his own freaky personal zoo.

Yeah. Dean really wasn’t surprised to find out who was the one behind the cursed killer box who held the only way to read the Book of the Damned inside. Really not a surprise at all.

By that time, Dean’s eyelids were already heavy and drooping, mind muddled with sleep, which he knew wouldn’t let him get anything else done so he decided to call it a night then. He took a quick shower before crawling into bed behind Cas, who was already deeply asleep by then. He hugged the angel from behind under the covers, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist, pressing his chest against the angel’s back. With a sigh, he placed a soft kiss to the back of the seraph’s head in a silent promise that he would fix everything; that he would make sure Cas and the baby would be safe.

It didn’t take too long for him to fall asleep, breathing matching Cas’, slow and rhythmic as he, for the first time in months, actually let himself believe those words.

***~*~*~*~***

Cas wasn’t exactly better the next day, but he wasn’t coughing so often anymore and his skin was looking a normal color again, and it really looked like a night of rest had done him good, so that was already something. It meant that at least Cas still had enough Grace in him to recover, that he was still able to channel enough energy from Dean’s soul to heal his Grace, even if just a little.

That didn’t mean Dean wasn’t worried, though, because the coughing could only mean that Cas’ Grace was running dangerously low, and while he couldn’t know just how long they still had to fix that because Cas just refused to tell him, he knew it couldn’t be too long. Dean could only hope that the feathers spell could actually be done and that Hannah wouldn’t take too long to find it.

The next morning Dean showed the angel the recording he’d found and afterwards they began looking for the box, but it took them quite a while to actually locate the damn thing. Apparently it was keep at one of the Men of Letters chapter houses, but the records didn’t explicitly say where that was and they had to dig around a lot into the archives to finally come across an address in St. Louis, Missouri. Of course, after the whole Abaddon incident the house had been abandoned for years, until a family of four had moved into the place in 1973, and then a week later 3 of them had committed suicide, except for the daughter, who still lived there to this day.

It seemed they’d found their place.

Dean called Sam to tell him about the house, and they decided to finally meet up in Fayetteville, North Carolina, the town where Sam and Charlie were headed to work a case the redhead had found, since she’d claimed that with the whole codex thing they deserved another small break from research and that a hunt was the only way to get Sam to stop pawing through his books, which Dean completely agreed with.

They left the Bunker two days later. Cas didn’t seem completely recovered from Rowena’s spell by then, and he still looked outright exhausted, but neither of them wanted to wait much longer to follow the lead on the codex, and the angel was clearly better than he’d been two days ago, and that would have to be enough.

They got to North Carolina quickly enough, just as Sam and Charlie were finishing up the case, and Dean was very surprised to find Cole Trenton there as well. Apparently his friend had been the case and Cole had gotten involved as soon as he’d recognized Sam questioning his friend’s wife. Everyone was actually getting ready to leave the old cabin where Charlie had managed to get some weird possessing worm that made people murderously thirsty (what the hell) out of Cole, but at least the dude was still alive. His friend had died, though, but at least the whole thing had served as a lesson for the guy not to hate Dean as much anymore for killing his dad. He actually finally seemed to understand that sometimes you can’t save the people you care about, that sometimes crazy stuff like this happens and there’s nothing you can do to help, no matter how much you want to or try.

And when Cole said that he hoped not to run into them ever again, well, Dean couldn’t agree more.

They all headed to Missouri once that was done, Dean and Cas in the Impala and Sam and Charlie in Cas’ Lincoln (Charlie’s car was locked up for the time being, since the Stynes had been following it, and the car change had been one of the reasons why they had managed to get away from them), finding an abandoned house outside of St. Louis where they could spend a few nights as they tried to get the codex. They still had to hide from the Stynes, just in case the psychos were still on their trail, so motels were off the list for the time being.

The house was terribly kept, with old stained walls and air heavy with mold, surprisingly a downgrade from all the shitty motels they usually stayed at, which reminded Dean of the time they had done this in every single town they drove into during the whole Leviathan thing, but as uncomfortable as that was they really couldn’t afford the risk of staying at a motel, so this would have to do. Cas made no comment on it, and neither did Charlie.

The house only had one master bedroom with an old, hard queen bed. Normally that would mean some rock, paper, scissors to decide who would take it (which basically just meant that Sam would have it, really, because the damn moose won every time), but now automatically that was Dean and Cas’ room since they were the only couple in the group (it still felt a little weird to hear Sam say that so naturally), while Sam and Charlie took the other smaller rooms for themselves.

They had bought food for the four of them when they’d driven through town earlier, and they were all pretty hungry from the long drive here, so once they were all done with settling in and Dean had taken his vitamins in his and Cas’ room, Dean moved to the living room to eat, finding that the others were already there, spreading their research on the coffee table so they could all take a look at it together later. Dean and Cas took the small couch while Charlie and Sam each claimed an armchair (who needed two of those, really?), plates balanced on their laps as they ate.

The food was pretty good, so it took a while for someone to fill the silence with something other than munching sounds.

“So, what do we know about this chick?” Dean asked he swallowed a meatball from his spaghetti, mouth still a little full. He could feel some meat stuck to his teeth, actually.

Sam shook his head disapprovingly at his manners, but still looked down at all the printed out pictures and notes spread over the coffee table, moving a few of the paper sheets around with his gigantic hand until finally he came across the one he had been looking for. “The house has been in her family’s name for decades, since they bought it in 1973. All of them were killed on the same day but the girl, and no one has even really figured out why. All the deaths looked like suicides, and she had been unconscious in the basement throughout it all, apparently. Since then she’s been known to be very… reclusive. Papers have tried to interview her about what happened but she just won’t talk to anyone about it. An article said they interviewed the neighbors, and they said she barely even gets out of the house. Another said that people think the house is haunted and she’s possessed now. Everyone is afraid of her, apparently.”

“You think the box did something to her?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s under a spell or cursed? I think possessed is a little unlikely, unless Cuthbert actually trapped something in the box.”

Dean nodded, mulling that over for a beat. “If he didn’t, though, then she knows about the box,” he guessed, “I mean, if it killed her entire family and almost her as well. She has to know something’s wrong with the thing. That might be why she’s so weird.”

“Probably, yeah,” Charlie agreed, “She might not know what it really is, though. She might even think it’s the house for all we know. They _had_ just moved in.”

“True,” Sam nodded, humming thoughtfully, “But she has to know it’s something for sure.”

Dean let out a low huff, “Well, she _could_ just move. Maybe she really is cursed, if she chose to stay in the same house her entire family died in, knowing there was something wrong with place and turning into a hermit instead of making a break for it while she still can.”

“She might be trying to keep it protected or contained somehow,” Sam offered, “You know, by locking herself away with it in the house. People have tried to buy the place a few times, but obviously she never agreed to it. Maybe she just wants to make sure it doesn’t get out. The thing killed her whole family, so of course she doesn’t want people playing around with it. And she also might feel… responsible somehow, you know, to make sure it doesn’t kill anyone else.”

“Maybe, yeah. That makes sense,” Charlie commented, “But if she’s really not cursed, if she saw the box and knows that’s what’s wrong with the house, then she might also just be scared to even go near it? I mean, we're refererring to it as a box, but maybe it's something like a safe? Because if that's the case it has to stay stationary, right? If it really was a box she could try to move and take it with her if she wanted to, but I’m pretty sure she can't move it, so if she really wants to keep it contained then the only alternative would be to not move at all and be locked away in that house with it.”

“It is probable," Cas agreed, "And the box is what knocked her unconscious, so it might be in the basement, if that's where she was found.”

Sam nodded, “We’ll start looking there, then.”

Dean simply grunted in response.

They ate in silence for a little while after that, until Sam spoke again.

“We can’t all go, though.” All eyes turned to him, waiting for an explanation. “To the house, I mean. She’s clearly not welcoming to visitors at all.”

Yeah, it sure as hell looked like it, at least. “Well, we can both go,” Dean offered, “Maybe we can have one distract her and the other break in and look for the box?” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Cas turning his head to give him a look, but the hunter wasn’t sure what that was about.

Sam nodded around the bite he was still chewing, swallowing it before finally letting out, “Sounds good to me.”

Charlie nodded in agreement. Cas shifted beside Dean again, looking like he wanted to say something, and when Dean frowned inquiringly at him, the angel subtly shook his head and looked back down at his food. He thought of reaching out through the bond but he had a feeling Cas would just shut him out right now.

Well, it seemed they had something to talk about later.

They all ate in silence after that, and while Dean was still curious about how something was very clearly bothering Cas, he decided to drop it for now. There was something else on his mind right then anyway, and he couldn’t quite push that one away, like there was a tiny little needle that just kept poking at the back of his brain as a constant reminder of it. He resisted the urge to speak up about it for as long as he could, so it was only after they were done with dinner and the dishes were clean, when they were back in the living room but this time focusing on trying to connect their now combined research, that Dean finally asked the question that had been causing a very annoying and insistent itch under his skin since the moment they’d first met up with Sam and Charlie back in North Carolina, and then had been playing on a constant loop inside his head during the entire drive here.

“So, where’s the Book?”

Sam and Charlie exchanged a look Dean couldn’t quite read, and he all but felt Cas tensing up beside him, sitting completely straight, tensen and unmoving like a statue. Dean wasn’t sure what was up with that collective reaction, but he decided to ignore it, instead just staring at Sam and Charlie and waiting for a reply.

Sam was the one to respond. “It’s still in the warded lead box, so the Stynes can’t track it. We…” He shook his head a little, for some reason looking like he was choosing his words carefully, something heavy lacing his voice that Dean couldn’t quite understand, “We haven’t opened the box in a while, because we figured that’s how they were tracking us in the first place. So we’re just going by the pictures. We… haven’t touched the actual Book in over a month.”

The silence that followed was tense, and Dean once more noticed Cas shifting by his side, but he ignored it. He needed to ask about it again, that was all he could think about. “But where are you keeping the box, then?”

Another glance was exchanged between Sam and Charlie, which yet again had Dean confused, because their hesitancy to speak was clear as crystal and honestly a little unsettling.

Until it clicked.

“You’re keeping it hidden?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his surprise, instead letting it flood his voice freely, “From me?”

“From both of us.”

Dean turned his head to look at Cas, finding an absolutely solemn look in the angel’s eyes, gaze heavy and filled with worry, unsaid words floating in the air around them. Dean shook his head at him, before turning back to Sam and Charlie. They had to be fucking kidding him. “Are you serious?” A spark of anger made itself known in his chest, and it bled freely into his voice before he could even think to stop it.

Beside him, Cas shifted on his seat yet again. Charlie swallowed, eyes growing a little wider, but she also kept quiet.

Sam was the only one to speak; the one to break the even more loaded silence that had suddenly been draped over them. “It’s… it’s for the best, Dean.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Dean bit out, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Anger really made itself known in his voice then, mingling in with surprise and disbelief. His fingers twitched against the armrest, hands shaking a little, as if asking to be used, for something to grab. He could almost see the box in his head now, and all his body seemed to want was for him to get up and look for it. The Mark burned now, painfully so, and he swallowed once, twice, feeling his body heating up with discomfort. He wanted to see the box, just that. Maybe open it to simply take a quick look, perhaps only take the Book in his hands; hold it against his skin, because that would soothe the Mark for sure, would quiet it down.

Maybe he could even leave with it. The Stynes wouldn’t be able to take it from him like they had been trying to do with Sam and Charlie, because he had the Mark. He could protect the Book, he knew he could. He could even—

_Dean._

There was a hand on his knee, grip firm and insistent, grounding even. Dean’s gaze fell down to it, not really sure what to think of it at first, until finally he let his eyes snap up, only to realize that everybody was looking at him with very particular looks in their faces. Charlie looked surprised, eyes even wider now, body completely tense, almost like she expected him to just jump up and demand they take him to the Book right then. Sam looked worried, eyes heavy, jaw clenching as he swallowed. He also looked tense, but Dean knew that his brother was actually prepared to leap up and interfere were the need for it to arise. Cas looked the most troubled of all, brows furrowed and eyes so heavily coated with worry that Dean felt his chest grow heavier at the sight. The angel’s hand remained on his knee, warm and solid, and he concentrated on that to try and clear up his head.

He swallowed, his hands closing into fists and opening again, flexing the muscles a few times, as if that would ease the pain he could already feel seeping into them down to the very bone for ignoring the Mark’s requests. He turned his head to look away and down at the papers resting on the table, but he could still feel everyone’s eyes on his face, silent but heavy, and he made sure not to look at any of them again so soon, especially not Cas. Obviously the angel had heard what had just happened in his head, knew exactly where his mind was at and what the Mark was doing, but Dean didn’t want to look up at him to see any more of the sadness and worry he was bound to still find in the seraph’s eyes if he did.

Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head as he fog of confusion provided by the Mark finally dissipated a little. The silence was deafening and he desperately felt the need to break it. “Yeah, it’s…” He swallowed when his voice still failed, hating how scratchy his throat felt for no apparent reason, “That’s smart.”

He didn’t bother to look up at the others again, focusing his eyes on the research and letting his hand reach for the closest thing to him, ignoring the actual ache that had settled into his bones that made the movement a little strained, pain shooting up and down his arm in bursts, like the muscle might actually tear. That, however, meant that he reached for one of the pictures of the Book. He knew all eyes in the room were still on him right then, measuring his every single movement, expecting him to just snap—they were probably even considering tearing the picture from his hand, he mused. But he didn’t let it go, instead letting his eyes examine it because honestly, he had already seen it before, so what was the harm? Charlie had sent all of these to Cas while Dean had been out so the angel could help with trying to translate it, and he and Dean had been using these to do research as well, so really this shouldn’t affect him too much. It wasn't the real thing, anyway.

So he let his eyes scan the familiar image of a yellow, worn page with red symbols painted on them. He recalled a phone call he’d had with Sam a few weeks ago, about how the Book was made out of actual human skin and blood, and he shuddered at the reminder. That witch must have been really sick in the head to actually spend so long working on the Book to figure out how to use it, but then again, to translate this thing, you just couldn’t be sane. Dean was just glad she had managed it and made the codex, or else they really wouldn’t be able to use the Book.

That was, if they could actually figure out how to use the freaking codex, or else they would have to resort to Rowena of all people, and Dean wasn’t particularly happy about that one. None of them were, really.

But he pushed those thoughts away from now, swallowing the feeling of worry and anxiety he already could feel building up again in his gut down before it could grow. They were going to look for the codex tomorrow, and just then they would know if it would work; if they could do this on their own. Then he could draw his conclusions; think of another plan if needed.

With relief, Dean realized that focusing on something else seemed to have been enough to get the Mark to retract a little. Not completely, but enough that it wasn't obvious to everyone else just how much it was affecting him.

Silence took over the room again for a long time, tense and heavy, but eventually everyone seemed to take the hint and began to work on their own research, and eventually they loosened up enough to actually talk. First Charlie, then Sam, and at last Cas, who only then let his hand slip from its spot on Dean’s knee. The angel remained tense, though, Dean could easily tell as much, and he wondered just how much of the Mark’s insistent burning and grumbling he was picking up on, if he could feel the burning itch under his skin as well.

Because the Mark didn’t exactly grow quiet after that, as much as Dean tried to make it so. It kept requesting the Book, complaining about how Dean had dropped the subject, how he should be looking for the Book right now. His skin was itching and bothering him so much he had to actually hold back from scratching at the skin where the Mark resided, because he knew everyone would know what he was doing and he couldn’t let that happen. Having Cas probably hear it all was already enough.

And all of this, how loud the Mark was, made him uneasy, because it couldn’t mean anything good. If the Mark wanted the Book so much, that could only mean nothing good would come of it.

The air grew lighter gradually as they began to discuss their research, since it might help with the codex and they still had to find Cas’ Grace. They had been doing this completely separately until now and Sam and Charlie had probably gotten to different places with their own research than Dean and Cas, and while they had discussed the major stuff over the phone, the little details were also important and now that the four of them were in the same place again maybe they might notice something that had been overlooked before. The air was still a little tense, though, as if the others were just waiting for the moment when Dean would snap again, but he managed to hold his own against the Mark pretty well. It grew louder again as time passed, pretty much screaming inside his head, wailing and cursing so loudly that at some point it became hard for Dean to hear his own thoughts, but he couldn’t let any of that show. There was no need to get anyone even more worried than they already were, because they had just gotten here and already they were walking on eggshells around him and he hated every second of it; hated the subtle, annoyingly often side glances he was getting, the furrowed brows, the worried and tense stances.

But above all, he hated the fact that he couldn’t even say that there was no need for any of that, that they were all overreacting about this and that he was fine, because that was a lie and he knew it too well.

To ignore the Mark, Dean tried to focus on something else, but he also did his best not to let his mind wander too much, as hard as that was. He let the constant buzzing of the soul bond ground him, and eventually his mind drifted toward the topic he knew he should have been thinking about already, but that had somehow fled his mind completely until now because of the Mark and the Book.

Now that the four of them were all here sitting together working on comparing their research and making sense of everything, sometimes with a heavy silence lingering in the air just begging to be broken as they went over their own notes, maybe this would be a good opportunity to tell Sam and Charlie about the baby. Cas was there with him, sitting right beside him, which was the way he had planned to do it anyway.

But it didn’t feel right. The air was still tense, almost suffocating for him with the Mark throwing a fit inside his head, and to make it even worse they were all so tired after the long drive here. For some reason it just didn’t feel right to follow up the whole scene from earlier with a conversation like that, because Dean wanted to do this right, and that meant that he had to tell them the truth the way his baby deserved it, whatever that meant. And he knew that wouldn’t happen today.

He decided to do it tomorrow, once they came back from the hermit’s house. They would most likely have the codex by then, so this would only be even more good news on top of that.

Yeah, that sounded good.

A few hours passed, and throughout it all the tense air remained. Still, more often than not they would be commenting on something, sharing theories and ideas, except for Cas, who was oddly quiet throughout it all, barely saying anything except for when he was actually addressed. So it really wasn’t a surprise when at some point the angel excused himself because he was tired and went to bed. Dean tried really hard not to blush when Cas kissed him goodnight, and he vehemently ignored the looks the other two were giving him, but he did notice their smiles. He was just glad they hadn't said anything.

It was about an hour after that, right when Dean was starting to consider going to bed himself, when a phone rang.

Dean recognized the ringtone as Cas’, and he glanced away from the book he was holding. He had been reading about some angel lore he had stumbled upon in hopes of finding something about angel feathers, but he was starting to doubt he would find anything because a lot of the stuff in the book was really inaccurate, so he let it fall closed onto his lap with a sigh. He looked over at the coffee table, trying to locate the device but not being able to as there were way too many papers and books spread all over it. Cas had probably forgotten it there exactly because it was buried under countless papers. Dean tried to follow the sound, moving a few items aside, but it was Charlie who found the source of the noise, digging it up from under an open book and glancing down at the screen for only a second before she stretched her arm out, offering Dean the device with an odd look in her eyes.

Dean took it automatically, frowning in confusion at her for only a moment until he saw the name flashing at him.

Hannah.

He swiped the screen with his thumb, unlocking it and answering the call, quickly lifting the phone up to his ear. In any other circumstances he wouldn’t do that, of course he wouldn’t, but they had been expecting call from her for days now, waiting anxiously to hear about the spell to track Cas’ Grace, so he had to pick this one up. And anyway, Cas wouldn’t mind, would he?

“Hannah?” he asked into the phone, already feeling his heart beating faster inside his chest, anticipation growing in his gut. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sam and Charlie perking up, felt their eyes on him, but he didn’t look at them.

A beat of silence, then, _“Yes. Dean Winchester?”_ The voice was male, and Dean was slightly taken aback by the sound, but then again, Hannah seemed to be changing vessels a lot lately, so he just shook it off. _“I was trying to reach Castiel.”_

“Yeah, this is his cell. He’s sleeping now, though.”

Another pause. _“Castiel asked me for my help, a few days ago. I assume you are aware of that.”_

“Yeah, I know. Did you…” Dean swallowed, already feeling the hope growing in his chest, “Did you find anything? A spell, or… anything at all?”

 _“I did.”_ His hand gripped the phone a little tighter, and he closed his eyes as a breath escaped his lips. Relief flooded his insides, sudden and powerful like a tidal wave. _“It is a very complicated spell, however, and the ingredients might be hard to find, but… it’s indeed possible to track his Grace through his feathers.”_

“What do we need?” He looked through the things on the table, quickly finding himself a blank paper and a pen. He held the pen tightly in his hand, twisting it around in the air in expectation as anxiety quickly flooded his insides, “I don’t care how hard it is to find it, Hannah.”

Hannah then proceeded to recite the ingredients, pronunciation slow and careful, as if she feared that if she talked too fast the hunter might misspell something. Dean wrote everything down carefully, and he had to agree, some of them seemed pretty hard to find, but he was pretty sure they had most of them back in the Bunker, and they would do whatever they had to do to get the rest. He was pretty sure Gabriel might help, too. Hope began to blossom in his chest with every syllable he wrote down, growing strongly and flooding his insides, because they could actually do this. This would let them figure out where Cas’ Grace was.

A smile graced his lips at the thought.

_“You’ll need a map with the area where you think his Grace might be to guide you. You recite the spell as you coat a feather in the mixture, and then drop the feather onto the map so it can guide you. That should be enough.”_

Yeah, that sounded simple enough, but Dean still wrote those instructions down, not willing to let even the smallest, most simple detail slip his attention because there was just too much at stake here for that. Cas and the baby’s life were on the line here, so Dean had to make sure this went down perfectly.

“Okay, I got it. Anything else I should know?”

There was silence on the other line, but Dean still waited a short pause before pulling the phone away from his ear to make sure the call was still connected. It was, so he pressed it back against his ear and asked, “Hannah?”

He was pretty sure he heard a sigh on the other hand, and then a timid, hesitant voice asked, _“How is he?”_

The question came as a surprise, and it wasn’t even because of the words themselves. No, it was the tone of Hannah’s voice; the almost scared way she said them, like she feared what she might hear. The genuine concern Dean heard had him freezing for a moment, swallowing as he remembered everything Cas had told him about Hannah, and while a selfish, childish part of him wanted to tell her that she had no right to ask about Cas when she’d had a hand on kicking him out of Heaven, he knew he had no right to do that.

Hannah was Cas’ friend, regardless of all that. And she might just be the reason they would be able to save Cas’ life. They owed her this, at least.

“He’s… hanging on,” Dean finally let out, voice losing volume and turning into almost a whisper, “You know how he is. He’ll get through this.”

 _“He’s stubborn, for certain.”_   Dean chuckled, and he was surprised to hear that Hannah also attempted to do that. It didn’t come out right, too dry and short, but it was a fair try, Dean had to give her that.

Silenced took over the call then, and Dean decide to end it before it grew awkward, because while Hannah seemed to be making some progress as of late, she was still lacking a lot in the human social cues department. “Thank you, Hannah.”

_“Castiel is my friend, Dean. I know our current situation is strained and not exactly ideal, but I do not wish to see any harm come to him.”_

It was odd how much the words soothed Dean, but that was exactly what happened anyway. Again, it was good to know there was at least one angel up there in Heaven who still cared about Cas at all, especially now that his own family had literally kicked him out, forsaken him completely.

“I won’t either. You know that, right?” He didn’t mean for the words to come out with such a sharp edge to them, and only once they were out did he really realize the hidden meaning behind them, the almost challenging tone that coated his voice, but he didn’t regret them at all.

Another beat of silence passed, until Hannah replied, _“I am aware. And…”_ Another pause, another breath, _“I didn’t use to understand it; how Castiel could possibly choose… you and your brother over Heaven. I still don’t. But… I’m glad that he has you now. Someone to help him when no one else seems willing to.”_

Dean wasn’t sure what to say in response to that, so he let the silence linger.

_“Take care of him, Dean.”_

Nodding numbly, he replied, “I will.”

The words sounded final, the silence that followed heavy, and Dean took that as his cue to end the call.

And then he just sat there, Cas’ phone gripped tightly in his hand, body completely frozen, like he wasn’t sure how to process what had just happened. He looked back down at the paper before him, at his own messy handwriting, at all the ingredients for the feather spell, but not entirely managing to make it all sink in just yet.

“Is that…” Charlie’s voice was tentative, quiet, almost like she was afraid to break the silence at all, “Is that the feathers thing?”

Dean nodded numbly, not tearing his eyes from the list. “She found it,” he let out, and the words felt like a bucket of icy cold water being thrown over him, waking him up from some sort of trance.

That was the spell that would let them find Cas’ Grace; that would save Cas and their baby.

Hannah had _found it._

Sam leaned forward, tilting his head so he could read the list. “We have most of these back at the Bunker.”

Dean nodded again, but couldn’t find his voice to reply. His mind was reeling. They had the spell to find Cas’ Grace now, and tomorrow they would be getting the codex that would allow them to read the Book of the Damned so they could finally get the damn Mark off of his arm.

And then they would be fine. Cas would be fine, Dean would be fine, and most importantly, their baby would be safe.

He had no chance to stop the smile that spread on his lips then, or the almost choked chuckle that bubbled up his throat and tore out of his lips without his consent. His eyes were stinging, too, and he immediately moved his hand up to rub at them and try to stop any stray tears from making an appearance before either Sam or Charlie noticed it, but once he caught sight of their faces he knew it was already too late.

Damn hormones.

“I’m, huh—” His voice broke, because of course he was getting a little choked up, but he just cleared his throat and forced the words to come out somewhat steady, “I think I’ll go to bed now.” Before he actually started bawling here, he added to himself, because apparently that was a thing that might happen.

Sam and Charlie both smiled at him, and there was so much warmth in their eyes that Dean felt his face heating up with a blush, but he didn’t even wait for a response, just sprung up from the couch taking Cas’ phone and the spell instructions with him and all but bolted down the hallway.

He went straight to the master bedroom, but he had to pause outside the door for a few minutes, just standing in the middle of the hallway and hoping no one would follow him as finally he let a few tears fall. He could barely believe this, still hadn’t fully processed it, and he actually stared down at the paper tightly held in his hand for a while, even though he could barely read anything with all the tears in his eyes, the letters turning into nothing but shapeless blurs, before he finally decided he was being ridiculous. Still, the happiness, the strong relief that had blossomed in his chest was still potent, and he couldn’t quite find it in himself to stop smiling as he finally forced himself to move.

He grabbed the door handle and pushed it down, opening the door quietly and finding the room drowned in darkness, an angel-shaped pile of blankets on the mattress. Well, it seemed he would just have to wait to tell Cas tomorrow, as truly ecstatic as he was feeling about this right now. His steps were soundless and slow as he moved into their room, depositing his phone and Cas’ on the nightstand on his side, both now on vibrate mode, as well as the ingredients list. He kneeled down before his duffel to look for a clean change of clothes so he could shower before bed, moving as silently as he could so he wouldn’t disturb the angel’s much needed rest.

He managed to open the zipper without a sound, fortunately. He had successfully located a pair of clean underwear and was currently pawing around for a shirt when the form on the bed shifted, blankets falling a little as the body turned on the mattress, a head of wild black hair peeking out from under the covers, blue eyes blinking confusedly at in the dark.

“Dean?”

“Hey,” Dean whispered back, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Cas looked like he wanted to say something, and he even opened his mouth for it, but then finally his eyes seemed to adjust to the lack of light in the room and he was able to take in the state of Dean’s face—eyes probably still red and filled with tears, skin wet with them in fact, as the trails on his cheeks were probably very visible. The angel’s expression shifted within seconds, changing from something heavily coated with sleepy confusion to full-on worry in record time.

He sat up straighter on the bed, spine going rigid as he asked, “Dean, what’s wrong?”

The hunter shook his head at him, smiling, hoping it would be enough to soothe the angel as the hunter still couldn’t really talk right now. Dropping his boxers onto his duffel, he reached for the precious sheet of paper on the nightstand, handing it to the seraph without a word.

Cas took it, eyebrows still furrowed in question, but he said nothing as he let his eyes fall to the paper, features quickly taking on a look of surprise. Wide blue eyes looked back up at Dean, disbelief clear in them, and Dean smiled even more widely at the sight.

“Hannah called,” Dean offered simply.

A breath escaped Cas’ mouth, such a big, heavy sigh that made the angel’s body look smaller, shoulders sagging, eyes sparkling as he looked back down at the list, fingers tracing the letters written on it like the pen ink was actually made out of liquid gold. It was a good look on him, one that Dean surely wasn’t used to seeing, especially not recently. It made the warmth in his chest grow even stronger, and he felt a few more tears slipping down his cheeks, but he didn’t even bother to try and wipe them away, to try and hide them like he had done back in the living room. There was no need, not with Cas.

“This is… this is doable,” the angel finally let out, voice small but still filled with wonder, heavy with emotion, “It’s complicated, and most ingredients are rather rare, but…”

“We have a lot of them back in the Bunker.” Cas’ head snapped up, and if it was even possible, Dean was pretty sure his eyes started sparkling even more at those words. The hunter felt his smile growing even wider at the sight, voice shaking again as he whispered, “We can do this, Cas. We can…” Dean couldn’t even let the words out.

But Cas nodded nonetheless, eyes actually shining with unshed tears now, just like they had back at the Bunker’s garage when he’d first discovered the feathers. It was still an odd sight to see, witnessing the angel cry, and honestly Dean knew it would take a while for him to ever get used to it at all, but right now it was what felt right.

They could finally fix everything.

Dean leaned forward, placing a light, brief kiss to the angel’s lips, and Cas deepened it, letting their mouths move together for a few beats, sliding against each other’s smoothly, motions unrushed. Dean smiled into it, and when they pulled away he lifted his head to place a gentle kiss to Cas’ forehead, feeling the angel sigh against the skin of his neck.

“We’re actually gonna do this, Cas.”

He felt Cas nod, arms going up to wrap themselves around Dean’s torso, and the hunter leaned into the contact greedily.

Dean wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, just holding each other in silence, but it was a while, and eventually Dean excused himself saying that he was just going to take a quick shower and would come straight back to bed. Cas had unwillingly let him go then, but Dean was back within less than ten minutes, and when he walked back into the room he found Cas still staring down at the list like it held the answer to all the wonders of the world.

Honestly, to them, it kind of did.

Dean crawled into bed with Cas, and just then did the angel let go of the spell, placing it carefully on the nightstand, movements so slow it was like he was afraid to tear it somehow if he moved too fast, before lying back down onto the bed, snuggling up to Dean’s side and resting his head on the hunter’s chest. Dean let his hand move to the seraph’s hair then, running his fingers through the dark, short strands just like he loved doing.

The sound of their calm, steady breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the room for a while, and Dean eventually felt his eyelids drooping.

That was, until Cas’ voice startled him back to consciousness.

“I want to go with you tomorrow.”

Dean frowned, opening his eyes and glancing down at Cas in confusion, even though he couldn’t really see the angel’s face in their current position, just the hair on the top of his head.

“To the house,” the angel explained, “To get the codex.”

Oh, so _that_ was what had been bothering Cas back in the living room, then? But why didn’t he say something about it then?

“Cas, Sam and I can do it. There’s no need.” And then you can rest, because clearly you need it. He wanted to say it, but he didn’t, and yet he knew Cas was aware of exactly what he was thinking in that moment.

“Dean, I can help. You don’t need to do that alone.”

“I won’t be alone, Cas. Sam will be there,” Dean replied softly, hand gently moving through the angel’s hair again, “You worry too much, you know that?”

Cas tensed in his arms, and then the next thing Dean knew was that he was pulling away, turning his body so that he was almost sitting up again and facing Dean. The look in the angel’s eyes was serious, a lot more than the hunter had expected to see.

Cas really was worried about this, huh?

“That box killed an entire family decades ago. It killed members of the Men of Letters, men who had studied magic and the supernatural throughout their entire lives, and who were supposedly very skilled with magic. How can you tell me there’s no risk, Dean?”

It took Dean a beat to be able to respond to that, swallowing and wetting his lips as the hunter thought his next words through carefully, spinning them around in his head as he tried to think of the best way to convince Cas.

“You should stay here with Charlie, in case the Stynes show up or something. Someone has to guard the Book, and having just one person stay behind would leave them completely outnumbered if those psychos show up,” he tried, and of course he knew Cas knew that wasn’t the only reason why he was asking Cas to stay back. The odds of the Stynes finding them here were minimal, but the angel really needed to rest. He shouldn’t be wasting his Grace. “We’ll be fine, Cas.” He wasn’t talking about only him and Sam, and of course Cas knew that.

Cas didn’t look convinced at all. Instead of dropping the subject he tilted his head to the side, eyes very alert and questioning as apparently he looked for something on Dean’s face, though the hunter had no idea what that could be. Briefly, he wondered if the angel was probing at the bond as well.

“Why don’t you want me to go with you?”

If Cas had sounded annoyed or simply confused, Dean might have been able to insist, but his words were laced with hurt and the sound of it added to the so clearly sad look in those blue eyes was enough to send Dean’s conviction crumbling down.

He let out a breath, shaking his head, “Cas, it’s not like that.”

The angel lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at him, silently requesting an explanation.

“You’re exhausted, Cas. You still haven’t recovered from Rowena’s spell. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to just... jump straight into the action again.”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Dean scoffed a little, and he had to actually hold back an eye roll at that. Cas’ eyebrows frowned a little. “Do you honestly believe you are both physically and mentally apt for dealing with Sinclair's invention, Dean?”

Dean wanted to say yes. He even opened his mouth to do just that, the word hanging from his tongue, but he swallowed it just a moment later because he knew it wouldn’t be an honest answer. He was the opposite of mentally apt for anything at this point, and while he was healthy physically, he couldn’t exactly take risks, for the exact same reason why he wasn’t hunting anymore.

And he knew this might be a little dangerous. Sure, the Men of Letters weren’t used to actually dealing with something so close to hunters’ work as this whole box situation, but they were really freaking smart and Cas was right, they should have been able to figure out how to deal with the box with the knowledge they had of magic. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be a walk in the park.

But Dean couldn’t be the one to stay back with the Book. That whole thing earlier had been proof enough of that. He didn’t trust himself enough for that, and he was sure neither did the others, so he had to go tomorrow.

And maybe Cas might be able to deal with the box way more easily than Dean and Sam, with the angel’s endless knowledge of magic, spells and ancient dialects without any research needed whatsoever. Hell, bringing Cas along seemed almost logical.

But the angel was weak and that didn’t please Dean in the slightest, because while this whole thing was risky to Dean, it would also be risky to Cas. It would be risky to all of them, honestly.

But maybe with three, then the risk wouldn’t be so big.

At some point Dean found his hand moving, sliding down to his stomach to rest on the place where his bump had already begun to form, even if it still was barely , as his pants were already a little tighter now. Cas’ words about miscarrying from months ago rang loudly inside his head, and just as he had been convinced back then that entering the barn in Ohio with Cas by his side would be the wisest decision in case something were to go wrong, he had to admit the same applied to this. He would be risking the baby’s life if Cas didn’t go.

A heavy, defeated sigh escaped his lips. “Fine,” he agreed, “You, me and Sam go and Charlie stays back to protect the Book.”

Cas seemed pleased to hear that, nodding lightly in response before leaning in to kiss Dean lightly on the lips, almost reassuringly, as if silently trying to convince the hunter that he was fine enough for this. Dean let himself melt into the kiss, but it remained completely tame until the angel pulled away moments later, letting out a breath he let himself lie back down against Dean, pulling the hunter even closer, covering the human in warmth yet again. Dean felt the seraph kissing his jaw, nipping lightly at the skin and he just sighed, burying himself closer to Cas’ body, letting the heat engulf him. He felt lethargic, his muscles tired, although his mind was still oddly alert.

The Mark was still burning in his arm, and while the happiness from Hannah’s call seemed to have taken his mind off of that momentarily, had somehow dulled the vicious words coming from it, it was back now that his mind had wandered toward some darker territories and the hunter wasn’t sure if he could ignore it completely enough to fall asleep.

For a moment he actually considere asking Cas if the seraph could feel the Mark like he could, if it was as loud for the angel as it was for Dean, but he decided against it. He was too tired for that conversation right now, even if he doubted he would actually rest tonight, and really, he didn’t need to worry Cas even more with that particular matter. It just wasn’t worth it at all.

Even with the Mark's grumbling echoing inside his head, he still closed his eyes, listening to Cas’ slow, steady breathing and willing himself to fall asleep even if he was pretty sure it would take him a while.

He didn’t quite manage it.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean didn’t sleep well at all that night, tossing and turning every few minutes, while Cas seemed completely unmoving by his side, but that wasn’t exactly surprising. He had assumed the angel would just pass out.

The Mark burned constantly in his arm, reminding him about the Book, about how close it was, because it had to be in this house somewhere. It kept telling him to go look for it, to take a peek at it, just a quick glance, and its insistence actually made Dean nervous, because that Book couldn’t be anything good if the Mark seemed so focused on it. A sinking feeling had found its way into Dean’s stomach, and it made him uneasy just to think about using the Book at all, because dark magic always came with consequences and he was starting to wonder what the consequences of curing him from the Mark would turn out to be.

And of course, that train of thought only made it even more impossible for him to fall asleep.

Cas actually woke up four times throughout the night because of him, ‘sensing his discomfort’ as he’d put it, but when the angel had asked him why he couldn’t sleep, Dean had simply blamed it on the lumpy, uncomfortable mattress, even though he knew Cas knew that wasn’t the actual reason. The seraph could hear the Mark too, or at least part of it, but he wasn’t pushing Dean to talk about it, which the hunter was very much glad for. Instead of questioning him, of bringing up the whole thing back in the living room, Cas had just pulled Dean to his chest and kissed his forehead, and Dean was pretty sure the warmness that had flooded Dean through the bond then had been deliberate, that Cas had done it on purpose. He was thankful for it, because it actually helped clearing his head quite a bit. He was pretty sure that was the only reason he had even fallen asleep at all.

And when he did fall asleep, his rest wasn’t dreamless. No, he dreamed of opening that box and taking the Book with him, of running away with it so Sam, Cas and Charlie or even the Stynes wouldn’t find him, so he could use it without them getting in the way, without anyone ever stopping him from using it, without anyone ever taking it from him.

Because it was his right to use it, the Mark told him. It whispered in his ear about all the terrible, unforgivable things he would be able to do with the Book, all the power he would have; of everything they could give to him if he would just _let them._

Morning came too fast and too slowly at the same time, and Dean groaned as he forced himself to get up from the bed, feeling his body complain at the lack of rest he’d gotten throughout the night, but he had no choice but to get up because really needed to pee. He looked over at Cas, where the angel still slept peacefully on the bed, and he made sure to move extra quietly not to wake him up. Cas needed to sleep, and Dean would let him get as much of it as he needed. At least one of them should get some good rest.

He relieved himself in the bathroom down the hall instead of in the one adjacent to the bedroom so he woudn't make so much noise and disturb Cas, and then decided he might as well make himself useful since he was already up and about so freaking early. It wasn’t like he would be able to fall asleep if he went back to bed, so there was just no point on even trying. The sun was already up, anyway.

He made a quick stop in his and Cas’ room to toss a vitamin pill into his mouth and leaving it on his tongue, before he headed for the kitchen, downing it with a glass of water as soon as he got there.

Dean decided to make everyone coffee and breakfast, since he was the first one up in the entire house. Fortunately he’d imagined Sam and Charlie had been living off of takeout food, so when they’d driven through town the day before he’d bought a few things. He cooked up some pancakes, and then fried some eggs and bacon, which he was glad to notice did not send him running straight for the bathroom. It was the third day in a roll since the last time he’d thrown up, and he was pretty sure that meant it was the end of his morning sickness. It was about time, too; Dean couldn’t take much more of it.

Cooking calmed him a little, made him feel a little better, as was normal to happen, and he just let himself get lost in the familiar movements as he hummed lowly to himself. The sound of the bacon frying, the weight of the pan in his hand, the taste of his daily mug of coffee still lingering on his tongue—it all put him in a better mood, and for once he let himself enjoy it.

He was actually almost done with the food when at last his thoughts drifted back toward the reason why he was feeling so tired, and instantly the Mark flared up in his arm. His arm shook where he was holding the frying pan, but he did his best to ignore it as he moved the two eggs to a plate. He swallowed, feeling his throat dry, the same painful itch from yesterday on the skin of his arm where the Mark was making itself known as he reached for box of orange juice, since he’d already drunk a whole mug of coffee by then and couldn’t have any more. His hand was shaking so much he almost spilled it.

He swallowed, eyeing the set table for a moment, trying to will himself to sit down and eat, and it was startling just how much effort that took. He wasn’t even that hungry anymore, but he still forced the food down his throat, telling himself over and over again that his baby needed it and that he had already taken the vitamins so he should follow it with food soon. That was really the only reason why he managed to keep it down, and he knew that the nausea that was quickly starting to make itself known in his gut wasn’t exactly the morning sickness suddenly deciding to make an appearance after days of being completely absent.

He left the table as it was once he was done so everyone could eat later, simply covering the food and leaving his dirty dishes on the sink to be dealt with later before walking into the living room. He paused a few steps before reaching the couch, eyeing the research they had all left there almost wearily, because it just didn’t seem like the right thing to do right now. He wanted to do something else. He wanted to walk around the house a little, he decided, just wandering, exploring, and if he happened to come across the—

No. He couldn’t do that. He shouldn’t go anywhere near that thing. He shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

So he sat down on the couch, opening a book and forcing his body to calm down, to stay still as he tried to occupy his mind until someone else woke up, but he couldn’t turn his mind off, couldn’t quite stop thinking about the Book.

Because it was just _there, in that house_. It was only a few feet away, probably. All he had to do was go look for it. He was sure he could find it.

Cursing, Dean shook his head, telling himself to snap out of it, but the deafening silence that surrounded him really wasn’t helping. Suddenly getting up before everyone else seemed like a very bad idea, because he wasn’t sure he should be alone right now, but he couldn’t go back to bed now, and really, he didn’t want to wake up anyone to babysit him, of course not.

No, he could hold his own, damn it. He wasn’t going to let the damn Mark win. It wanted the Book? Well, too bad, it wasn’t getting it, no matter how much it whined. Dean wasn’t going to break easily. He just needed to get his mind off of it, get himself distracted and he would be fine.

He lasted half an hour.

The Mark was loud, yelling almost, so reading wasn’t working at all. It also burned a lot more than before, pain like claws dragging over his skin, tearing his muscles and scratching at his very bones, so much he actually had to grit his teeth because of it in order not to let out an actual sound, maybe even a scream if this went on for too long.

Maybe… maybe if he just knew where the Book was, then the Mark might leave him alone. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt this fucking much, too. Maybe just looking for it wouldn’t really do any harm. It wasn’t like he was actually going to use it, so really, it wasn’t a big deal.

Yeah.

So that was what Dean did for almost a whole hour. Except for in the occupied bedrooms, Dean looked everywhere—in the living room, in the basement, in the kitchen, in the bathrooms. He opened every cabinet, every drawer, every closet, looked under every freaking piece of furniture and behind every painting, but he couldn’t freaking find the damn thing anywhere.

With a huff, Dean wandered back to the living room, this time actually scratching at the Mark as he tried to think of something to make it quiet, because he just _couldn’t_ take this any longer. He was actually sweating a little, his heart beating a little faster and his balance a little off as a very strong headache was beginning to blossom inside his skull. He didn’t want anyone else to know about this. He had to think fast to cover this up if he couldn't find the Book, before someone else emerged from that hallway and caught him having a freaking break down because of the damn Mark. He had to—

_Wait a minute._

Dean looked down, testing his footing for a moment, noticing the floorboards felt a little odd under his foot a few steps away from the fire place. He kneeled down, knocking on the wood and pushing it a little before he attempted to actually lift them, only to find out that yep, they were loose.

Heart beating even faster inside his chest in anticipation, Dean lifted the loose board, and then the two beside it, until finally he was staring at what lay under it; what had been completely hidden from sight until then.

Jackpot.

He recognized the box, as it had been in the Men of Letters’ storage since they’d first moved into the Bunker. He knew it was made of lead and that the symbols that covered every single inch of its black surface was meant to ward it, both to hide it and contain the dark power within.

He just couldn’t believe it had been this close to him until now. When had Sam and Charlie hidden it here? Had it been here all along yesterday while they had been working on research, or had they put it here after he’d gone to sleep?

The Mark burned even more strongly now, telling Dean that no, just finding the thing wouldn’t help him, that it wasn’t going to go quiet, and suddenly all he could think about was just how easy it would be to reach out, and then it would be in his hands. Maybe then the Mark would stop hurting and leave him the fuck alone for a while.

He didn’t even need to take it out of the box. Maybe just a glance would suffice, and while it was still in the box, the Stynes couldn’t find it. And even if they could, it would only take a second. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice it. They couldn’t be tracking it 24/7, right? Yeah, a few seconds would be safe.

No, he couldn’t do it. He shouldn’t. He had to…

Well, maybe just picking it up wouldn’t do anything. Maybe it would finally make the damn Mark shut up for once.

He reached out and picked it up.

He paused with his hands on the lid, though, because he knew he shouldn’t do this, and he was painfully aware of that fact. There were alarms going off inside his head, ringing loudly in his ears, telling him to stop and pretend this never happened, to just put the box back and hide it before anyone caught him here.

But Cas was sleeping, he could feel it, how the bond was almost dormant in the angel’s slumber. And judging by the lack of sound in the rest of the house, he assumed Sam and Charlie weren’t awake just yet either, or else the smell of food would have already drawn them out by now.

He was safe, and no one would have to know about this. Just a peek, a quick look that would ease the Mark, and then he would put it back. Just one look, that was all.

The Mark burned, insistent.

Dean couldn’t ignore it this time. The alarms were still loud, but the Mark was louder.

Slowly, he opened the box.

Dean could hear the Book; that was the first thing he realized. It was speaking, grumbling, and the Mark began to chant in response as soon as he heard it. It was almost as if they were talking, communicating, and Dean could do nothing to stop them, couldn’t even move. All he could do was stare at the cover of the Book, at what appeared to be leather but he knew wasn’t the case, and for some reason that thought didn’t make him shudder right then. He could feel the power emanating for it, such a dark, powerful energy it was almost scary, but as he lifted his hand to close to box, it moved toward the Book instead as he ran hand over the cover, feeling almost hyptonized by it.

The Mark grew louder. The Book grew louder.

Dean closed his eyes, feeling his hand trembling, his breathing almost heavy by now, shaking as it left it mouth. He felt a thrill running through his veins, excitement and fear rolling together into his bloodstream, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it all; what he should do about it.

He wanted to grab it. He wanted to get the Book and run away. No one would have to know, no one would see it, and when they realized he was gone, he would be too far away to catch up with him. They wouldn’t find him, and it would all be fine. He could finally—

The box was suddenly being ripped from his hands without a warning, and his first instinct was to follow it, to try to grip the box even if the polished material slipped against his skin as he tried to hold it in place. A hiss escaped his lips and he moved forward, because how dare someone try and take that box from him. It was _his._ He was—

The lid fell shut with a loud noise, and Dean jumped in surprise, body freezing as the room around him spun around for a moment. Suddenly the silence was too heavy without the Book’s voice to fill it, the loud bang of the box being closed echoing through the air for only a second, and with it came such an empty feeling that had Dean’s head spinning, disoriented as the rush, the voices, everything was abruptly cut off. He looked around, startled and confused as he tried to understand what had just happened.

Before him, Cas was kneeling, box tightly gripped in his hands, his eyes wide and almost fearful.

Well, fuck.

Like a veil being lifted, Dean suddenly came back to himself. With the Book trapped inside the box, the Mark backed off, and suddenly Dean’s mind was clear again, free from all the voices that had a moment before been muddling his thoughts, pulling them into an incoherent haze in which all he could do was obey them. The pain, the disorientation, the dizziness—it was all gone without a warning, and suddenly he realized how weak he had been.

The look in Cas’ eyes made Dean chest feel heavy, and fuck, he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die right then.

“Cas, I…” He licked his lips, shaking his head. He was ashamed of his own lack of self-control, and he looked down, closing his eyes as he cursed. Damn it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… Fuck, I don’t know what took over me. I mean, I do, I just…”

A hand rested on Dean’s cheek, and he looked up, only to find Cas had placed the box on the coffee table to the side. Dean’s hand twitched to reach out for it, to grab the box again and secure it in his arm this time so no one could take it from him. He was fast; maybe he could make a run for the door. Maybe if he—

“Focus on me,” the angel whispered, and yet his voice was sharp. Dean blinked, snapping out of his thoughts and once more wondering how the hell he was losing his grip on his mind so quickly. And when had the Mark started to burn again? His heart was racing again and his hands were shaking badly, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop any of it. He had no idea how to do it at this point, or if it was even possible. He guessed not, not with the Book _right fucking there._ “Breathe, Dean. Copy me.”

Dean’s neck felt stiff as he nodded, teeth gritted tightly together as he closed his eyes and did as the angel asked, breathing in and out as slowly as he could, focusing on the soul bond instead of the Mark’s burn or the painful beating of his heart against his ribcage, actually trying to mirror the angel’s calm, steady breathing. Cas leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the hunter’s, and Dean felt the tip of the angel’s fingers caressing the skin of his face. The buzzing of the bond was warm, and while it wasn’t strong enough to send everything away completely, at least it seemed to make the Mark quiet down a little again.

“I don’t like this, Cas,” Dean whispered, voice breaking and wavering as he still tried to keep his breathing at least somewhat steady, “This feels… this feels bad. The Book is calling to the Mark, and I can’t—” His voice broke completely then, throat closing up, and he shook his head a little, swallowing with a loud click before he attempted to talk again, “I don’t know if we should... If this is actually…” The words hurt to be said, so much he couldn’t even let them out fully, but he knew he had to bring this up. This might be the only lead they had to get the Mark off of him, but at the same time, the cost of that seemed to be getting higher and higher. Was it really worth it? Was this all…?

Cas didn’t respond right away, instead moving his hand from the hunter’s face down to hold Dean’s own, squeezing it almost reassuringly. “I know,” he whispered back, “I… I can feel it too. The magic from the Book is dark, strong, powerful… almost ancient, much older than the Book itself. And it makes me uneasy to use it without knowing the consequences.” He let out a breath, heavy, tired. He suddenly looked even more exhausted than before, and it made Dean’s heart clench. “However,” He moved his hand from Dean’s, lifting it until it rested over the hunter’s stomach, palm spread right over where the beginning of his bump was, “What other choice do we have?”

A shaky breath escaped him, and Dean swallowed drily, nodding because of course Cas was right. The baby hadn't even been born yet, was still being formed, and already he knew he would do anything for it, no matter the consequences. If this would save their child, then it would be worth it. That was all that truly mattered.

He couldn’t bring himself to respond, because really, what could he say to that? So instead what came out of his mouth was a weak, “Has it been calling to you too?”

Cas nodded. “Although I assume it has been a lot louder for you. What I hear is merely an echo of what you hear, Dean.” He looked over at the box, a heavy look in his eyes, “I’ll ask Sam or Charlie to hide it somewhere else, so we both don’t know where it is.”

Dean nodded numbly. He followed the angel’s gaze, but he only let his eyes linger on the box for a moment before tearing them away once the Mark started to grumble again. He took a few breaths, concentrating on the bond again to ground himself.

“Was it…” He swallowed, hating how off and unstable his voice sounded, “Did you ask them to hide the Book from us?”

Cas didn’t even hesitate to nod. “I called Sam three days ago. Both he and Charlie agreed it would be for the best.”

Dean swallowed again, forcing himself not to glance toward the box again. “Yeah,” he let out in midst of a breath. It had been the right call, really; he just wished he hadn’t been able to find it. He was going to comment on that, but before he could say anything else another thought struck him right there, and his eyes widened.

Oh no. He had screwed up. He had screwed up _bad._

“I opened it, though,” he said, fear curling into his insides, mingling with the anger he suddenly felt at his own stupid, weak self for letting this happen at all, “Do you think the Stynes noticed?”

Cas actually paused to think about that, and that only made Dean feel even worse.

“Perhaps,” the angel conceded, “Although you did not actually take the Book out of the box. And if Sam and Charlie really did lose them, I find it unlikely they could find us so fast, even if whatever method they had been using to track the Book in fact has already begun to lead them here. We shouldn’t take the risk and stay, however. They won’t catch up with us so fast, but maybe we should leave today, once we have the codex.”

Yeah, that sounded fair enough, Dean supposed, but he still felt angry at himself because of it, and he certainly wasn’t soothed. If the Stynes found them, it would be entirely his fault. But he assumed there wasn’t much they could do right now apart from being ready to leave this place as fast as possible once they got the codex.

After that, they put the floorboards back in place, but left the box on the coffee table, and then moved over to the kitchen, where Dean gently prodded Cas to eat something. The angel reheated a few pancakes while Dean fried up some more eggs and bacon for him, and then he just sat there beside Cas as the seraph ate, chair pushed so close to Cas’ that their sides were pretty much pressed up against each other’s, and Dean let the heat from the angel’s body ground him, let it quiet down some of the anxiety that was still burning strong inside of him.

Charlie emerged from her room first, and she seemed very surprised to see the box out of its hiding place. Her eyes held a silent question to both of them, which Cas answered with a simple request that she and Sam hide the Book somewhere else, no explanation given whatsoever. She simply nodded in response as she picked up the box from the coffee table, and while she didn’t ask for more information or make any comment, Dean knew she must have figured out what had happened on her own pretty easily. It was pretty obvious.

She vanished with the box for fifteen minutes, and it actually pained Dean to watch her go. His entire body had tensed, the urge to spring up from his seat and follow her, to take the Book from her hands, so strong that he almost did it, until Cas’ hand came to rest on top of his and the angel managed to snap him out of the trance again. When Charlie came back, the silence that loomed in the room was heavy, loaded, and Dean hated it, but he was glad Cas didn’t let go of his hand.

When Sam emerged from his room, he faltered, and clearly he could sense there was something wrong. His eyes flittered over each one of their faces, down to the food, to Dean and Cas’ joined hands, and then back to Dean's face, but as curious and intrigued as he looked, as instense and the frown that had quickly formed in his brows was, he didn’t ask about it. He simply greeted them all and then sat down at the table quietly, eating his breakfast in silence as the others had been doing already.

The doubt of not knowing where the Book was anymore was a constant thing throughout breakfast, but with everyone there and the very present weight of Cas’ hand on his, plus the soft thrumming of the soul bond, Dean fortunately managed to ignore it all fairly well. Maybe distraction was really a good idea.

At some point Cas suggested they left town later today once they had the codex, and Dean knew exactly why. He couldn’t even bring himself to talk as the angel suggested it, because he was still ashamed of what had happened earlier today, of how the abrupt move that would not give them any time to rest after they went to the house and got the codex would be completely his fault, but he did watch the other’s reactions closely. Charlie didn’t seem surprised, and she sneaked a brief glance over at Dean before nodding. Sam looked a little confused, frowning again, a clear question in his eyes, but it didn’t take him long to nod as well, understanding flooding his features quickly enough because of course Sam would guess what had happened so easily. They had been expecting Dean to snap since they’d first decided to meet up apparently, so really, it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise at all.

That didn't make Dean feel any better.

Once they were all done with breakfast, it was time for Dean, Sam and Cas to get ready to leave, so Sam took a shower first while the others did the dishes and started taking care of what little needed to be packed, since even though there were two bathrooms, the house’s old plumbing and gas heating system didn’t seem able to handle two showers going at once. Dean took a shower next, alone, because if Cas was in there with him they might not leave before lunch.

And while Cas showered in their bathroom Dean started to get dressed in their room, putting on a clean pair of underwear and fetching himself a pair of jeans, but that was all he managed to do. Only a few seconds later he found himself standing before the mirror on the wall by the dresser, completely frozen, shirtless and with his pants unbuttoned, just staring at the image before him with wide, frozen eyes, hand resting on his stomach, pressing his palm against it as if trying to map it out.

Because he actually had a bigger bump now, and it seemed to have grown a lot overnight. It was still small, really, and barely even there, but if you knew what you were looking for, it was hard to miss it. Just a tiny little portion of his stomach was a little bloated, bigger.

He was really starting to show now.

For now, it wasn’t too much. Two days ago he had noticed his pants had felt a little tighter, but while his stomach had been harder there hadn’t been an actual swelling. But now his pants just wouldn’t close and fuck, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just put on some sweats; Sam and Charlie would get suspicious. True, he could wear sweats and hoodies to hide his belly, but only inside, and he still had no idea what to do when he got bigger. It wasn’t like there was pregnancy clothing for men.

He didn’t even know what the hell he was going to do today.

That was actually how Cas found him—eyeing his stomach for what felt like the hundredth time in the last five minutes, looking like he was almost afraid of it somehow.

The angel paused a few steps away from him, completely naked and with his hair still a little wet, and Dean didn’t look up at him for more than a second.

“I’m showing,” His voice was low and almost weak, like he was unsure of what to do, almost afraid to speak, “I mean, barely, but…”

Cas was silent for a moment, walking over to Dean until he reached him, his arms wounding around the hunter’s waist, pressing his naked chest flush against Dean’s bare back, and the human leaned into the heat instinctively, enjoying the skin to skin contact for a beat. “It will be faster now. Soon it will be… harder to miss.”

Dean nodded, letting out a breath as he looked back down at his open fly. “My pants won’t close already, though.”

Leaning away from him, a frown settled in the angel’s browns as he stared down at the unbuttoned front of the hunter’s jeans for a long moment.

“Do you have anything with an elastic band? Preferably that you won’t miss.”

Confused, Dean frowned at the angel, but when he got no explanation he settled for just doing as he was being told and kneeling before his duffel, rummaging through its contents for just a moment before he found one of the old sweats he had; the one he had torn in the knee. He had bought a new pair recently, when they had gone shopping for clothes for Cas, so really he wouldn’t miss this one. He had been meaning to throw it away, but he'd forgotten about it completely. He hadn’t even washed it after he'd worn it last, he realized, wrinkling his nose as he silently passed it over to Cas.

The angel took it into his hands and eyed the fabric, examining it and pulling at the elastic waistband for just a moment before he looked back up at Dean, stepping over to the hunter and placing a hand on his waist.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

Dean simply nodded.

The frown did not vanish from Cas’ features, instead only growing heavier as the angel’s concentration seemed to grow as the seconds passed. The hand still gripping the fabric of the sweatpants began to shine with power from his Grace, light pouring from his skin, and then so did the one on Dean’s waist. Cas’ eyes slipped closed at some point as he did whatever he was doing, and all the hunter could do was wait and watch, even though he had no idea what was happening.

It lasted for a minute, but Dean forced himself to stand still as he watched the warm light, and three times he thought about voicing his doubts, of raising the question of whether or not Cas really should be doing whatever he was doing, if he really should be using his Grace right now, but the angel had started doing this too quickly for him to say it before and now it was too late, so the hunter swallowed the words, remaining quiet until finally the light was gone.

Cas’ breathing was a little heavier when it was over, and Dean hated that.

“What did you do?” he asked, eyeing his pants, lifting a hand to pull at the waist of it, and he was surprised to realize it stretched a lot more than normal jeans, like it had an elastic band inside, very much like the sweatpants, even though they still looked just like plain normal jeans.

“Molecular rearrangement, basically.” Dean raised his eyebrows at the angel, asking for more of an explanation than just that. “I essentially blended the material of the jeans and the elastic, and those two added together created some sort of material that acts very closely to an elastic band inside your jeans, so it can give you more freedom to move and your pants will not feel too tight.”

Well, that was really freaking awesome. He pulled at the pants, and sure enough, the button closed easily, fabric stretching around his waist, hugging it perfectly, and yet it was still comfortable. He took the sweatpants from Cas' hand, testing out the waisband, finding it had a lot less give then before, like Cas had removed the elastic, or at least some of it. Apparently that had been exactly what had happened.

“So what, you can make me maternity clothes, then?”

Cas chuckled lowly, a small smile lingering in his lips as he said, “I suppose so, yes. I can adjust your clothing as you need it.”

Well, that solved a lot of problems. Dean smiled back at him, “Awesome.”

Cas smiled in response, placing a light kiss to the hunter’s bare shoulder.

They both finished getting dressed after the pants situation was dealt with, and fortunately his undershirt and flannel fit without a problem, but Dean had a feeling that would change soon. Still, as silence took over the room Dean couldn’t help but notice that Cas looked a little tense, like there was something bothering him. The human wondered what that could be about, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the human going to get the codex as well, because the angel had made it clear he didn’t want Dean anywhere near the Werther Box, even if he hadn’t yet tried to convince the hunter not to go with them. The alternative was Dean staying back here with the Book and that might be even worse, so really, there was nothing else they could do.

So Dean dropped that train of thought, and eventually he caught his mind drifting toward the topic he knew should be in his mind more often now, but for some reason it just seemed to be escaping him completely since they’d gotten here.

“I’ll tell Sam and Charlie tonight, I think,” he announced once they were almost ready to go, “Once we get to wherever we’ll go later.” The single thought of it sent a wave of nervousness through him, his stomach feeling almost bottomless. But he had to do this, and soon. He'd already put it off long enough.

Cas still looked all tense and bothered, but he seemed to sense the human’s discomfort, so he stepped toward Dean and enveloped him in his arms from behind, pressing a few gentle kisses to the side of Dean’s throat, and while he didn’t say anything, it already made Dean feel better. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the feeling of Cas’ lips dragging over his skin, at the hold the angel had on his hips, the heat of his body pressed close.

He turned eventually, ducking his head to kiss Cas on the lips, silently wishing he could just convey to Cas that there was no reason for him to worry.

 _We’ll be fine,_ he told the angel.

Cas didn’t respond.

***~*~*~*~***

The plan had been easy.

At first Sam had been the one to try to get in by himself, but that had gotten him a gun pointed at his crotch, so they had resorted to plan B, which involved Dean distracting, pretending to be a friendly neighbor from neighborhood watch or whatever and Sam and Cas going inside quietly and finding the damn thing. And that part had worked, at least.

It had all gone downhill after that, though.

As it turned out, the box actually put you in a trance and made you kill yourself. Dean had managed to break out of the trance created by the box, but only barely. He had been tossed into freaking Purgatory of all places, with Benny telling him to kill himself, that it was the right thing to do, that he belonged there anyway, but what really had struck a chord with him hadn’t been about himself.

 _“You both belong here, Dean, you know that. That hybrid you’re carrying,”_ The vampire shook his head, an almost sad look in in his eyes, and he looked almost disappointed. It really bothered Dean to see it, _“Nephilims were forbidden for a reason, Dean. What it’s going to become, I can tell you, it ain’t gonna be pretty, brother. And deep down you know all of that. Do the world a favor and end this, before it’s too late. You remember what happened with Emma, don’t you?”_

And of course it wasn’t the real Benny. He’d never told Benny about Emma, and of course there was no way in hell Benny would know about the nephilim; clearly it was an illusion, he'd known that, but still it had been hard to break out of it. The weight in illusion-Benny’s words settled onto his shoulders like a rock, because it hit too close to home, fit too well with the fears that had for a long time been plaguing his thoughts about the baby, and the fact that a part of him actually believed he might belong in a place like Purgatory was not helping him escape the box’s grasp.

He’d managed in the end, though, although he hadn't understood exactly how until it was over. He’d come back to himself to find Cas right before him, wide eyes frantic, hands gripping Dean’s arms so tightly it almost hurt. Cas had been the one to break him out of the trance, Dean had quickly assumed. Relief had washed over the angel’s face as Dean had blinked at him, and in a second Cas had pulled him into his arms, breathing into his neck and holding him tightly, as if afraid to let go, and Dean had just melted into the embrace, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth when he noticed the broken bottle to the side.

That had been way too close of a call.

But as much as Dean wanted to stay like that, to take comfort in Cas’ warmth for just a little longer as his mind actually registered he was back in the real world, or as curious as he was to know what the angel himself had gone through and how he had broken out of his own trance, he knew they couldn’t stay there too long. Sam might still be stuck in his own head, and they had to get to him before it was too late.

They soon discovered that the house owner, Suzie, had not been able to break out of the illusion soon enough, and that she had taken her own life in the office.

Sam hadn’t been able to snap out of the illusion by himself either, but they had gotten to him in time, figuring out what needed to be done to open the box. Dean had quickly made a cut on his arm and given the thing enough Men of Letters blood to open it before Sam bled out, and once that was done his brother was finally able to break out of the trance.

The codex looked like a weird little notebook, a bunch of worn, old papers just tied together with a badly kept brown leather cover, and it was full of symbols he couldn’t recognize. Dean had no idea how that thing would help them read the Book, but they had it now, and that was enough for today.

They left the house quickly after that, Sam supporting his weight on Dean as they walked, his body weak because of the blood loss, the codex gripped tightly in his gigantic hands, like he feared it might vanished if he let it go. Cas’ arm wound up around Dean’s waist, silently offering him support if the human needed it, and like that the three made their way back to the car.

They got back to the house with lunch, having bought food in town, and by the time they got to the house, Sam was looking a lot better, even after having lost so much blood. Also, Dean was starving, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one. Sam and Cas looked truly exhausted, but their eyes were all but sparkling as they glanced at all the food containers.

Cas was very much bothered with all the cuts and blood on Dean's skin, especially the huge one on the hunter’s arm, and as soon as they walked through the front door he started to assess the damage. He wanted to heal it all, but Dean said he wouldn’t let him do it until he ate and rested at least a little, so Dean just cleaned the cut and wrapped his arm up with some gauze for the time being.

The food he and Sam bought was gone very quickly, vanishing from their plates in record time, but still they found the time to retell the whole thing to Charlie in between bites, and she had been the one to ask the question that Dean was sure had been looming over everyone’s head by now.

“What did you guys see, though?”

Dean swallowed, intentionally taking another bite into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to speak first. Cas wasn’t chewing, but he didn’t speak either, letting the silence linger.

“I actually saw you, Charlie,” Sam said, and everyone’s eyes turned to him, eyebrows rising a little in question. “You appeared, saying you had found something in the files Dean and Cas brought from the Bunker, about the box. That you had figured out how to deactivate it. You were the one who told me about the Men of Letters blood.”

It made sense, really, and it was a really low blow too, to go for someone Sam would trust so much to get him to make himself bleed out, but then again that would be the easiest way to make someone kill themselves—have someone they trust and cared about say that was what they should do, what they deserved.

It had almost worked for Dean.

“I saw Gabriel.” Dean turned his head and saw Cas was looking down at his food. The angel swallowed once, even though there didn’t seem to be any food in his mouth. “I realized it was not truly him at some point, and that allowed me to break free.”

It was clear everyone wanted to hear more in the pause that followed, what Gabriel had said and how Cas had realized he was in fact being fooled, but the angel was clearly not willing to elaborate, as he lifted another forkful of food to his mouth and began to chew, wordlessly declaring that he was done talking.

Dean had a feeling he knew why Cas felt he couldn’t tell more, as that was most likely the same reason why he couldn’t say what exactly Benny had said to him in his own illusion, so he just made a mental note to ask the angel about it later, taking it upon himself to fill the silence that followed before Sam and Charlie asked any questions.

“I saw Benny,” Dean said.

“Your vampire friend from Purgatory?” Charlie asked.

Dean nodded. “I was actually _in_ Purgatory in the illusion, too, but… Cas broke me out of it.” He also didn’t share any more details, and fortunately Sam and Charlie didn’t insist.

They were up and preparing to travel as soon as they were done with lunch, as much as everyone wanted to just be lazy and rest after eating, they couldn’t, since they had to leave St. Louis now, before the Stynes found them.

Because of Dean, of course. He had been the one to fuck it all up.

Charlie had already loaded some bags into the Lincoln, so Dean and Sam loaded the rest into the Impala. Briefly Dean wondered where the Book was, but he quickly came to the conclusion that he’d better not know. Although he did have a feeling Charlie must have packed it in the Lincoln.

Just an hour after lunch they were off, riding in pairs as they had before, but Charlie drove the Lincoln instead of Sam as the man looked about to just topple over at any second so he really shouldn't be behind a car wheel, having to yet fully recover from the blood loss. Dean was pretty sure he was going to pass out only a few minutes into the drive.

Cas napped through the first two hours, face pressed up against the passenger side window, so Dean just drove in silence, not wanting to disturb the angel’s sleep by turning on any music. He could really hear the engine that way, so he wasn’t complaining, instead letting himself just enjoy the drive for a while.

Eventually, though, Cas woke up and from then on he seemed very determined to stay awake for the rest of the trip, but he didn’t seem to be in a very talkative mood so Dean turned on the radio then. The silence wasn’t awkward or tense, but the hunter just wanted to feel the air with something.

Dean also didn’t miss how the angel kept sending subtle glances down at the hunter's arm every few minutes, the one that still had the cut in it, even though the wound and gauze were hidden by his clothes at the moment, but he said nothing about it. He knew Cas wanted to heal it, but that could wait a little while. The cut wasn’t even that deep.

“What did the box have Benny say to you?”

Dean’s head snapped to the side, surprised to hear the angel’s voice so abruptly, and his hand shot out to lower the volume of AC/DC’s _Back in Black_ until you could barely hear the song playing in the background at all.

He threw another glance over at Cas as he considered his next words, only to find the angel watching him with attentive eyes.

Slowly, Dean shook his head, moving his eyes back to the road and letting out a breath as he realized that there was just no point in lying to Cas about this. And the angel was the only one he could talk to about this stuff, too. “That I should just stay in Purgatory, that I belonged there. And that…” He swallowed, letting out another breath, but this one came out a little shakier. “That the baby did too.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and the few glances Dean sneaked at Cas told him the angel was now staring at the road ahead, sitting completely still.

He wasn’t sure how to read that reaction, but it didn’t make him feel any better at all. He actually felt anxious all of a sudden, because while he had been thinking about this a lot, he hadn’t actually voiced any of his fears concerning their baby being a nephilim until now, so he had no idea what he would hear from Cas right now.

“Cas, are nephilims… ?” He couldn’t even find the right words, and it hurt just thinking about it.

“Nephilims are not monsters, Dean,” Cas’ voice was firm, and the conviction in it soothed Dean a little, “They were forbidden for what they meant. It’s seen as an act of rebellion for an angel to create one, and unlike our case, normally it also costs the human their life. And then you would have something powerful and part angel that’s human enough not to answer to the Host, which Heaven could never approve of, as disobedience is seen as the worst offence there can be by Heaven. But the nephilims themselves had no fault in anything. They were simply created and born, and but they never did anything because they were naturally monsters. They were raised to oppose Heaven by rogue angels, not by their own nature.”

A weight Dean hadn’t really noticed had been there melted away inside his chest, and he actually let out a sigh of relief at all those words. That didn’t mean they were safe from Heaven were the angels to ever discover the nephilim, but it was already a true relief to hear that their baby would be just that—a baby, completely innocent, in no way guilty of anything just by existing.

Silence lingered inside the car for a while after that, and at some point Cas slid sideways on the front seat until his side was pressed up against Dean's, head resting on the hunter's shoulder. 

“What about you?” Dean asked, finally breaking the pause at some point, “What did Gabriel say to you?”

Cas hesitated for a moment before responding. “He said we wouldn’t make it,” he replied lowly, “He tried to convince me it would be better to end things right then instead of just prolonging the inevitable, because even if we found my Grace and cured the Mark, Heaven will still find out about the nephilim eventually. That we can’t hide forever.”

Dean’s hands tightened a little around the wheel, because that was way close to home, as the fact that they would have to hide the baby from Heaven basically for the rest of their lives wasn’t a pleasant possibility, but it was the truth. He swallowed drily before asking, “And how did you break out?”

“Gabriel sounded off. I realized he wasn’t real quickly enough. But it was not easy. He also...” Dean heard the angel letting out a breath, and when he looked briefly to the side the hunter noticed the angel was looking down now, staring at where his hands rested on his lap. “That wasn't all he said. He made a very compelling case of how I deserved to die after everything I did to Heaven. If it was only my life on the line, I’m... I'm not sure what I would have done.”

“Cas—”

“You know it’s true, Dean. You’ve been in my head.”

Yeah, he had, and he hadn’t liked what he’d seen in the least. He remembered the guilt that had coated every single image Dean had seen back in Absarokee, remembered how much self-loathing he had been able to feel, but he hadn’t brought it up back then because Cas had almost died and they had still been trying to figure out where they stood, so it hadn’t felt right, so Dean had decided that was a conversation for another day.

And this wasn’t a good place for this either, but it shouldn’t wait any longer. Dean shouldn’t even have decided to wait the first time, really.

“I have, but that doesn’t mean I agree with anything I saw, Cas. You can't...” He shook his head, voice shaking a little as he added, "If there's an angel that doesn't deserve to die, it's you, Cas. I wish you could see that."

It took Cas a while to respond. “I’m not… I can’t change how I feel about the things I’ve done, Dean, as I know I cannot change your mind about your own past. Like you, I carry a lot of weight from my past errors, and I’m not sure I will ever be able to overcome that.”

Dean swallowed again, but this time he chose to keep quiet. Cas’ words were true, anyway, and there was nothing he could say in response that wouldn’t be outright hypocrite from his part. He had been down this road himself a lot, especially in the past couple of years, so maybe he shouldn’t get a say in this. If it wasn’t for the bond tying his life to Cas', if it wasn’t for the baby, Dean couldn’t know if he wouldn’t have given up already.

So no matter how much he wanted to disagree with Cas, to tell him that the angel should not carry so much blame on his shoulders, he knew it was not his place, not with his own record.

“But your life is tied to mine, just as our child’s is, so of course I fought the box’s mind control, because while I might not value my own life so highly, I could not even _consider_ harming you or the baby in any way.” There was a tremble to the angel’s voice, so much _pain_ coating those words that Dean felt his own chest aching at the sound. “I couldn’t even _think_ about doing it, and that was what snapped me out of the illusion.”

It hurt to even think about it. It hurt, like a stab right through his heart, to even think about how he could have lost Cas today were the specifics of the situation any different, were his own life and the baby’s not on the line. It hurt to realize that Cas thought so lowly of himself the only reason why he _hadn’t_ broken under the weight of the illusion and actually taken his own life had been because of him and the baby. He felt his eyes stinging a little, and he wished he could wrap an arm around the angel right then, that he wasn’t fucking driving and he could just freaking hold Cas.

And there were so many things Dean wanted to say right then, so many words pooling into his mouth, piling up and just begging to be let out, all of them revolving around the same three little words that had been haunting his thoughts for days now. He wanted to tell Cas how much he meant to him, how much it would fucking _hurt_ to lose him, how Dean knew something like that would cripple him, how just thinking about it already had Dean in a panic. He wanted to pull over and scream at Cas for even thinking these things, to ask him how dare he even consider something like that.

But he didn’t do any of that.

“You know, as weird as it sounds, I get it. I’ve been carrying a lot of crap on my shoulders for years now. And if it wasn’t for you and the baby, I don’t know where my mind would be at right now with the Mark. But…” He swallowed, and instead choosing to simply turn his head to the side and kiss the top of Cas’, feeling the angel sigh against him yet again. A tear rolled down his cheek as he talked, voice trembling, “Don’t ever think for even a second that makes it okay. I can't...” His voice failed, and he couldn't stop it from shaking as he whispered, "I can't lose you, Cas."

Cas let out a breath, Dean felt it as much as he heard it. There was a pause, and the hunter was almost convinced the angel wouldn't anything in response until he heard a weak, "And I cannot lose either of you."

Dean couldn't find anything to say in response to that.

The silence that followed was heavy, and Dean really wished to break it, wished he could go on and on about to convince Cas that he was the one angel worth saving, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. Hours passed, and if the bond wasn’t so alert, he would have imagined Cas had fallen back asleep with how still he was.

Until the angel spoke again.

“Are we going to the Bunker?” Cas’ voice was just a whisper, clearly hesitant to speak, but it wasn’t exactly surprising after the conversation they’d just had.

“Not now,” Dean replied just as lowly, “We gotta make sure the Stynes aren’t following first. We can start working on the codex for now.”

The pause that followed felt loaded, and Dean could literally almost feel how Cas wanted to say something but was for some reason holding back, and the human knew it wasn't because of some lingering heaviness from their previous topic. This had been happening since they’d first found out about the codex, and it still had Dean confused.

“You know, you don’t sound so thrilled about the codex,” he commented, “I mean, I’m not happy about using the Book either. It doesn’t feel right. Dark magic like that always has a price and I’m not happy with taking that risk here. But…”  He glanced down briefly, but from that angle he couldn’t quite see the angel’s face, “I feel like there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Another pause, this one even heavier than the previous, but Dean let the silence last, waiting patiently for a response.

Until Cas let out a breath, a tired, relented sigh that made the angel sag even more against the hunter. “We need to find my Grace first. I’m afraid… I wouldn’t survive a spell to remove the Mark at this point.”

The words were a surprise, but as they echoed inside his head Dean realized maybe they shouldn’t have been. With how weak Cas was, it really shouldn’t have been hard to assume that on his own, and yet it had never even crossed his mind.

“Well,” Dean shrugged a little, because honestly, that wasn’t too much of a problem at this point, “Then we track your Grace first. Even if the Stynes are still following us… we’ll figure it out, okay?” He felt Cas relax a little against him, and then a nod against his shoulder. “Why didn’t you just say it, though?”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Dean. I’ve known this since before we knew about the codex and the feathers. I didn’t… I didn’t want to add to your stress, not while we had no leads at all.”

Dean didn’t like how Cas was basically saying that he would rather take all the burdens onto his own shoulders instead of sharing the weight of them with Dean, but he decided to drop the subject for now, so instead he just nodded, and then let the silence take over the inside of the car once more. Cas didn’t seem to have any complaints about that, melting even more against the human and not letting out another word.

For a while, Dean wondered if maybe he should suggest now that Cas took another angel's Grace if they couldn't head to the Bunker soon, to buy more time, but he chose not to do it right now. He'd had enough heavy, difficult conversations for one car drive, so instead he just let the silence take over for the rest of the trip, deciding to bring it up later.

They drove until it was dark, but they didn’t get too far as they'd opted for back roads and loops to make it harder for the Stynes if the psychos were actually trying to follow them somehow. They didn’t even leave Missouri in the end, as soon they were all too exhausted to continue driving, deciding to settle in Branson for a few days to rest and recover.

They couldn’t find an abandoned place to break into that wasn’t in the actual town and surrounded by neighbors who might notice there was something wrong, and since motels were definitely still off for now, they decided a cabin might be the best option, as there were plenty to rent.

Dean and Cas were the ones to rent it, since the odds of the Stynes having laid eyes on them by now were very slim. They rented the biggest cabin for three days under a fake name Dean had never used before and Cas used some mojo on the guy to make the price very reasonable. Dean paid in cash, so they should be safe.

They also bought dinner in town, because as tired as they all were, they were also pretty much starving, as they hadn’t stopped for food on the way at all.

The cabin was pretty nice, an obvious upgrade from the house in St. Louis, and barely any words were spoken as they all swallowed their food and then simply filed into their respective rooms to settle in and get ready to sleep, but unfortunately there was only one bathroom in the place so that had been a little inconvenient. Sam took a very quick shower, fortunately, then so did Charlie, and when finally it was Dean and Cas’ turn, they were both so utterly exhausted that they did nothing apart from actually showering together. They were both pretty much glued to each other, though, and Dean was pretty sure their conversation in the car on the way here was to blame for that, but he wasn’t complaining. He hugged Cas, held him as close as he could under the warm water spray, let the feeling of the angel’s hands and lips on his skin ground him, like a reminder that the angel was alive and well, that he was _there._

And as soon as they were done in the bathroom they were off to bed, curling up to one another under the covers and passing out almost instantly.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean really wished to say he had been so tired that he'd actually had a good night of sleep.

That, however, had not been the case.

His mind was plagued with images he knew had been brought on by his and Cas’ conversation the day before. He saw himself running into Suzie’s house and finding Cas on the floor, Angel Blade buried in his chest, crimson blood staining his shirt around the wound, eyes open and empty. He saw angels breaking down the door of the Bunker to take him and Cas away because of the nephilim. He saw himself curled up on the floor, crying out in pain and gripping his still flat stomach as the contractions kept coming, one after the other, blood sliding down his thighs. He saw himself holding Cas in his arms, crying as the angel coughed up blood, wheezing as his Grace burned away because they were too late.

He saw himself burying the First Blade right into his own freaking chest.

One after the other, the nightmares didn’t let him sleep. He woke up every few hours, reaching out for Cas in the dark to make sure he was still there, feeling the angel’s heart beat under his palm, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the heat of the seraph’s arms around him as Cas held him close in an attempt to calm the human down whenever the angel woke up because of him throughout the night. Dean's hand would rest on his stomach every time, pressing against the bump, reminding himself that they were all _fine,_  and soon after Cas would cover it with his own, pressing endless kisses to the side of his head and muttering that he was still there, that they were both safe.

Cas didn’t even comment on why Dean kept waking up so distraught. He didn’t ask what was happening whenever he woke up. He just hugged Dean close, kissed him and did everything he could to soothe the human, although Dean had a feeling the angel knew exactly what wasn’t letting him sleep.

When morning came Dean didn’t immediately get up, instead choosing to lay around in bed until he heard noises from someone moving around in the living room, because the last thing he needed right now was a repeat of what had happened in St. Louis when he’d been left alone and free to wander around the house looking for the Book.

And when he did get up he found Sam in the living room, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand and a plate with some buttered toast and fried bacon placed on the table before him.

And then Dean was turning back on his heels and running to the bathroom because of the heavy bacon smell that lingered in the air, emptying his stomach into the toilet.

Oh, well, it seemed his morning sickness wasn’t completely gone.

“Dude, you okay?” Sam asked from the door.

“Yeah,” Dean panted, swallowing once and grimacing at the taste. “Just not feeling too great this morning, that’s all.”

Sam didn’t look really convinced, but he didn’t insist.

Dean chose to stick with toast and a mug of coffee, struggling with his nausea as he tried to swallow his food while the smell of bacon was still very strong in the air. Sam actually looked a little guilty because of it, so much that Dean actually felt bad, but there was not much more they could do about it other then simply cracking open a few windows.

Sam had gotten up early to start working on the codex, it seemed, so Dean joined him once he was finally done with his food.

As it turned out, though, the codex didn’t make any freaking sense. It wasn’t like a dictionary or anything. It seemed completely unorganized, with a bunch of symbols simply scrawled on the pages, and most of the time it was almost impossible to tell which symbols were meant to be the meaning and which ones were the thing being translated.

Awesome.

They still tried, though. They started comparing the writings in the Book to everything in the codex, attempting to match the symbols, trying to understand the logic or what they were supposed to do once they found the symbol they were looking for, but they were failing miserably at it.

Charlie joined them after about an hour, but she also had no freaking idea how to use the codex.

Time passed, and with every minute that ticked away Dean’s resolve slowly faded. Rowena’s words about how not simply anyone would be able to read the codex kept replaying in an endless loop inside his head, about how she might in fact be the only witch alive who might be able to do it, and he was slowly starting to believe those words, as much as he wanted not to.

Charlie and Sam were quite intent on trying, though, struggling for hours to try to understand how to use the codex to read the Book, copying and comparing symbols nonstop, trying to find the patterns, the logic behind what was written in the codex. Charlie even had her laptop running some algorithms to try and find matches, to figure out patterns, with no luck so far. They didn’t seem to be making any progress with it at all, but again, they were insistent.

At some point Dean found himself just leaning back on the couch, his lack of sleep really catching up to him, but he didn’t want to fall asleep; didn’t want to go back to the nightmares that had made his night a living hell, so instead he willed his mind to stay awake, to pay attention to the words Sam and Charlie were saying, but eventually everything became blurry and the words sounded so far away he couldn’t quite make out what they meant.

His eyelids slipped shut eventually, but he didn’t fall asleep. He felt light, floating weightlessly, like he was stuck in that weird limbo before you actually fall asleep.

_You’re wasting time._

The voice was whispered, and it sounded loud, much louder than Dean was used to hearing it. The words sounded hissed, almost echoing, like said by only one voice and a hundred all at once, and that send a weird, uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

_The Book is waiting. Find it. Take it. It’s yours._

He could see the Book in his head, as if it was right there in front of his eyes, within reach. He could almost feel the weight of it in his hand, feel the thrill of holding it as its power poured into him just from being in contact with it.

_No one can stand in your way. Take it. Find it. You need it._

He didn’t know where it was, where Sam and Charlie had hidden it, but he was sure he could find it. He would tear down the entire cabin if he needed to. And then finally he would be off with the Book. The Stynes wouldn’t find him, and everything would be fine.

_You need it. Find it. Don’t let anyone stand in your way._

Yeah, he should do that. He should just look for it, no matter who tried to stop him. He could deal with anyone who tried to take the Book from him. He could just—

“Dean!”

He shot up, heart picking up a frantic pace inside his chest as he looked around with wide, startled eyes. There was a hand on his shoulder and for some reason he really wanted it off, but he held back from pushing at it, shaking his head and looking up to find both Sam and Charlie staring at him, eyes confused and maybe a little scared.

Oh. Awesome.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam asked, hand gripping Dean’s shoulder a little more tightly, squeezing it in what Dean assumed was meant to show support, and Dean shied away from the touch without even thinking about it, feeling his head spin.

The Mark burned, wailed, saying that they were cornering him, that he should lash out.

He shook his head, swallowing thickly. “I’m fine.”

“You were talking,” Charlie said, “Mumbling, really. And it looked like you were in pain.”

“It’s…” Dean shook his head again, swallowing again, his breath coming in a little short. The room was still spinning, the burn of the Mark too insistent, the voices too loud, and as he looked around all he could think about was where they had hidden the Book. Maybe he could—

“Do you want us to get Cas?”

Dean sprung up at the words, shaking his head vehemently. “No!” he said, and then realized he had yelled the word out as the two flinched. He shook his head, forcing his voice to grow lower and calmer, “No. He needs to sleep. Don’t… don’t wake him. I’m fine, I’m just…”

_You’re wasting time. It’s **yours…**_

The Mark wasn’t letting him think; it was loud, screaming, and fuck, he couldn’t even fucking _think._

He had to _get out of here._

“I just need some air, that’s all.” He started to walk to the door, doing everything he could not to pull up the sleeve of his jacket to scratch at the Mark until it became a bloody smear on his arm, but a hand gripped his wrist before he could actually get there.

“Dean.”

Dean spun around to face Sam, actually having to hold himself back from pulling his arm free. His skin was burning, itching, and fuck, _he just wanted some fucking **air.**_

“Are you sure we shouldn’t…”

“Cas is exhausted, Sam. I barely slept at all and I kept waking him up throughout the night. He needs to sleep.” And maybe he was sharing more than he should right now, maybe his filter wasn’t working properly because this was doing the opposite of making Sam less worried about him, but if that made his brother drop it and let him go, then honestly, he didn’t really care.

Sam frowned, taking a beat to process all of that until his gaze fell to Dean’s arm, the one where the Mark resided under his clothes. He swallowed, shaking his head lightly, and when he spoke again his voice was tentative, hesitant, “Is there… Can we do anything?”

“No,” Dean let out lowly, shaking his head again, because he really should talk to Cas about this, not them. They didn’t know about the baby. They didn’t know just how complicated their situation really was, how much they didn’t even know. Once more he was reminded of the fact that he had to tell them. This was long due, had been for weeks, but right now wasn’t the time, not when his mind felt so far away, not when all he could think about was how he needed to get out of this cabin.

Not with the Mark fucking screaming inside his head.

“I just need some air, really. I'll just go for a drive.”

Sam didn’t look convinced in the slightest, and he even opened his mouth to say something, probably protest or insist that Dean didn’t look fine at all, that he shouldn't go out like this, let alone drive a car, but he ended up closing it a moment later and he letting his hand fall to his side. Charlie also didn’t say anything else, just watched him with worried eyes, looking like she also wanted to say something, but thought better of it, just as Sam had.

It wasn’t like he was helping all that much with the codex, anyway. They wouldn’t really miss him; it wouldn’t make much of a difference that he wouldn’t be here for a while.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” Dean offered, hoping that Sam wouldn’t insist; that his brother would let this one slide.

Sam nodded tightly, clenching his jaw. He wasn’t happy with this, and his eyes fell back down to Dean’s arm before settling back onto his brother’s face. “Yeah, okay,” he let out weakly, nodding again.

Charlie gave him a weak smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Dean was sure they both knew exactly what was happening to him, but fortunately they didn’t press, didn’t seem like they would try to stop him now.

So Dean left, hoping a trip to town to would help him calm down, that driving the Impala would clear his head as it always did. And of course, that being away from the Book would actually make the Mark calm the fuck down and stop messing with his thoughts.

He could only hope it would work.

***~*~*~*~***

As it turned out, going into town alone had been a terrible idea.

He had been right, though—driving the Impala for a few hours had done wonders. With the radio blasting, he just let himself enjoy the drive, forget everything and just feel the engine, hear her purr, feel her move on the road, stepping on the gas a little and going just a tad above the speed limit but not as much as he really wished to, because that would be reckless and that wasn’t something he could be right now, not when his life wasn't the only one on the line here.

Being away from the Book seemed to be exactly what he’d needed to get the Mark to fucking calm down, but it took a while. By the time Dean felt like himself again, it was already a bit past noon, and he decided it was probably time to head back.

He texted Sam to warn him and then stopped at a restaurant to buy everyone lunch, and as he’d driven through town once that was done, he’d remembered that Charlie had requested snacks the other day. That would have been a good thing to have during their trip here, Dean realized, to have something to chew on during the car right, so he’d stopped at a convenience store to take care of that.

And that was where he ran into the Stynes.

He knew it was his fault. He’d opened the box, and they must have been able to track it, even in those short seconds the Book had been exposed. But he hadn’t imagined they would manage to find them this quickly, or that they’d be able to follow them here. It seemed Sam and Charlie hadn’t actually lost them as they had thought, because to get here this fast, the Stynes had to have been at least just a few towns away.

But that didn’t matter, because it was Dean’s fault that they were here now; that they had actually _found_ them, and he had to fix that.

There were four of them in total, and Dean knew fighting them all off wasn’t a smart option. But there had been only one of them behind the counter when he'd first walked into the store and Dean had just acted on instinct, hadn't even thought before acting. He'd thought he could take the guy, and he hadn't imagined the others would be waiting outside, even though he knew he should have. He regretted starting up a fight as soon as he realized his mistake, especially when one of them, the one who had been alone in here before and had apparently killed the actual cashier, saw the Mark on his arm and a weird, interested spark appeared in the man’s eyes.

Dean did everything he could not to take any hits to his stomach, and he’d managed to down one of them, but there were still three left standing and he wasn’t sure he could take them all at the same time while still protecting the baby. Still, he let his body just go through the motions he had gotten used to over the years, that were pretty much natural to him now, that he had been doing pretty much his entire life. He laid punch after punch, dodged blow after blow, but eventually the fact that he was still outnumbered became too much for him and one of the guys caught him in a headlock.

The man was strong, as they all seemed to be—they seemed inhuman, and Dean wondered what exactly these guys were, because it had taken twelve fucking bullets to actually kill one of them earlier—but Dean wasn’t the average human either. He had the Mark of Cain on his arm and was bonded to an angel, so a moment later he managed to get free from the man's grasp, spinning his body around and actually throwing the guy holding him off a few feet to the side.

He felt a pressure against his throat as he did it, though, a sharp sting that actually hurt for a full second until suddenly something seemed to have given out. At first he had no idea what that had been, what the guy had held onto while he was falling, until his eyes found something falling to the floor before him.

The amulet.

He watched it fall in slow motion, following it in silence with wide eyes, holding his breath as it clattered against the floor, the sound surprisingly loud and terrible to his ears, so much he flinched at it, feeling his heart skip a beat inside his chest.

_Fuck._

And of course that distracted him, as suddenly his mind could focus on nothing else other than how Heaven might be able to sense the nephilim now, about how he had to reach out and grab the amulet before it was too late, and that was his mistake.

But he didn't get the chance to move even a single inch toward the amulet. There was a knife pressed to his throat a second later and he froze, feeling hands grabbing him, twisting his arms behind his back painfully and forcing him down, making him sink to his knees.

He looked up, and the man that had been behind the counter when he’d walked into the store was towering over him, straightening his clothes and patting them, like getting imaginary dirty off of them. If Dean wasn't freaking out so much right then, he would have rolled his eyes at it.

“Under any other circumstances, you would be dead right now,” the man spoke, looking down at Dean, the superiority in his gaze clear. Dean hated it, and he wished he could have hit the guy a little more than he had. Apparently the few punches he’d gotten into him hadn’t been enough to fix the guy's attitude. “But I have to admit it: I’m officially interested in how you got that Mark on your arm. Something tells me you want to remove it, though, and that has everything to do with the Book of the Damned, doesn’t it? And this…” He held up the amulet, which he had probably fetched from the floor at some point while Dean was being manhandled. There was recognition in his gaze, and Dean immediately knew the man knew exactly what that amulet was for. “What an odd thing to wear. It makes me wonder whether or not there is an actual reason for it to be around your neck…” His eyes flitted down to Dean’s stomach and then back up to meet the hunter’s eyes, and the spark in them was suddenly even more obvious.

Dean's insides froze, and he swallowed drily.

This was bad. This was _so fucking bad._

The man leaned down a little, smirking down at Dean, that interested spark still glistening very obviously in his eyes. It made Dean feel nauseous and anxious, but he found no use in struggling against the two other guys holding him still. He couldn’t break free and it would be too risky to try anyway, since there was still a damn knife pressed against his throat.

“I might be able to find some use for you alive, so consider yourself lucky.”

The words made his stomach drop, and Dean reached for the bond, but it felt numb. Cas was most likely still asleep, and Dean had no way to call for help from anyone else.

Still, he had to try to reach out to Cas. He wouldn’t lose anything because of it, and it was the only thing he could do right then.

 _Cas?_ He threw all the energy he could into the bond, but he got no response from the angel, no sign that he had been heard at all. _Cas, please._

The bond felt just as numb as it had before.

“Get him ready to travel.”

Dean frowned, confused as to what those words could potentially mean but already dreading it nonetheless, because that didn’t sound good at all. Panic flooded him and he tried to call for Cas one last time.

_Cas!_

He didn’t get the chance to know if it had worked. Just a moment later something hit him in the back of the head, and his whole world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this long chapter made up for the wait. :P
> 
> The other reason for the Frankenstein nickname is that this is the first time the Stynes actually appear in the story, so it seemed oddly fitting. ;D
> 
> Have a wonderful week, everyone!<3 :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Season 12 Finale + Season 13 Spoiler Warning**  
>     
> I had planned to post this on Thursday after the finale, but of course that didn't happen. I don't cry easily, like at all, but I did cry after the finale. I cried _a lot_. The finale broke me so much that I gave up on editing this on Thursday because I just couldn't do it anymore. This whole thing made me realize just how much I love Cas, because it hurt _so much_ to watch him die like that.
> 
> I've calmed down enough now, though. Seriously, JIB8 just swooped in and healed most of the wounds, basically, and now I'm finally convinced that everything will be fine and that Cas will be okay. Jared's slip during his panel with Jensen that confirmed Misha will in fact be in season 13 was basically everything I needed to hear right now, honestly, and now I'm just really curious about how we'll get Cas back. I'm just over here hoping to see Dean doing everything he can to get his angel back next season.
> 
> Not so hopeful about getting Crowley back, though, and I'm really sad about losing him too. *sigh*
> 
> Anyway, I hope I make at least one person feel better with this chapter. I just really wish that given the circumstances this one could be happier, but it's not, and I'm sorry.
> 
> Be strong, everyone. Cas will be fine. We'll all be fine. *bear hug*<333
> 
> **End of Warning**
> 
> Okay, so this chapter... I'm not sure what to say about it, other than that I'm weirdly proud of it. It's actually one of my personal favorites, honestly. But I'm also _very_ nervous about it, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't believe how many times I rewrote this one, or how many hours I spent editing it, so... yeah.
> 
> I'm just going to go ahead and apologize in advance for this. XD
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains mentions of infanticide, miscarriage, torture and death of two main characters, plus a pretty graphic flashback of Dean's death in the season 3 finale. It also contains spoilers for the episode 12x10, "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets".
> 
> Also, I would like to, once more, point out the fact that there is **no actual miscarriage** tag on this fic, as well as **no Major Character Death** warning either. Just... pointing that out again. For reasons. Yeah. *backs away slowly*

“Dean?” The word flew from Castiel’s lips before he was even completely conscious, and once he realized what he’d done he frowned in confusion to himself, as he was not sure why it had happened at all. It felt like a response somehow, like Dean had called for him and he was merely replying to it, but once he was fully awake there was only silence around him. He blinked, startled as he planted his hands on the mattress beneath him, lifting his body slightly as he looked around the room, confusion settling in for a moment until finally he recognized the walls of the cabin they were currently inhabiting in Branson, Missouri.

But Dean wasn’t lying on the bed with him as he’d expected, and that realization immediately set a weight inside Castiel's chest. His body was tense, heart beating faster than normal against his ribcage, and he had no idea why any of it was happening, only that it all made him incredibly uneasy.

It was also a little disorienting, honestly, so much that he didn’t immediately move to get up from the bed. But his Grace whined inside of him in warning, pained and worried, like a cry for help, a plea for him to do something, urging him to go look for Dean, to find the hunter and their child to make sure they were safe, and instantly he knew there was something wrong.

Even with the tiredness that still lingered in his bones and muscles, the constant ache in his body that seemed unwilling to go away no matter how much rest he managed to get these days, Castiel forced himself to get up from the bed, wincing as his entire body complained, doing his best to ignore the pain, though he was unable to conceal the handful of low grunts that escaped his mouth as he attempted to haul himself up into a sitting position. He couldn’t feel anything coming from the soul bond, which normally signaled that Dean was either unconscious or far away, but the hunter was not currently asleep beside him in their room. That thought was already enough to make Cas anxious, but he attempted to ignore that feeling for now. Maybe Dean had fallen asleep on the couch out in the living room, he reasoned, or maybe he had gone out to buy them all food in town. The fact that he was not here did not immediately mean that there was something wrong.

Although that was precisely what the bond seemed to be trying to tell him. Something told Castiel that any of those scenarios would not be the case. His Grace whined once more as if to agree with that thought, to tell him that there was indeed something wrong, but he allowed himself to be hopeful for the few seconds it took him to leave their bedroom and reach the cabin’s living room.

Dean was nowhere in sight. Sam and Charlie were working on research there, books, laptops and papers spread all over the wooden surface of the coffee table much like they had done back in St. Louis, but there was absolutely no sign of the older Winchester brother anywhere around the room. Part of Castiel still insisted that maybe the hunter was somewhere else; that perhaps he had gone to town buy them lunch, but the angel could already feel his heart beating even faster inside his chest once he realized Dean was not there with the others. His Grace was warning him for a reason, and that could only mean something must have happened to Dean.

“Cas?” Sam sat up a little straighter on the couch, turning around and frowning in confusion as soon as his eyes focused on the angel, as apparently the human was immediately able to tell there was something wrong just by looking at the seraph. Charlie was also staring, and it was just then that Castiel realized he hadn’t yet greeted them at all since first entering the room. Maybe that was why his behavior had immediately been so obviously odd to them, he reasoned. “You okay?”

“You look a little pale there, buddy,” Charlie agreed.

There wasn’t time for idle conversation, as the pain coming from his Grace was quick to tell him, so Castiel went straight to the point. “Where’s Dean?”

He watched as Sam and Charlie exchanged a brief look, some sort of silent communication happening between the pair right before his eyes, although with no words exchanged out loud between them whatsoever, so the angel had no means to decipher what it could possibly mean. The scene made him even more anxious, but he reasoned that if something truly bad had happened, if they knew that Dean was in danger of any sort, then surely they would have woken him. They would not even be here, reading through research as if there was not a single thing wrong in the world.

Castiel gripped tightly onto that thought, but it did very little to soothe him. They most likely had no idea something had happened if Dean had truly left to go into town.

“He wasn’t feeling too well, so he went for a drive a few hours ago,” Charlie replied, “He texted Sam a while ago saying he was going to buy lunch, so he should be back soon.”

“Wasn’t feeling too well?” Castiel repeated, worry about Dean’s well-being quickly making itself known in his chest. His Grace whined again in response, reminding him yet again that there was indeed something wrong, as if its point had just been proved, but he wondered if whatever had caused the hunter’s discomfort earlier, whatever reason Dean must have had to leave the cabin for a drive might be the same reason why Castiel’s Grace hurt so much now. It must have been the Mark, he realized.

And yet he knew there must be another reason for his Grace to be so desperate, for such a clear warning to be ringing through the bond, urging him to go find Dean. Something else must have happened.

He should not have slept, he realized it then. Clearly the Mark had started to act up while he had been asleep, and he should have been here to ground Dean, to help him shake off the control the Mark still had in his mind. Castiel was very much aware of how much Dean was struggling with both the Mark and the Book, and yet he had left his mate to fend for himself and their child on his own.

The pair exchanged another look, and the angel felt annoyed once more that he did not know what their silent communication meant, had no idea how to read any of it.

“He was…” Sam shook his head lightly, clearly choosing his words cautiously, “I think it was the Mark, or the Book. Probably both, actually.”

“What happened, Sam?” Castiel asked, voice firm as his annoyance at not knowing what exactly had happened grew stronger, and he was certain some of it must have bled into his words.

The Winchester let out a breath, and he seemed unsure of how to reply, almost like the answer he had in mind pained him, or as if he couldn’t possibly find the right words to voice it with.

Castiel turned to Charlie, only to find a very similar expression on her face.

“He fell asleep on the couch,” she offered quietly, “And he was… muttering. We think he was having a nightmare, but it seemed like way more than that somehow. It sounded like he was in pain or something, not really like just in the nightmare, like _actually_ in pain. And then when he woke up he even looked a little disoriented.”

It surely sounded like the Mark, for certain another one of the mind tricks it seemed very insistent on putting Dean through lately, which made Castiel feel even guiltier for not being awake when Dean had needed him here beside him. The Mark had been too loud and agressive since they’d gotten close to the Book, incessant almost, so of course he could not leave his guard down so easily when it came to Dean, not with the Mark so active.

He should have been here.

“And you let him leave?” the angel asked, not even bothering to hide his surprise. If Dean had been so perturbed by the Mark, disoriented as Charlie had said, then he was in no state to drive a vehicle. They shouldn’t have left him leave the cabin on his own.

Sam let out a breath, shaking his head a little. “We didn’t want to, but he looked actually terrified, Cas. We didn’t know what to do.” There was an obvious plea in the human’s voice as Sam spoke, guilt mingling in with his words, pouring into them freely. It was clear he regretted letting Dean go now, but that in no way fixed anything. “I asked him if he wanted us to wake you, but he started freaking out even more when I said it. He said you needed to sleep and that he just needed some air, so he went for a drive.”

All of it sounded like Dean, and Castiel wasn’t surprised to hear any of it, but that did not in any way mean he agreed that letting the hunter go in his clearly distressed state had been the right call to make.

But then again, neither Sam nor Charlie knew the true extent of their situation, so of course they had not made a decision Castiel agreed with. Once more Castiel was reminded of his earlier worries, of how Sam and Charlie’s obliviousness to the baby would turn out to be harmful to the nephilim someday, and this might turn out to be that situation, the exact scenario he had feared so vehemently until now.

 _Dean?_ he tried tentatively, probbing at the bond, but he got no reply from Dean of any sort. The bond remained completely numb and limp between them, which only spiked his worry.  _Dean, can you hear me?_

The lack of response felt odd; the silence too heavy.

“How long exactly has he been gone for?”

Charlie glanced down at her computer screen, probably to check the time. “Almost four hours, I think.” She paused as she looked back up at the angel, her frown intensifying even more, as if she’d just then noticed something on his face. Sam was giving him a very similar look, so he guessed his worry must be very obviously displayed on his features. He was not trying to hide it, anyway. “Seriously, Cas, what’s wrong?”

And that was precisely the question Castiel wished he knew the answer to. He didn’t know if something had truly happened to Dean or if the bond was simply warning him that the Mark was being active again, as it normally did. He had no way of knowing which one of those was the truth right now for certain, not with how numb the connection between him and Dean felt in that moment, and that doubt caused an ache in his chest that didn’t seem willing to fade away.

Castiel let out a frustrated breath, shaking his head lightly, “I’m not sure. I don’t—”

Pain.

The room around Castiel was suddenly out of focus, his vision going blurry without a warning and everything around him becoming nothing more than a mix of color and meaningless shapes that his brain no longer had the ability to process. He could feel his balance was gone, a weird feeling of being constantly falling settling in his stomach for no apparent reason, as though the floor had been abruptly removed from under his feet, and out of a primal instinct buried deep within him, his shoulders tensed in reflex to beat the wings that were no longer there in an attempt to try and regain even a tiny bit of balance, but of course that did not work. He wondered briefly if maybe his legs had given out under his weight, but he could not tell, could not feel the floor beneath his body at all, could not tell for sure whether he was even still standing upright or not.

And he had no means to figure out any of that. No, all he could pay attention to were the hundreds of disembodied voices echoing inside his head, all speaking at the same time, bouncing off the insides of his skull loudly, words overlapping as the voices all talked simultaneously and over one another, making it impossible to actually make out full sentences. But if he tried to concentrate on specific voices he found that he could catch a few joined words that made at least a little bit of sense, and that was already enough to let him understand what exactly was happening.

_…hidden for months. It is not…_

_...in Heaven, but that does not mean they could not have been on Earth. We have…_

_…in Missouri. The signal is not…_

_…aberration needs to be destroyed. It can’t…_

_…uncovered… cloaking removed. It was strong. The location…_

_…still being gestated. By the strength of the signal, it’s existed for almost 5 months. It hasn’t…_

_…abomination... protected somehow…_

_…Branson. We need at least 5…_

_…nephilim must die before it’s born. It cannot…_

_…spawn of a seraph. The identity needs to be checked. It could not be tracked…_

_…energy is oddly strong. This is abnormal. Does it not…_

_…Hannah will lead. We cannot waste…_

“Cas!”

There were hands gripping his arms, supporting his weight as they tried to keep him steady on his feet (so he _was_ still standing. He would have guessed otherwise), but that was not important at the moment; it didn’t matter at all that he could no longer stand up straight without the two humans holding him up, nor that the pain in his head was still strong and he felt as if his skull was about to split open in half. Nothing that was happening around him in that cabin mattered in any way right now, because there was a much more important issue that was now demading to become sole center of his attention in his head, so with great effort Castiel managed to pull his thoughts away from the voices and block them, putting up a wall between his conscience and the Host's signal so he could gather his bearings without getting overwhelmed.

And as finally he could hear his own thoughts again, one single fact was crystal clear in his head, taking over his entire mind, and that was all he could focus on in that moment.

Heaven knew. There was just no other possible way to understand what all those words echoing inside his head meant, even if Castiel had no idea how the Host could have possibly found out about the nephilim. Had the necklace failed? Or maybe something had truly happened to Dean? He had felt the hunter reaching out to him as he'd woken up earlier, he was sure of it now, so perhaps that had indeed been a cry for help, not because of the Mark, but of _something else_. The bond was truly warning him for a reason.

That thought was overwhelmingly terrifying, fear pouring into him like a powerful tidal wave now that he actually had the confirmation that there was something terribly wrong, but Castiel pushed the feeling away, telling himself harshly that panic would do nothing to help him at this moment. He needed to be rational, to actually think coherently about this or else he would get nowhere. His panic could very easily cause the deaths of his mate and child, and fortunately that thought alone was enough to force his mind to cooperate.

Angels could no longer fly—that at least was a point in their favor. And as Heaven’s entrance on Earth was several states away, it would take the angels that were in this very moment being sent out to find them at least a day to get here, as they would have to drive, or at least find some other viable human way to travel. That gave them time to act; to find Dean and leave this town; to hide Dean again and get as far from the beacon that this city had suddenly become as they possibly could.

“Something happened to Dean,” Castiel finally let out, not bothering to attempt to hide the urgency in his voice. They needed to act fast; Sam and Charlie had to know the gravity of their current situation, even if they weren’t aware of the actual reason for it. It might be harder than necessary to convey to them how truly disastruous their situation was, but Castiel believed he could manage it. “There’s something wrong with him. We need to find him.”

“What? Are you sure?” Sam stood up from the couch as he asked, eyes wide and filled with worry, “You can feel that? Do you know what happened? Was that what you just…?”

“I woke up thinking I heard Dean call to me; felt him reach out to me through the bond, asking for help,” Castiel explained, carefully choosing his words as he spoke, “But he is not here, so I couldn’t tell what exactly that meant. And the bond is numb, weirdly so. It feels different than what it’s like when Dean is simply far away. And now…” He swallowed, shaking his head as he reminded himself once more that he could not explain to them exactly what he had just heard inside his head. He couldn’t tell them why exactly Heaven was coming for them; he couldn’t even mention it at all, in fact, if he wished to completely avoid suspicion. “There’s something wrong, and whatever happened, Dean reached out to me to ask for help before…” He shook his head again, “I’m not sure what, but whatever happened, I assume he might be unconscious. The bond feels too quiet now.”

Sam was already stumbling toward the door by the time the angel was done talking, already throwing on a jacket over his shirt, looking very alarmed. “Do you know where he is?”

“No,” Castiel shook his head, “I can’t feel anything coming from him.”

“Maybe it’s the Stynes,” Charlie pointed out, “Maybe they found him or something.” It was a possibility, Castiel realized with dread, although he was not sure how that could have possibly led to the necklace failing. Maybe they had taken it from him? “They’ll recognize me if they see me, though. You two should go. Someone has to stay back to make sure they don’t come here and get the Book, anyway, and you’ll have a bigger chance of going by unnoticed. I’ll stay back.”

Sam paused, as if something had just occurred to him. “This could very easily be a trap to get us out of here. You sure?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Go. I can hold my own, Sam. Already went up against those assholes a few times now, but I doubt they even know where we are. They would be here already if they did. It's not like us being here would stop them. And if that does happen, well, I can hold my own for as long as I need to make a break for it with the Book. I’ll be fine.”

Sam did not seem entirely convinced, but he nodded in agreement anyway. It wasn’t like they had much of a choice in the matter.

They drove into town in the Lincoln, as it was the only car available, and Castiel carefully guided the vehicle through the streets of Branson for countless minutes, trying to follow the bond, to figure out in which direction he should be going, but it was oddly difficult to do it and he wasn’t sure why. With Dean closer the bond should have at least perked up slightly by now.

But it hadn't. There was no tug to guide him in any way, no way to know where Dean was at all. It was like Castiel was being blocked somehow, the signal coming from the bond now so weak that he could barely feel it. He could already feel the panic rising in his throat at that thought, just as he could see it painted on Sam’s features as the younger Winchester’s eyes danced all around the passing scenery out the car windows, paying attention to every single detail his gaze could latch on to outside, expert eyes looking for any trace of Dean in every story, every building, every darkened alley, but there seemed to be nothing to find.

That was, until they saw the Impala parked outside of a convenience store.

“I can’t feel him in there,” Castiel pointed out. He might not be able to track Dean right now, but if he was close, the angel would be able to feel him, he was sure of it. No cloaking would ever be able to keep him from feeling his mate at a short distance; whatever had been done to Dean was keeping the angel from being able to follow the bond to where the hunter was, simply that, so this could only mean that his mate was not in there. But Dean's car was outside, so he must have had been taken somewhere else.

Castiel swallowed drily at the thought. Sam turned on his seat, eyes growing even more worried as he heard those words, but he said nothing as Castiel carefully parked the Lincoln beside the Impala.

They walked inside without a word, not sure what to expect, but ready to fight at any second. Castiel’s hand itched, begging for him to grab his Angel Blade from inside his coat, fingers twitching as the request was denied while they were still outside the store and very much visible to any person passing by. Sam also did not move to grab any weapon, most likely for the same reason, and Castiel could clearly read the anxiety that restriction brought to him as the hunter moved beside him, muscles tense and prepared.

The store was completely empty, but the most concerning thing about its state were the products scattered all over the floor—packages and boxes of food littering a great portion of the store, some even torn as their contents pooled over the tiles—isles knocked off their usual alignment as if something had been heavily pushed against them. There had been a fight here, and the sight of it already made Cas feel even more nervous.

They needed to find Dean. Heaven should already have angels on the way by now, so time was running out quickly. He could not have the Host find Dean before he did; they would kill him on the spot. He was still not sure how exactly they had discovered about the nephilim, but he feared Dean was no longer wearing the necklace, and if that was the case, now he could be tracked.

Or maybe he could not. Castiel could not be sure that Dean was no longer wearing the amulet, and even if he wasn't, maybe his mate was hidden from him the way he was thanks to whatever warding had been put around the hunter, such a strong cloaking that it blocked even Castiel from finding him, and perhaps it could block the other angels from finding him as well. Still, regardless, Heaven already knew Dean had been in Branson, so maybe that did not matter as much as Castiel wished it did, as they would for sure head to the last place they had been able to pick up a signal from.

But even if that was the case, even if Heaven was in fact headed toward them right now, they could still do this, could still find Dean and leave this town as fast as they possibly could. Castiel knew running from Heaven solved nothing, but that was all he could bring his mind to focus on at the moment. One issue at a time—that was all they could handle right now.

But where was Dean? Someone must have knocked him unconscious or at least harmed him at some point in this store and taken him someplace else, Castiel realized, but would the seraph be able to track him without relying on the soul bond? Could he—

“You sure travel in packs, don’t you?”

Castiel and Sam both turned around at the same time, and in a second Sam had his gun pulled out and the angel was holding his Blade in front of his body, lifted so it was leveled with his chest, both staring at the newcomer that now stood by the checkout counter of the store, which was surprising since he had not been there a moment ago. Castiel wondered how they had not noticed him. The bell should have rung to announce his entrance if he had just now walked into the store, but just a beat later the angel noticed the open service door by the counter and remembered it had been closed when they had first entered.

So this man had been waiting for them in there.

Still, Castiel had not noticed any movement nearby, and that was a little concerning.

“A Styne, I assume,” Sam let out, voice oddly calm as he spoke, though there was a clear edge to his words, an underlying hint of something sharper, not at all friendly or nonchalant, and Castiel knew the man must have noticed it.

Even so, the man did not seem at all apprehensive by their clear hostility. The look in his eyes was actually very close to amused, very obviously unimpressed, and that only made Castiel feel even more uneasy. They might be able to win in a fight, but somehow the angel already knew that would lead to nothing. This man probably had Dean somewhere else far from here, warded and unconscious, or maybe simply locked away, and whatever they did here could have terrible consequences to the hunter, so Castiel knew they had to act with caution.

The man clearly knew he had the upper hand here, and he wanted to make sure they knew that, judging by the relaxed, confident air that surrounded him.

“You have informed yourself about my family, I see. Well, you can call me Jacob, if you’d like.” The man’s eyes were sharp as they flickered between them, calculating, measuring almost. Castiel did not like it. There was an odd, interested sparkle to his gaze as finally it seemed to settle on Castiel, flittering down to the seraph’s hand, taking in the blade he was firmly holding in his grip for a beat before moving back up to meet the angel’s eyes once more.

The man smiled, lifting his hand, showing them what he was holding, and Castiel felt a wave of fear wash through him at the sight.

The amulet.

So it hadn’t failed, after all. The Stynes had most likely found Dean here and had at some point taken the necklace from the hunter, revealing the nephilim’s existence to Heaven the moment it had happened.

There was no other possibility right now; no way that thought was false. Dean was 20 weeks along now; there was absolutely no doubt that without the necklace, without a proper, effective cloak around Dean and the baby, the Host would be able to sense the nephilim, and of course that meant that there were already angels on the way to where Dean was in that very moment, wherever that maybe be, following the particular essence coming from the hybrid growing in the hunter’s womb.

They might actually be tracking Dean right now, if whatever warding that the Stynes had placed around the hunter was only blocking Castiel.

But that was quite improbable. Maybe the Stynes did not know what the amulet was truly for. Maybe Dean was hidden from anyone that might attempt to track him.

Castiel chose to hold onto that hope for now, probably more tightly than he should.

“I’m assuming this is yours,” Jacob said, and in one swift movement he threw the amulet to Castiel, who grabbed it in the air without a thought, feeling numb, lethargic as he did it, muscles feeling oddly heavy and stiff but still managing to grasp it correctly.

The solid feeling of the wooden token against his skin was oddly sharp, heavier, as if it was made of lead instead, because it made this all the more real. It wasn’t an illusion of any sort, a trick. The wooden body of the pendant was solid in his palm, the chord torn in one point, clearly having been ripped from Dean’s neck during the fight that had apparently taken place in this establishment.

“I was curious when I saw that amulet. We have of course heard of such things, but never had I actually seen one, let alone found one actually being worn.”

Castiel’s hold on the amulet tightened at the words, because he knew exactly what the man was trying to convey with those words, which was precisely what the angel had feared to be true just a moment ago. Jacob had clearly already examined the amulet thoroughly already, had most likely done it when he’d first laid his eyes on it, and obviously he knew what it was used for; knew what it was hiding.

And yet he had chosen to give it back now. Castiel briefly wondered why.

“Honestly, I thought maybe it wasn’t there for the reason it was made. It doesn't even make sense, as I assume you already know, even more so with that special Mark on his arm. But suddenly you two are here, one clearly an angel,” The man glanced down at the blade in Castiel’s hand again, and he smirked at how the angel’s muscles tensed even more in reaction, “So it really makes me wonder what an interesting lot you all are.”

Anxiety built up in Castiel’s body, because for months the nephilim had been their very well kept secret, but now suddenly it was all out in the open and the angel had no idea how to fix any of this. This family was dangerous and the fact that not only did they have Dean in their possession, but also they knew that the hunter was carrying an unprotected nephilim, only made it all even worse.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam’s voice was firm, and in that moment Castiel was actually glad that Sam wasn’t aware of Dean’s pregnancy. It kept the human’s mind clear of the terrible fear that was quickly making itself known in the angel’s mind, plaguing his every rational thought and turning it into an incoherent jumble, and that he couldn’t find the will to push away. His dread was clouding his head and most likely impairing his judgment greatly, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The Styne looked amused once more. It was apparently a constant expression on his features, and for some reason it annoyed Castiel. His face showed very clearly how the man thought he was better and perhaps in a way even more powerful than the two of them; that he knew he could take them, or that at least he had an advantage over them that he knew they could not beat, confidence present in every aspect of his stance.

It was very worrying, and it made Castiel even more anxious.

“As I see it, the situation is rather simple and can be solved very easily, as long as everyone is civil.” Jacob’s eyebrows rose a little, eyes jumping back and forth between Sam’s gun and Castiel’s blade before he moved his gaze back up to settle on the other human’s face. “I have something of yours, and you have something of mine.”

“The Book of the Damned is not yours,” Sam pointed out, not once lowering his gun or letting his voice waver. Castiel wasn’t sure that was the most appropriate or astute of approaches, but he also made no move to lower his own blade.

This actually got a low chuckle out of the man, but it sounded low and not amused, either forced or disbelieving, Castiel could not decide.

“Well, perhaps I should rephrase it, then. You have something that I want, and I have something that you want to keep alive. Does that sound about right?”

Sam swallowed, but chose not to answer. Castiel could see the hunter's fingers twitch around his gun, tensing and loosening repeatedly, like all he wanted was to pull the trigger but couldn’t quite make himself do it. He had no other actual reaction to those words, hesitant to do anything in fear of the repercussions it could bring to Dean, Castiel imagined. They could not take the risk.

And Jacob seemed very much aware of that.

“You won’t harm me,” the Styne stated, voice calm and confident, as if there was no arguing against that fact. “If I don’t make a call in ten minutes, your friend, Dean was it?” The man tilted his head, tone detached, as clearly the name meant nothing to him, “Well, he’s dead.” His features hardened, and slowly he reached into his coat. Sam and Castiel both tensed in response, but did nothing more. The man stilled his movements for a beat as he noticed that, probably to make sure they would not try anything against him, before slowly pulling out a small rectangular piece of paper from the inside of his coat, lifting it and holding it up for them to see. “Don’t worry. If you cooperate, we won’t harm either of them. We’ll discuss this in a more…” His eyes danced around the inside of the store, as if taking in its wrecked state for the first time, “Appropriate place, I would say. Retrieve the Book of the Damned because I know you have it hidden somewhere, most likely far from here, I would imagine, as you wouldn’t have come here bearing it. And once you have it, call me on this number so we can negotiate a trade.” His eyes found the angel's once more. “You won’t be able to track him. He’s completely cloaked, and since I figured that thanks to you he might heal too fast from the head wound we gave him to knock him out, he’s also sedated.” Castiel’s grip on his Blade tightened even more at those words, anger sparking to life inside his chest at the thought that they had _dared_ to hurt Dean, that they had _sedated_ him, and it took a lot of the angel's self-control not to charge at the man right then.

The Styne seemed to notice it, since a small, satisfied smile appeared on his lips as he continued his monologue, “Don’t worry, nothing harmful, I assure you; just something to keep him asleep for a little while. He’s hidden specifically so that no angel can find him, including the one he’s bound to. Now, if I were you, I would hurry. Trust me when I say that I wouldn’t recommend leaving me waiting for too long.”

Sam and Castiel made no movement to stop the man as he dropped the paper onto the counter and then proceeded to step out of the store. It wouldn’t change anything if they killed him now, wouldn’t help their situation at all; that would actually make things even more complicated, in fact. And of course, they could not take that risk. Dean and the baby could be harmed at any moment because of that mistake.

But they had to act fast.

They still had some time until any angel could get here, probably until tomorrow at least, and while that wasn’t much, it at least gave them enough time to plan something, to take Dean back from the Stynes and leave town before Heaven could even set a foot anywhere near them. Castiel could only hope Dean’s stress with this whole situation would not be enough to give the Mark a chance to start an early labor, but at least with Dean unconscious for now they most likely did not need to worry about that right now. He wondered what the Stynes had used to sedate Dean, however, and the thought filled him with dread. Could that somehow hurt the baby? Jacob was aware of Dean's pregnancy and he had said the sedatives should not be harmful, but of course the angel did not trust that statement. Castiel wondered if he would be able to feel it if something happened to Dean, if he would be able to sense it if there was anything wrong with the baby, or maybe even detect an early labor through the bond, if their connection would warn him with Dean cloaked and hidden as he was. He assumed so, but maybe—

“Cas.”

Sam was standing a few steps before him, but his gun was now gone and he had turned his body fully to the side to face the angel. Castiel had not noticed him move, and the sudden heaviness in the human’s gaze was a little confusing, if not unsettling. Castiel was not sure what to make of it, because worry was not the only emotion he could see in the human’s eyes. There was something else; something very close to a silent accusation, and the angel was not sure how he should understand it.

Cas frowned in confusion at him, head tilting slightly to the side, a question already forming on his lips when the hunter spoke again.

“Cas, what the hell is going on?”

It took the serapth only a beat to realize what Sam was referring to, and unconsciously his grip on the amulet that still resided in his hand tightened again, fingers folding over the wooden object as if trying to hide it. He knew it would make no difference to hide it from sight, because of course Sam had already seen it before, had examined it rather thoroughly while Dean had been unconscious after Ohio and had even attempted to translate the engravings by himself, and yet Castiel could not control the reaction.

“We need to find Dean,” was the response that jumped from the seraph's lips as finally he put his blade away inside his coat. It was an evasive answer and very obviously not what Sam wished to hear , and yet it was all Castiel managed to say right then, even though he knew it was foolish to expect the younger Winchester to accept it, to simply push the subject away and move on.

Sam let out an annoyed huff, shaking his head, eyes filled with disbelief. “Are you seriously gonna try to keep that up?” The edge of annoyance that bled into the hunter’s voice was sharp and obvious, impossible to ignore. “Cas, I saw the actual _panic_ in your eyes when you saw that amulet in his hand. Whatever you two are keeping from me and Charlie, whatever secret you think it’s worth hiding from us, it clearly plays a part in all of this and I can’t just ignore that now.”

The words were true, Castiel was very much aware of it, and yet all he could find to do was look away from Sam and around the battered shop once more, letting his eyes examine the damage that had been done to it as if he hadn’t yet done it; as if it changed anything. It did relieve him of having to stare into Sam’s accusing gaze, but that was all it did. That did not mean, however, that he could no longer feel the weight of Sam’s stare on his face or the heavy presence of the human’s words inside his chest. He could not push any of that away even if he tried.

“You told me Dean was in no danger over a month ago, that there was no actual immediate risk to him if I didn’t know what was going on or why he was wearing that necklace, and that’s the only reason why I let this go back then; because you told me that Dean was _safe._ ” Castiel heard Sam exhale, and he could almost picture the hunter shaking his head, distress growing more and more obvious in the human's voice with every word that left his mouth. “What was that amulet cloaking Dean from, Cas? Why does Dean need that for protection?”

Swallowing, Castiel nodded in silent understanding. He really did understand it, both back then and now. He understood that Sam had not been happy to be left in the dark about something that could possibly be putting Dean’s life in danger over a month ago, and Castiel knew the hunter would have insisted more on the issue at the time had the angel not told him it had been Dean’s desire to keep their secret from both Sam and Charlie and that whatever information that was being kept from them brought his brother no risk of any kind in their immediate future.

But now of those factors had been removed. Dean’s pregnancy played a big part in the risks surrounding this situation, so of course Sam would find their previous arrangement of waiting for Dean to open up himself no longer valid or reasonable. It was only fair, and Castiel could not have expected a different reaction from him. Sam was worried about Dean, and with reason, so it was truly no surprise at all that he would now demand the truth from the angel, the only one apart from Dean who could give it to him right now.

Castiel had known that this time might come; that at some point there would come a situation where the stakes would be too high and perhaps Dean would not have the luxury of being the one telling Sam about the nephilim. Castiel had seen it coming for weeks now, but he had hoped that would not actually happen; that Dean would in fact be able to have a calm, non-stressful moment to reveal the baby’s existence to his brother. He had even believed they had been very close to achieving that once Dean had started preparing himself for that conversation throughout the past few days, and it had been a relief to think that finally the secrecy would be over.

But it had been too early for that relief; Castiel realized it now.

And as he turned his head to stare into Sam’s eyes again, as he attempted to hold the human’s heavy gaze, the angel knew he was left with no other choice here.

Dean and the baby were in danger, and very much so. Not only by the hands of the Stynes, but of Heaven and even by the Mark if Dean's stress got too high. Everything was working against them right now in a way that made it impossible for anyone to understand the true gravity of the situation if they were not aware of Dean’s pregnancy.

Still, for a moment, Castiel had to remind himself that Dean was ready to tell Sam. The hunter had been preparing for it, had even mentioned how he should have done this sooner, had been planning to do it once the moment felt right, as his mate had insisted. He had been planning to tell Sam and Charlie soon; he hadn’t done it yet not because he wasn’t ready, but because he had not yet had the right opportunity to do it as he had wished to. Of course, Dean would wish to do this himself, Castiel was very much aware of that fact as it weighed down on his conscience, but the angel chose to believe that Dean would understand that this had been necessary later on.

Or at least Castiel hoped that would be the case.

“He said _them_ ,” Sam pointed out, probably because the angel had grown silent for too long, “That they would not harm _them_. What the hell does that mean, Cas? Was he talking about the Mark too?”

Letting out a resigned breath, Castiel shook his head. Of course that would be the only conclusion Sam would draw from those words, it was only rational. “No,” he replied lowly, “I know you…” Changing his mind about what he had been about to say, he let his voice trail off as he allowed his eyes roam over the room around them for a third time, but of course nothing about the scene had changed since the last time he’d done it—the mess by their feet and on the shelves, the dead man behind the checkout counter that he could see through the mirror on the wall—all of it spelled out a clear message to Castiel, so instead of continuing, of saying anything Sam was asking him to, he shook his head again. “We should get out of here.”

“Cas—”

“I will tell you the truth, Sam. But not now, not here.”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue. It was only fair, with just how frustrated and annoyed he must feel about still not knowing what kind of danger Dean really was in at the moment, but much to Castiel’s relief the hunter’s shoulders sagged in defeat a moment later, eyes dancing over the wrecked store very similarly to how the angel had done only a beat earlier as he sighed resignedly.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded tightly, looking unhappy about doing it, jaw clenching and movements a bit strained, but it was a relief to realize that he understood Castiel’s reasons. “Let’s get out of here before someone walks in.” He paused, like just then something had occurred to him, and he shook his head as he turned it to look back at the angel, eyes suddenly even more worried. “We can’t go back. They might follow us.”

Castiel nodded, because that was indeed possible. The Stynes might still be around somewhere and would certainly follow them given the chance, and it would be very reckless for them to lead them straight towards Charlie and the Book of the Damned.

But that created a problem. If Castiel was truly going to tell them the truth about Dean’s pregnancy, then he wanted to tell them both at the same time. It seemed only logical, as it would buy them time, and it would be easier, anyway. Also, they should have her with them regardless, because they would need as much help as they could get to rescue Dean. But Charlie was back at the cabin with no way to drive to them, as both cars were here with them. To meet up with her, they would have to go back to the cabin, but if they did then the Stynes—

“There is a way for us to return without the Stynes following us.” Castiel immediately did not like the idea, knew it was dangerous as soon as it crossed his head. It was risky and it would take a lot of power from him, a lot more than he would be happy to spend at this time, under their current circumstances. It would be truly imprudent, but what other choice did they have here? No matter what they planned to do, they needed to surprise the Stynes, as they would not simply hand the Book of the Damned over, and they would not be able to do that if they were being followed; if every word they spoke might be overheard.

Also, time was running out and they could not waste it. Dean and the baby’s lives were on the line and Castiel would not risk it any more.

Sam frowned at him, “How?”

Castiel simply shook his head, “You’ll see.”

The human frowned, pausing as he seemed to consider those words, eyeing the angel for a moment before finally he nodded, fortunately choosing not to question it further. “Okay, let’s go then.”

With a silent nod, Castiel agreed, before following the hunter toward the doors of the store once Sam had picked up the paper that contained the phone number Jacob had given them, in case the need to use it presented itself, even if they were not planning on actually making a trade. They hadn't yet voiced that fact in fear of being overheard, at least in Castiel's case, but he knew without a doubt that Sam must agree with him on that. It was obvious enough, anyway.

And Castiel was sure even the Stynes did not actually plan to trade anything either, if they actually knew Dean was carrying a nephilim. He knew the fact that nephilims were one of the rarest species on Earth made them extremely valuable, especially as they were included in quite a few very powerful spells, and of course the Stynes had to be aware of that. Their child was supposedly the only nephilim in existence on the planet, and Castiel doubted someone as power-hungry as that family would simply hand Dean back over to them so easily.

Those thoughts set such a powerful feeling of dread in Castiel’s stomach that he actually felt nauseous, but he had to push it all away for now and focus on what they would be doing next, forcing his mind to think coherently and reminding himself that Dean was fine for now, as now that he had calmed down slightly the angel was sure he would be able to feel otherwise, even cut off as he was. They would manage to get to Dean before something could happen to him or the baby, no matter what he had to do.

But right now, Castiel knew he had a more immediate issue to focus on, as another matter was currently plaguing his mind and he knew that one had to be dealt with first, before anything else could be done to save Dean. A strong spark of nervousness was quickly starting to make itself known in his chest as his mind insistently reminded him of what he was about to do, and he could not push it away. This had not been the way he’d planned for Sam and Charlie to find out about the baby, and he dreaded what would happen next, but again he reminded himself that there was nothing else could he do. This was necessary, he repeated to himself in his head like a mantra. It would help keep Dean and the baby safe, and right now, that was truly all that mattered.

Again, he could only hope Dean would understand.

They flipped the closed sign on the door and turned off the lights of the store as they left it, and Castiel used a bit of his Grace to lock the door from the outside, hoping that would be enough to keep people from entering it for at least a few hours, as they did not have the keys to the Impala and in Sam’s words, Dean would kill him if he hot-wired her, so Dean’s car would have to stay here, right outside what he knew had to be considered a crime scene.

They entered the Lincoln without a word, and quickly Sam did as Castiel requested, taking the offered key from the angel and starting up the engine. And then he waited, staring at the seraph in expectation, waiting for Castiel to do whatever he had in mind so that the Stynes would not be able to follow them.

Castiel took in a breath at that, silently apologizing to both Dean and the baby and hating that he had to do this, but once more he told himself that it was necessary. So as he kept that thought in the forefront of his mind, as he reminded himself of that fact as many times as he needed to, he rested both hands on the car's dashboard right before him, before carefully guiding his Grace to pour onto it, feeling it spread through his insides and stretch, tendrils moving out of his vessel as he requested.

It hurt. Like he was trying to peel off his own skin, it hurt to pull at his power and drape it over the vehicle and the two beings inside of it, so much he actually let out a pained sound, a low hiss that he found himself unable to conceal, but he simply gritted his teeth together and kept going, not allowing the screams coming from his Grace to be enough to stop him.

His heart was pounding inside his ribcage way too soon and his breathing was coming out short, but somehow he managed to disguise all of that as he spoke. “Drive. We’re cloaked—no one can see us or touch us.”

“Cas, I don’t think this is—”

“Drive, Sam!”

Castiel did not look at the human as he said it, and yet immediately the angel knew the hunter wanted to argue in the brief silence that followed. Fortunately, however, he didn’t, and quickly Sam backed up the car, slowly sliding it out of its parking spot, before gearing the vehicle into drive and speeding away from the store while Cas silently hoped that he could keep the cloak up until they were out of the town boundaries and close enough to the cabin so that the Stynes would not be able to follow them, but he knew he would have to drop it earlier than he wished to if it became too much for him or in any way possibly harmful to Dean and the baby.

Years ago, doing something like this would have taken nothing from his power. It had been as easy as breathing to him, an action as effortless as draping an actual cloth over the car would have been.

It was a scary thought.

Fortunately it was only when they were entering the dirt road that led to the cabin that Castiel felt he could no longer hold the cloaking without it being dangerous to Dean and the nephilim, and only then did he let it go. He fell back against the seat as he released his grip on his Grace, feeling it retract into his vessel with a wail of relief. He was coughing and wheezing, and he kept his eyes closed as he tried to calm down his breathing; to make it somewhat steady and less frantic, at least. His heart hurt as it beat against his ribcage in an erratic, desperate rhythm, but he knew there was nothing he could do about that.

“Cas, what the hell?” Sam let out from the driver’s seat, and finally the angel looked up at him, finding the hunter staring at him with wide eyes, frantic and worried as he took in the angel’s state. “Should you really have done that?”

“No,” Castiel replied, “But what other choice did we have? The Stynes would have followed us everywhere we went from there, and we need the element of surprise against them now. Anywhere we went in that town, they could be listening, watching every move we planned so that they could be one step ahead. We couldn’t take the risk.”

Sam shook his head at him, looking like he wanted to argue, even opening his mouth to most likely do so for a moment, but thankfully he didn’t, instead letting out a breath as he focused his eyes back on the road and closed his mouth shut without saying a single word in response, as unhappy as he seemed to be with doing so.

The pain that settled in Castiel’s chest then was insistent, even as at last both his heart and breathing calmed, a weird tightness spreading over his heart as his head began to pound in time with every beat, and he was pretty sure neither of those would go away any time soon, but he did his best to ignore all of it. He lifted his hand and found that his nose was bleeding, but only a little, so he turned his head toward the window and wiped at the skin with his hand as best and subtly as he could as he tried to clean it away, and fortunately it stopped quickly enough so that Sam did not seem to notice it.

The drive felt too long and bumpy, and the silence inside the car was heavy, loaded and tense, but Castiel could not find the will to break it. His worry was too intense and painful, thoughts muddled and incoherent, and the closer they got to the cabin, the more nervous he grew as he tried to plan how exactly he would be telling Sam and Charlie about the baby; as he attempted to predict the conversation inside his head, play it out as if somehow he would be able to guess the script it would follow, practice the words in his mind hoping it would help him figure out the correct way to do this, but nothing sounded right to him, as he had no idea how either Sam or Charlie would even react.

Eventually he gave up, realizing it was pointless to try and plan something as unpredictable as this, and he chose to simply focus on the bond instead, trying to tug at it, to figure out which direction the weak buzzing was coming from, to make it respond to him even in the slightest way, but it slipped from his grasp every time he reached out, like he was attempting to grasp a flat, slippery wall in his hand. He couldn’t quite get a grip on it, and he grew more frustrated every single time he tried.

Still, even if he knew Dean could most likely not hear him, he still felt the need to try and reassure the human somehow.

_We’re coming, Dean. You’ll be safe, both of you. No matter what I do, you’ll be safe. I promise._

Castiel wished with everything he had in him that he would be able to keep that promise, as unlikely as it seemed to be right now.

***~*~*~*~***

Sam was getting more worried by the minute, and the drive back to the cabin took a true eternity to end. The breath that escaped him when finally they got there was immense and made his chest feel quite a few pounds lighter.

He knew Cas had pushed himself too much to cloak them, and while he understood how it had been necessary if they wanted to at least have even a small chance of surprising the Stynes in any way to rescue Dean, that didn’t mean Sam was happy with it, or that watching the angel wheeze and cough all the way back to the cabin hadn’t made a weight settle over his heart, squeezing more and more tightly with every glance he sent over at the angel, because this was clearly hurting him and that meant it could be hurting Dean was well.

At least Cas did stop coughing at some point, and although the angel's skin seemed to have grown several shades paler, he did look a little better once the ride was over, and Sam supposed that was all he could have hoped for right now. It didn’t by any means soothe his worried mind, but at least it was something.

And as that happened, as finally Cas seemed to recover (even if only minimally) from whatever he’d done to cloak them, Sam started to notice something else.

Cas was anxious, constantly shifting his weight on his seat, like he couldn’t quite sit still, which was truly a very odd sight to see. Sam had actually noticed it since they’d left the convenience store, but that nervous behavior seemed to get even worse the closer they got to the cabin. The hour it took for them to make the trip seemed to have worked the angel into such a clear state of unrest that Sam didn’t really know how to deal with it, because, well, it was _Cas_ , so the fact that the angel was acting off and nervous at all was already something very worrying, and it spoke volumes about the secret he and Dean were keeping, so it was only rational that Sam would be confused and hesitant about how to proceed.

Charlie looked very worried as soon as they entered the cabin, especially because Dean was not with them, springing up from her seat on the couch and rushing up to them, a thousand questions firing from her tongue before they were even fully inside. Sam decided not to push Cas to talk right away then, instead choosing to be the one to fill Charlie in on the whole Stynes situation before anything else. Fortunately Charlie calmed down soon enough, and so she proceeded to hear Sam’s retelling of what had happened once they’d gotten to the store, hanging on to every word and looking more and more worried with every word that left Sam’s mouth. Cas, on the other hand, did not say a single word throughout the whole story, instead choosing to simply linger silently on his seat on the couch as the two humans talked.

“What’s the plan, then? I mean, we're not giving them the Book, right?” Charlie asked, eyeing flitting back and forth between Sam and Cas, even if the angel had to yet direct a word to her. Sam wasn’t sure how she was reading his silence, but he assumed she might be simply shrugging it off as worry for Dean, which was certainly part of it, anyway.

It wasn’t all, though, and now was finally the time for them to figure out why.

Sam shook his head at her, "No, we're not. We..." He turned his head to look over at the angel, finding that he still wasn’t watching them at all, as if he hadn’t even heard anything they’d just discussed. His eyes were fixated on the wall before him, as they had been for the past hour or so. It was almost like Cas wasn’t really there; like he’d left his vessel without warning them and all that had been left behind was a stoic, emotionless empty shell.

Sam swallowed at the sight, a sigh escaping him before he finally managed to let out a weak, tentative, "Cas..."

Cas didn’t move at all at the sound of his name, but he did respond, so at least that was something. “The plan is to find the Stynes, go in and get Dean away from them and this town as fast as we can.”

Sam was a little surprised with the answer, with how unlike Cas those words sounded, and at first he wasn’t even sure how to respond, so Charlie was the one to point out, “Cas, we can’t just barge in there. That would be freaking suicide. And I mean, we don't even know where they took Dean. We have to think about this.”

Cas didn’t look convinced at all, but then again, he still wasn’t even looking at them, so Sam couldn’t see his face fully to know for sure. He didn’t say anything, though, and silence fell over the room once more, as if it hadn’t been broken at all.

The angel’s behavior was a little concerning, Sam had to admit it. He got that the angel was worried, because really, he was too, a lot actually, but Cas was bothering on irrational and it was confusing Sam because that just wasn’t like the angel at all. But then again, Sam didn’t know the whole story; he didn’t know just what kind of risks were playing a part in all of this, so maybe he should be having a similar reaction once he knew everything. That train of thought only reminded him of how Cas still hadn’t opened up, but the angel seemed way too stressed out for Sam to push him too much and demand answers right now.

But he could still probe kindly, because they had to talk about this. This secrecy had to end. He tried to be as gentle and calm as possible as he let out, “Cas… I think we need to talk.”

Finally Cas turned his head to look at them, and the expression on his face, the clear hesitancy in his eyes, the actual freaking _nervousness_ that was clearly emanating from the angel right then, told Sam everything he needed to know about how much of a big deal this actually was, and it only made the human even more worried.

He almost felt guilty for making the angel talk; to be all but demanding the truth like this. But at least Cas knew he didn’t have a choice on the matter, that he would have to open up to them now whether he wanted or not, even if clearly he didn’t. For a second Sam almost wished he could give him a choice. Dean still hadn’t told him about whatever this was, and that meant his brother didn’t want him to know just yet.

But he couldn’t do that; he couldn’t wait. Going in blind into the rescue mission that would sure to follow could very easily cost Dean his life if both he and Charlie didn’t know all the variables that could make everything go wrong, and Sam wasn’t willing to take that risk, as unhappy as both Dean and Cas seemed to be about sharing their secret.

After a beat Cas was still silent, still obviously struggling with actually letting out any words, and the sight of it made the guilt swirling around in Sam's chest even heavier.

But again, Sam and Charlie had to know.

“Cas, whatever it is that you two are hiding, whatever you don’t wanna tells us…” Sam let out a breath as Cas looked away from him once more, but he didn’t let that stop him. He just shook his head, still doing everything he could to keep his voice calm and steady, though a hint of urgency still bled through, “You know we have to know. Dean’s life is in danger, so we can’t just stay in the dark anymore. We can’t go into this blind, and you know that.”

Cas still wasn’t looking at him.

Letting out another breath, Sam looked over to his side, finding Charlie watching Cas with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out what was going through the angel’s heard right then just by staring at him, trying to read him through body language alone. She seemed to sense Sam’s gaze soon enough, as she quickly turned her head to exchange a brief look with him. Her eyes were curious and confused, but she remained silent, leaving Sam to deal with this for now.

“Cas, please,” Sam tried again, before letting the silence linger inside the room once more.

Cas was quiet for a long moment, and while the pause bothered Sam a lot, he let silence linger, deciding he had already pushed enough for now. The angel’s body was stiff again, gaze far away and almost distracted, the frown in his brows so intense it was actually almost possible to see the metaphorical cogwheels spinning inside the angel’s head right then. Sam had no idea how to read his silence, though, and he could only hope that Cas hadn’t changed his mind about opening up, that the pause didn’t mean that he was reconsidering what he would do next, trying to figure out a way around this without telling them the truth.

It was a long time, probably over a minute, until the angel’s entire body sagged without a warning. His shoulders fell as a heavy breath escaped him, and Sam could already feel relief flooding him even before Cas opened his mouth to say anything, because judging by the seraph's sudden stance change, by the clear resignation in his features, Sam assumed the angel hadn’t changed his mind and would actually be opening up to them.

“Dean is…” Cas paused, shaking his head subtly as he finally looked up and at the pair again, and when he did his eyes looked almost sad, pained even, and once more Sam  was hit with the realization of just how much of a big deal keeping this from them seemed to be. This had to be something incredibly huge, and he was just now realizing how much.

That only made him want to know what it was even more, but he knew he should not feel that way, because this wasn’t a good way to do this, for all of them. Neither Dean nor Cas wanted to tell them like this. But then again, they didn’t have a choice, and he kept reminding himself of that fact every time he glanced into Cas’ eyes, every time he felt the guilt stabbing at his heart for making Cas do this when clearly neither he nor Dean wanted to.

Because there was something that made the Stynes having Dean even more dangerous and Sam needed to know what that was.

Fortunately Cas seemed to finally have accepted that.

“Before I say anything, I need you both to know that Dean was planning to tell you once we got here. He didn’t plan to keep this a secret from you for so long, especially not you, Sam. But before he could do it came Cain and Rowena, and now the Stynes and the Book, so there was never a good opportunity for it. But he did plan to tell you soon.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded lightly, already feeling a little anxious, expectation spreading all over his body, right down to his fingertips. Finally he would know what those two were keeping from him, and the anticipation that thought brought to him was already quickly building up in his gut. He shifted a little on his feet, but hoped Cas didn’t notice it.

Cas let out a breath, looking down at the amulet Sam hadn’t realized he had still been holding until now. His grip on it was oddly firm, and by the looks of it, Sam was pretty sure he wouldn’t be willing to let go of it so soon. He had fixed the ripped chord by now, as clearly he had the intention to have Dean put it back on once they got to him. “This amulet is indeed for protection, but I’m afraid not the kind you might have assumed. It’s… a cloaking amulet.”

“Cloaking?” Sam frowned, “You were trying to hide Dean with that?”

Cas nodded slowly, but didn’t elaborate.

“Hide him from whom?” Charlie asked.

Cas hesitated for a beat, closing his fist around the amulet before finally he answered, “Heaven.”

Well, that just didn’t make sense at all, and Sam couldn’t help but frown in confusion at the word, even if the angel wasn’t looking at him right then. Why did Dean need to be hidden from Heaven?

Sam exchanged another look with Charlie, and she looked just as confused as he was feeling.

She was the first one to recover from the surprise. “Why would you need to do that?”

When Cas didn’t immediately respond, Sam took it upon himself to try to get anything else out of the angel, because Heaven being a problem was truly a thing he hadn’t seen coming and he wasn’t sure how to process that. “Cas, I haven’t exactly been hiding from Heaven, so why hide only Dean and not me too? And I mean, we both still have the carvings in our ribs, don't we?" That should be enough to hide both him and Dean from Heaven, shouldn't it? It had been for years, so why did Dean suddenly need something else for that? "This doesn’t make sense. Hell, Hannah even knows where the Bunker is, and she’s the one in charge now, isn’t she?”

The flinch that appeared on Cas’ face was actually confusing, and Sam had no idea what that could possibly mean. Cas had said he trusted Hannah, that she was his friend, so why did it suddenly look like the opposite of that and like Cas might somehow be bothered by the fact that Hannah knew where the Bunker was?

None of this made any sense and Sam was getting more and more confused by the minute.

“The engravings on this amulet are written in very, very ancient Enochian, so it is truly no surprise that you could find no means to translate it, Sam. It’s a dialect used primarily by the archangels. Most seraphs cannot even read these, myself included. I’m… fairly young compared to most angels.”

Well, Sam hadn’t known that, but he chose not to dwell too much on that right now. Not relevant enough at the moment, though he did make a mental note to bring it up later on.

Instead, he chose to focus on the confusion brought on by how Cas had all but completely dodged his question about Hannah, but he didn't comment, instead waiting for the angel to keep talking on his own. Now that Cas had started actually speaking, Sam was almost scared to ask the wrong question and spook him back into silence.

“Amulets like this one were used thousands of years ago to… hide certain things from Heaven. It’s very much like shield around the human wearing it, cloaking them in a way so that Heaven has no means to detect a certain transgression.”

“Transgression?” Okay, yeah, this was starting to sound really bad, and Sam wasn’t happy about it at all. “Cas, what the hell did Dean do?”

Another beat of silence from Cas, and with every second that passed Sam only got more anxious. He wasn’t liking anything he was hearing; a bad feeling was quickly settling in his gut now that he knew Heaven was involved in this because that was surely the last thing they needed right now, but all he could do was wait for Cas to finally freaking open up.

“It’s not exactly…” Cas paused, apparently reconsidering what he had been about to say. Slowly, he shook his head, “Dean’s not the only one Heaven will come after now.”

The words sounded ominous and rang a very bad note in Sam’s ears, but it took him only a moment to realize what that could mean. “Is it because of you two? I mean, because you’re together?” Sam hadn’t even thought about this until now, but honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. Angels were really reclusive creatures with a lot of pointless rules, especially whenever humanity was concerned, so it really wouldn’t be a shock to learn that they were against an angel and a human getting involved and that they might have a problem with Dean and Cas being together.

But Cas _had_ been kicked out of Heaven, hadn’t he? That had been what Dean had told him, anyway. So why should they even care?

The pause that followed gave Sam confirmation that he wasn’t too off on his guess, but Cas’ next words told him otherwise.

“Not exactly. Heaven is against… angels copulating with humans, but all that could happen because of that would be me getting reprimanded. Although at this point, I do not believe Heaven would care too much about that.”

Yeah, okay, Sam never wanted to hear Cas say the verb ‘copulate’ again, especially not when the angel was referring to himself and Sam's brother. Sam could really live happily without that one, thank you very much.

He shook his head, deciding to just let that one slide and let Dean take care of it because, yeah, not a discussion he would ever like to have with Cas. “Then what is it?” he asked instead.

“Is it the soul bond?”

Sam turned his head to give Charlie a surprised look. Once more she was catching up faster than he was, because he hadn’t yet thought about that.

Cas’ hesitancy made Sam assume she was right.

“Partially,” the angel conceded, although he sounded like he was testing out the word on his tongue as he spoke, considering it thoroughly before actually letting it out, “However, that’s not simply it. Heaven would not be able to simply sense something like that.”

“So there’s something else that they _can_ sense,” Charlie concluded, and the angel nodded heavily in response.

“And whatever that is, you were trying to hide it with that necklace, but now Heaven was able to sense it because the Stynes took it off of Dean,” Sam guessed.

Cas nodded yet again, slowly, clearly thinking every single word he was about to say through in the pause that followed. “I heard the angels talking in my head. They’re on their way here, although without functional wings I believe it will take them at least a day to actually manage that.”

“Was that what that crazy migraine you got earlier was about? You were picking up angel radio?” Sam had just assumed Cas had been picking up something from Dean, but now he realized how similar the angel’s reaction to it had been to all the other times he’d heard the angels talking in his head. It had seemed painful and sudden, like a stab right to the brain.

Once more the angel simply nodded in response.

The silence that hung inside the room was heavy, and Sam wanted to break it more than anything. Every cell in his body was screaming at him that if Heaven was truly coming for Dean and Cas, if they were really on the clock here, then Cas should just open up already and tell them the truth so they could work out a plan as fast as they could, but the heavy expression on the angel’s face made the words die in the hunter's throat before they could make it out of his mouth. Cas looked lost, almost defeated, and that made a weight settle in Sam’s chest once more.

Just how bad could this be?

“It also happened in Omaha.”

Okay, Cas was talking again, so that was good. “When you bonded?” Sam inquired, once more feeling afraid to talk and spook Cas somehow, keeping his voice as gentle and low as he could manage.

The angel nodded again. “We didn’t know about it at first, though. The only thing I noticed when I woke up was that I had claimed Dean’s soul, nothing more. My Grace is too weak, so I couldn’t… I couldn’t sense it back then.” There was something heavy in the angel’s voice, such a clear note of guilt in his tone that Sam was rendered completely quiet. “So I left, while Dean was still unconscious. All that I could think of was that I would be putting Dean’s life at risk and making the Mark even worse if the soul bond remained, so I knew I had to try to break it before the damage was done.”

“So you just cut Dean off,” Sam stated, remembering the whole freaking month Cas had been nowhere to be found. They had tried to reach him countless times, but no matter what they did, no matter what happened, they just couldn't figure out where Cas even was back then, or why he had simply vanished.

“I thought it would be better if he didn’t know. The spell to break the bond… I knew I would not survive it, not with my Grace so weak, so I decided it would be best to break it before Dean discovered it and tried to stop me.”

“So you knew it would kill you,” Sam breathed out, not even bothering to hide his surprise, “Dean said you tried to break the bond and almost died, but he didn’t mention…”

“I would rather die than be the reason Dean was killed.” The words slipped from Cas’ tongue easily, with no hesitation or doubt, and it was truly painful to hear the certainty he had in them, like there was just no questioning them at all.

“Cas, that’s not how things work,” Sam shook his head at him, disbelief bleeding freely into his voice. He couldn't have Cas thinking like that, especially not now. “When things like that happen, you ask for help. We fix it together, we don’t just…”

“It doesn’t matter now, Sam.” Cas’ voice was almost tired as he said it, worn out, with no fight in it at all. Briefly, Sam wondered if Dean and Cas had had this argument before already, and he guessed they must have. Certainly Dean wouldn't have let this one go easily. “Dean found me in time and I lived through it. The bond, however, also remained, and we decided to try and break it again if the situation with my Grace and the Mark became too much.”

Sam frowned, confused. “Dean said you dropped the idea completely. He didn’t say you were considering breaking the bond at all.”

“We only considered it at first, as we didn’t know… we didn’t know everything back then.” Cas turned to look back at Sam then, and the sight of his eyes was a lot more than the hunter had expected to see. There was so much in them, so many layers of emotion that Sam had no idea how to even process them all. He had no idea where to even begin trying. “We only dropped the idea after Gabriel showed up in Absarokee and actually told us… what I should have realized on my own, but again, my Grace is too weak for that. We cannot possibly break the soul bond, not without…”

The sound that escaped Cas right then was a surprise. It was a breath, but it sounded almost choked, voice dying in his throat as the angel apparently gave up on whatever he had been about to say and instead settled for simply shaking his head, as if feeling the need to actually chase away whatever thought pained him so much, push it right out of his head somehow.

So this had to do with why Dean seemed to intent on not breaking the soul bond, then. It wasn’t just because Cas’ life was on the line. Dean had always used that argument, even when Sam just mentioned looking for a different way to break the bond that wouldn’t risk their lives, for a spell that wouldn’t be too much for Cas to handle. Sam had always found Dean’s reaction a little irrational, because his brother had to know that the bond might end up killing them both at some point, but now Sam realized there had been more to it than just what he’d been told so far.

But what exactly was that? Cas was beating around the bush with this and Sam was already growing anxious, because this whole thing sounded worse with every new piece of information he was given, and yet he still had absolutely no idea what this secret could possibly be, so he decided it was time to push again. If Heaven was really on their way here right now, they had to get this over with fast.

“Cas—”

“Dean’s pregnant.”

Sam paused, swallowing the words that had been about to leave his mouth and pressing his lips shut in surprise, voice dying in his throat. All he could do was stare at the angel, trying and failing to get his mind to work. Cas’ words weren’t quite registering in his head, like when you think too much about a word and suddenly it doesn't even seem like a real thing anymore, completely devoid of meaning and nothing more than just a bunch of letters put together in a weird order that carried no sense at all. That was the response Sam was getting from him mind then—a blank card.

“What?” was all he managed to let out, shaking his head a little but not managing to say anything else.

“Dean is pregnant. He's carrying a nephilim.”

“A nephilim,” Sam breathed out, but the words might as well have fallen onto deaf ears as he heard his own voice. The term was familiar, of course, just as was the meaning of it. Of course Sam knew what a nephilim was—the hybrid spawn of a human and an angel—but obviously he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what he was hearing, couldn’t connect that information to their current situation. He couldn’t even… “Cas, you’re not making sense.”

The look in Cas’ eyes was sad, heavy, and Sam would have been intrigued if there wasn’t something else using up all his focus and weighing down in his mind right then. His thoughts had come to a complete halt all of a sudden and he couldn’t even try to process anything else.

“I’m sure you’ve read about the Nephilim before, Sam,” Cas’ voice was calm, controlled. It sounded wrong. Part of Sam was waiting for the moment when the angel would stop this and say that this was a joke.

But his mind was also screaming at him that Cas wouldn’t do that, especially not in a situation like this.

He was…

He was actually _serious._

“The ancient Enochian in this amulet is meant to hide a nephilim from Heaven, cloak its energy from the Host, as nephilims are considered aberrations that should not exist. And the moment this was ripped from Dean’s neck…”

Shaking his head again, Sam found his hand running through his hair and then moving down to rub his growing beard as if that would help clear up his thoughts; as if somehow that might help his mind to actually process this.

“You’re trying to tell me that…” He couldn’t even say it, and he swallowed a few times before he actually managed to force any more words out of his mouth, “Cas, you’re actually saying that my _brother_ …”

“Physical gender does not matter when angelic Grace is involved,” Cas replied, as if he’d been reading Sam’s mind somehow, “With our souls bound to each other’s, Dean’s body has access to my power, and that way it can adapt as needed. The only restriction is that the human has to be the one to carry. Both males and females can bear a nephilim.”

It made sense. Their life was so fucking insane that it did, of course it did, but Sam just couldn’t actually freaking process it just yet.

_“We won’t harm either of them.”_

That also made sense now, it did, it _actually fucking did,_ but Sam just couldn’t…

"That's why he didn't... _O_ _f course,"_ Charlie breathed out, and Sam’s head turned to give her a surprised look. She looked spooked, confused, but it seemed like she had come to terms with this much quicker than Sam could even hope to. “Is that why Dean’s been throwing up so much, too?”

And she had a point—Dean had been getting sick a lot, but Sam had been writing it off as the Mark. Not…

Well, not _this._

Cas nodded. “His morning sickness was quite insistent, but it’s lessened quite reasonably now.”

Morning sickness.

“You’re serious,” Sam breathed out, letting his hand move through his hair again, and the angel’s eyes fixated on his face once more. They were unwavering, gaze strong and certain, not even a single hint of doubt. “You’re _actually_ serious.”

“I am,” was Cas’ response, plain and steady, words firm and unquestionable.

Another breath escaped Sam’s lips, and he tossed his hair around a bit more.

“Dean’s…” He swallowed, feeling his throat weirdly try, his tongue oddly heavy and unresponsive. But he had to say it, because somehow that felt like the only way to make his mind actually accept this, or to at least begin to process it at all.

Shaking his head, Sam forced the words out of his mouth.

“Dean’s pregnant.”

Just as the first time he’d heard Cas say it, the words sounded void, incoherent, empty as they left his lips.

Beside him, Sam heard Charlie let out a breath, a shaky puff of air, like suddenly all the air had been punched right out of her, like just then the weight of those words had actually registered in her head.

And even as unbelievable as those words were, a part of Sam's mind had apparently decided to make sure he knew that when he really thought about it, it made sense. It actually made all the freaking sense in the world. These last few months had been filled with hints, with pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together—Dean’s sickness and weird appetite, Dean and Cas’ inexplicable reluctance to break the bond, the secrecy and subtle hints from both Crowley and Gabriel, the amulet, how Dean _wasn't even drinking,_ or how Dean hadn’t wanted to…

Sam froze, eyes widening as he breathed out, “Dean said he couldn’t hunt.” His brother hadn’t given an explanation and Sam had assumed he didn’t want to take the risk of losing himself to the Mark. But that hadn’t been the reason, had it? “I made him, I… I dragged him on a _hunt.”_ Now Cas’ reaction made sense, too; the angel had looked very close to truly livid when he’d learned about the case in Spencer, even though Sam just hadn't really understood what the big deal about it had been. Also, Dean had been quite freaked out after they'd finished the job, so what had that been about?

“You didn’t know." The angel’s tone was a surprise—low and calm, not even a single hint of blame in his words. It was almost like he was trying to soothe Sam, which only confused the hunter.

“Cas, if what you’re saying is true, then I—”

“You took Dean on a hunt without knowing the actual risks involved,” Cas finished for him, voice firm and final, and Sam fell quiet at the sound. “You are not to take blame for anything concerning that hunt. Dean should not have gone because he was aware of the risks. You had no idea.”

Sam swallowed, not finding any words to respond with at first, but before he could even try to say anything, he was actually surprised to see the angel’s expression shift, changing into something heavier, a hint of something very close to guilt melting into his eyes without a warning.

“I left him,” Cas’ voice was pained, words strained, weak as a whisper, “In Omaha. I left Dean while he was still unconscious, completely vulnerable and pregnant. He could have died because of that, because of the Mark’s reaction to both the soul bond and the nephilim. And if that wasn’t enough, I—”

The sound that escaped the angel’s throat was a surprise yet again, even if it was actually the second time Sam was hearing during this conversation. His voice died down abruptly, like it had gotten caught in his throat, coming out as nothing more than a choked, meaningless syllable.

The expression on the angel’s face reminded Sam of the night after Ohio, when Cas had been holding Dean on the bed back at the Bunker, trying to get into his brother's head for the first time after the whole thing with Cain and quickly realizing that he could not make Dean wake up, and the similarity between both scenes made Sam’s chest hurt, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what had caused it right now; what was paining the angel so much to bring that truly devastating look back into his features.

It took Cas a beat to manage to let out a low, “I tried to break the bond in Montana.”

Sam swallowed, frowning for a moment as he processed those words, because he was aware of that already; they had just talked about this, in fact, just a couple of minutes ago. He paused, staring blankly at Cas for a beat, until suddenly it all made sense as yet another puzzle piece fell into place in his head. “The bond, it… it has to stay, doesn’t it? I mean, because of…”

“During gestation, a nephilim needs a direct connection to both parents' essences, meaning Dean's soul and my Grace. If the bond is severed, the baby dies.”

Sam wasn’t sure what was it about those words that punched all the air right out of his lungs; all he knew was that it happened and he had no chance to stop it.

The word _baby_ rang inside his head way too many times, making it spin around a little. He felt truly dizzy now, and he had no idea how to make it stop. He shook his head lightly, struggling to regain his grip on his own mind for a moment before he was finally able to let out a weak, “So that’s why…” He found he couldn’t form the words. He felt terrible, guilt swelling inside his chest, because he’d been insisting on breaking the bond with Dean for months now. He had been researching ways to do it, too.

He’d been trying to find a way to kill his own freaking nephew or niece without even knowing about it.

“Dean hadn’t been drinking,” The sound of Cas’ voice brought Sam back from the dark place he’d fallen into in his mind, and he forced himself to concentrate on that right now, “Even before we knew, because of your advice, that he should try to be more healthy to try and fight the Mark. And yet in Montana, before we knew about the baby, he went to a bar with the intention to drink. He even got as far as ordering, and he would have consumed alcohol if Gabriel hadn’t stepped in.”

“The yogurt thing,” Sam guessed, “Dean told me about that.” It seemed they owed Gabriel a lot more than what he had thought.

“We’ve all made mistakes because we didn’t know, Sam, and we can’t change that now. All that truly matters is that even with the Mark, even with my Grace burning out, the baby is still completely healthy.”

And that was truly a miracle; Sam realized as much right then. _Everything_ was working against them, and he hadn’t realized until now just how badly. With the Mark and Cas' Grace, it really was a wonder how they’d even gotten this far; how the nephilim was even _alive_ right now.

“Why is Heaven coming?” Charlie asked, and Sam jumped a little at the sound of her voice. The hesitation in her tone made it clear she already had an idea of what the answer to that question would be, just as Sam did, but still needed to hear it out loud. "What's the punishment for... for making a nephilim?"

If possible, the look in Cas’ eyes got even heavier. “Creating a nephilim is one of the biggest offences an angel can make against the Host. They’ll kill the three of us if they find us.”

The words were expected, not a surprise at all, and yet each one of them still felt like a stab right to the heart.

There were so many questions piling up in Sam’s mind right then that he could barely register them all—about the Mark, about Cas’ Grace, about the bond, about Heaven, Gabriel, Crowley, about _everything._ He didn’t even know what the fact that the baby was a nephilim truly meant, or why they were forbidden; why Heaven would want to kill Dean, Cas and the nephilim. He still hadn't even really  _processed_ this.

But they didn’t have the time for that conversation now.

“We need a plan, now,” Sam breathed out, finally understanding why Cas had been so panicked before. The Stynes weren’t their only worry right now. If Heaven was really coming to kill them, then they had to be quick about this and get out of this town as fast as possible, just as Cas had pointed out earlier. They had to put that necklace back around Dean’s neck and make a run for it before the angels could find them.

“We can’t give them the Book, but we can’t just barge in there either,” Charlie pointed out. “We need a surprise element, something to catch them off guard. Maybe we can call Gabriel?”

Cas shook his head, “They’ve cloaked Dean completely, to any angel, including me. And wherever they are, I doubt they would not ward the place against angels as well, so we will probably not be able to go in. Gabriel would be useless, just as I am right now.”

Sam wanted to argue about that, because the way Cas was talking made it seem like he was referring to way more than just him not being able to find Dean right now, guilt and blame obvious in every word, and the hunter wasn't sure what that was about. But this wasn’t the time for a discussion of that sort, so he let it go for now.

He chose to focus on the only fact they had to work with right now, which wasn’t exactly thrilling or helpful at all. They had no way to track Dean—Cas couldn’t feel him at all, but at least that also meant that Heaven couldn’t find him, right? Regardless, they needed to come up with something fast; something that didn’t involve Cas or Gabriel attempting to find Dean. They had the element of surprise on their side, at least, but still, they had no way to—

Surprise element, huh?

“I think I might have an idea.”

***~*~*~*~***

His head hurt.

Groaning, Dean tried to lift it, to open his eyes, but his entire body felt heavy and his head felt like it had been split open in half with a fucking sledgehammer. He hissed at the pain, flinching as his head actually throbbed in time with the beating of his heart, and it was only after he took in a few deep breaths to steady himself that at last he managed to force his eyes open.

He had no idea where he was. It was an office, it seemed, and he was tied to the chair, handcuffs covered in what appeared to be Enochian symbols chaining his wrists to the wooden armrests at his sides. His ankles were firmly tied to the chair legs, so he definitely couldn't move. The curtains on the window to the side were closed, so he had no way to know the time of the day or if he was on ground level, but there was a bit of light peeking out from under it so he assumed it was daytime still. He would need to check that window to see if it could be a possible escape route or if he would have to use the door behind him. There was even a fireplace to the side, and everything around him looked fancy, expensive. He pursed his lips at all of it.

Where the fuck had the Stynes taken him?

He couldn’t get free, as much as he tried. He felt weak, way too weak, and he instantly knew they had done something to him, or maybe it was those damn handcuffs that were doing it, but he wasn't even sure if they were really doing anything. His head felt heavy and his mind was muddled, body feeling way too numb and unresponsive, which couldn't be happening just because he had gotten hit in the head. Cold, potent panic washed over him as he wondered if those psychos would actually drug him.

 _Cas?_ He tried reaching out through the bond, even though it felt completely numb still, as if the angel was still sleeping, or maybe it was the distance that was doing it.

Somehow he knew neither of those was the case.

_Cas, can you hear me?_

He got no answer, absolutely nothing, just like when Rowena had knocked Cas out and blocked him out with that spell.

Fuck, this was bad.

And to make it all even worse, Dean got even more anxious once he looked down and realized that he wasn’t wearing the necklace, and instantly the dread he had felt when the amulet had been first torn from his neck back at that convenience store came back with full force, because _fuck_ , that meant Heaven knew, didn’t it? He was pretty sure he was way past the window in which the angels couldn’t feel the nephilim.

Did that mean the angels were on their way here to kill him and his baby right now? Probably, he realized, and here he fucking was, tied to a fucking chair, completely vulnerable.

He had to get out of here, _now._

He spent the next hour or so trying to break out of those damn handcuffs, as there was no one around to stop him, but of course he didn’t manage it. The Enochian in the things must really be doing something to him, he realized, because he should be strong enough to break them normally, with both the Mark and the bond. But the Enochian seemed to be making them pretty much unbreakable to him just as they would to an angel, which was definitely not a reassuring thought, because that meant he would simply not be able to get out of here by himself while he had them on.

He must really be considered at least part angel, then, huh? Well, either that or the Enochian was working on him because of the nephilim in his womb, but he had a feeling that wasn't actually it. And if it was already like this, if already he couldn't even be considered fully human anymore when Cas' Grace was so weak and not even his own, just how much more would change once Cas had his actual Grace? Dean remembered the comment Cas had made about the wings, which still had him a little freaked out, but he was quick to push those thoughts away for the time being, because this really wasn't the time. Later, he decided.

Every minute that passed with him failing to free himself only made his heart beat faster inside his chest, part of him just expecting the moment when a brigade of angels would march through that door to kill him. Dean was a little surprised the Stynes didn’t seem to be worried enough about that possibility to have put the necklace back on him, and they knew what it was used for, Dean was pretty sure of that.

So where the hell had they put the necklace? How the hell was Dean supposed to take it back and flee?

He had no fucking idea.

It was a long time until someone actually came to talk to him, and it was the same man from the store—the one who had seemed to be the leader of the group that had jumped him earlier and probably brought him here.

The man entered the room silently, walking across it and going to sit down, taking the seat behind the desk and across from Dean without as much as a glance toward the hunter, as if this was some sort of business meeting that he didn’t particularly care much about. It was only once he was seated that he allowed his eyes to meet Dean’s, resting his elbows on the desk before him, leaning forward a little, hands joined over the wooden top.

“Dean, isn’t it?”

He sounded like he couldn’t care less about that either, which was probably the case.

It did bother Dean that the man knew his name, though, because he sure as hell hadn’t given it to him.

Dean just glared at him as best as he could, even if his head still felt a little heavy and weird, thoughts still a bit foggy. Maybe they had really given him something, because he was pretty sure warded handcuffs weren’t enough to do that, and the thought made his stomach sink to his feet, dread pooling into his insides like a powerful wave. What if they really had drugged him? What if it hurt the baby?

“Silent treatment, I see.” The man looked truly amused, not annoyed at all. He hadn’t expected another reaction from Dean, it seemed. “I’m Jacob, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Where am I?” Dean growled out, hating how much weaker than he’d intended his voice sounded. His throat was scratchy and dry, and you could hear it way too clearly in his voice just how much speaking at all hurt with the way his voice broke more than once. He hated it. That wasn't enough to stop him, though. “And what the hell did you do to me?”

“Well, our current location is none of your concern. Don’t worry, though, you’re not far from your friends. We’re only a few miles out of Branson. It would not be prudent to take you too far away from the angel, but we also did not wish to keep you too close, as I believe you might understand. But that’s not really important. You’re not getting out of here any time soon. At least not until I get what I want.”

Well, at least they hadn’t taken him too far, then.

Dean swallowed drily at the implication of those words, but he said nothing in response. Everything pointed to the Stynes really knowing that he was pregnant, but just because they hadn't yet said the word nephilim out loud, just because there was still the tiniest sliver of chance that they had gotten it all wrong, he wasn’t going to confirm it.

“As for the numbness I assume you’re feeling right now, since you would most likely heal too quickly from a head wound, we had to keep you sedated for a few hours.”

Sedated. The word rang loudly in his ears, and Dean felt his stomach sink once more, nausea immediately coiling in his gut. He swallowed again, but of course the feeling didn't go away. So they _had_ given him something, then.

His arm twitched, an unconscious reflex to move his hand to cover his stomach protectively, and for once he was glad he was handcuffed to that stupid chair.

“Don’t worry, it was nothing harmful. I assure you.”

The spark in the guy’s eyes was hard to ignore and full of hidden meaning, which left Dean with very little doubt that the man knew exactly what the hunter was thinking right then, what he'd just tried to do without even thinking, and Dean swallowed drily once more.

“What the hell do you want with me?” he asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of what the answer to that question would turn out to be. He just wanted to hear the exact plan this psycho had in mind, and maybe get him talking so he would spill something, even though it seemed unlikely, with how much the Styne was carefully thinking every single answer through.

Jacob looked amused again, and he actually considered Dean for a brief moment, as if he was just now thinking about this. “I’m not sure,” he finally said, voice annoyingly calm, words rolling off his tongue slowly, almost lazily, “It will depend on how long your friends take to give me what I want. They've already burned through three hours of my time, and my patience is already starting to run a little thin.”

The Book of the Damned, Dean assumed. Of course.

Not all of those words made sense to him, though, and Dean's confusion must have showed pretty clearly on his face.

"They came after you, another man and the angel. Followed your trail right into that convenience store. I told them to call me to negotiate a trade—you for the Book of the Damned."

Well, didn't that sound just awesome. Highly predictable, too, but Dean chose not to point that one out loud. “And if they don’t?” he asked instead, “You can’t kill me, I’m pretty sure you know that already.”

“Yes, I am aware that Mark on your arm gives you a certain resistance, I would say. And while in any other circumstances, a man who cannot die would be perfect for what my family normally does, there is in fact something even more interesting about you than the Mark of Cain.”

Briefly, Dean wondered what the hell the dude was talking about, what his sick family could be involved with now because they had dropped off the map decades ago, although he was certain that he would not like what he would hear if he asked. He chose to remain quiet about it, of course, as the weight of that last sentence settled over his heart, because he was pretty sure he knew exactly what the man was referring to. But again he remained quiet, and it took way more than it should for him to hold the man’s gaze during the pause that followed.

“Now, may I ask, how exactly does a human end up pregnant with an angel’s offspring without your soul getting drained to the last drop of energy?”

Dean didn’t answer.

“You look perfectly healthy, and that’s very much unheard of whenever a nephilim is concerned.” Again, Dean didn’t answer, and Jacob shook his head at him when finally the Styne seemed to realize that yet again he woudn't get a comment. He didn't look annoyed, though.  “Well, I guess I’ll just have to figure it out myself, once we get our hands on the angel.”

That finally got a reaction out of Dean, and he didn’t even think before hissing out, “Don’t you fucking dare go near him.”

The amused look was back, and the man tilted his head to the side, considering Dean in silence again. The Winchester hated it very much, wondering just how many punches to the mouth it would take until all of the guy's perfect, white teeth fell out. Dean guessed not many. “I’m assuming there’s really more to this pregnancy than simply the desire to produce a hybrid, then. The angel seemed very protective of you, and clearly that goes both ways. That’s… fascinating, to say the least.”

The glint in the dude’s eyes sent a chill running down Dean’s spine. He had a very, very bad feeling about all of this.

“Again, I assume we’ll just have to wait and see. Your friends won't be able to track you, but they will try to rescue you, I’m sure of that. And when that happens, when we meet up for the supposed trade that I'm sure they'll turn into a trap to try to kill me and save you, I’ll finally kill that annoying redhead and the other one, along with any other friends they might bring with them. But the angel I’ll keep, trap him so we can have both parents in one place, as I assume you would not be able to carry for too long without the angel nearby. And then I’ll take you two to my family home, far from here. My father is very excited to meet you.”

Oh, wasn’t that great, there were even _more_ of them somewhere else.

Awesome.

“And when the nephilim is ready, well,” He smiled sickly at Dean, and another chill ran through his body, this one a lot stronger, “Do you have any idea of the power you can harness from only the heart of a nephilim? Or from their blood? It doesn’t even need to be born to be useful, either, we can just cut you right open to get it out if we have to once it’s close enough to being born so it’s almost done. If you behave, though, we might actually sedate you so you won’t feel it when you die.”

Dean’s hands squeezed into fists, pulling at the restraints, either to protect his stomach or punch the guy’s face into a bloody pulp, he wasn’t sure, but in the end it didn’t even matter, as of course Dean couldn’t move his arms.

Jacob noticed it and smiled even wider, the glint in his eyes growing sickeningly obvious. “But then again, you wouldn’t truly die, would you? I’m curious to know how you work, Dean. How many times can I tear you apart, cut you down into pieces until there’s no fixing you? How much is enough for that magical Mark on your arm to not bring you back?” He hummed, scratching his jaw as he leaned back in his chair, like he was just casually thinking about all the different ways he could torture Dean; imagining it all in his head like the sick bastard that he was.

He was really, really fucking lucky that Dean hadn’t yet managed to break free from those handcuffs.

“You know, I had never seen an angel before. We only really hear about them. Although that one really wasn't what I was expecting to see.” He smiled again, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “I wonder how durable they really are.”

Now Dean was truly seeing red, and he struggled against the restraints once more, even though he knew it was completely pointless. All he wanted to do right then was strangle the fucking bastard, his hands were actually clenching with the desire for it, begging for something to grab, and the Mark flared up for the first time since he’d woken up to encourage him.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Dean gritted out, “I’ll fucking tear you open with my bare hands and feed you your own insides. Let’s see if you still have that smile on your face by then.”

There was a shift in Jacob’s eyes, even if he did conceal it pretty well. He didn’t have an obvious reaction to those words by any means, but Dean could tell that it had gotten to him at least a little, especially when his eyes fell to Dean’s arm, the one where the Mark was.

“Can the angel feel it too?” he asked, his tone lower than it had been until then, like it was actually a legit question that had escaped his lips before he could actually think it through as he'd been doing with everything else so far, but of course Dean didn’t answer, not even when Jacob’s eyes moved back to meet his, curiosity heavy in his gaze.

He seemed to realize Dean wouldn’t speak soon enough, though, and he shook his head lightly at the hunter. This time he did look a little disappointed, Dean noticed.

“Well, it’s not like I won’t have enough opportunities to figure that out by myself as well,” he announced, standing up from his chair and rearranging his clothes, as if somehow he could have messed them up just by sitting down for a few minutes.

Dean actually had to hold back a scoff at that.

“You do realize that there’s probably a brigade of angels on their way here right now, right?” he couldn’t help but say.

Much to Dean’s surprise, Jacob actually smirked. “No angel can find you, not even the one you’re bound to. We used a spell to hide you on the trip here, and now you’re completely cloaked while inside this house. Trust me, Dean; we have better ways to hide you than that cheap little trinket you were wearing.”

Dean swallowed, and while he did feel relieved that Heaven _wasn’t_ going to find him in here, this also meant that Cas couldn’t track him either.

He really was going to have to figure out a way to escape on his own, and he had no fucking idea how he would even begin to accomplish that, not with those damn handcuffs. He might as well be a demon trapped in a Devil's Trap.

Although...

He _had_ managed to escape from a Devil's Trap when he'd been a Knight back in the Bunker, when Sam had been trying to cure him. Something about being human enough to slip past it. The memory was a bit fuzzy; all he knew was that it had hurt like a bitch, he remembered as much, but what really mattered was that he _had_ done it. And he wasn't a full angel; he was still mostly human, so maybe he could break free from the handcuffs if he tried hard enough.

Well, maybe there was hope after all.

“Now, I have some very urgent business to attend to, but I’ll send someone here to keep you company.” Keep watch over him and make sure he wouldn’t end up breaking the chair to get out of here, Dean heard instead. “We’ll talk soon enough, once your friends hand over the Book of the Damned and I have the angel trapped.”

Again, Dean didn’t answer; didn’t even bother to look up at the Styne, instead letting his gaze focus on the wall behind the desk, though he couldn’t quite stop clenching his hands in response to the Mark, which was still burning on his arm, demanding that Dean bashed the dude's skull into his own freaking head with his fists. Honestly, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Probably noticing he wouldn’t get a reply, Jacob left without another word, and Dean didn’t even bother to watch him go, taking advantage of the fact that the chair he was sitting on had its back turned to the door. He let out a breath as soon as he heard the door closing shut with a soft click behind him, signaling that the man was finally gone, and his mind instantly changed back to the topic that needed his full attention right now.

He needed to get out of here.

He kept struggling against the restraints even as he thought about what else he could be doing to get rid of the cuffs, hoping that he would indeed be able to break the things if he was part human and the nephilim was only half-angel; even as he let his eyes roam over his surroundings, assessing his resources as though he hadn’t spent nearly a whole hour doing it earlier; as if something might have changed since the last time he’d done it.

It hadn’t, of course, and the only helpful thing he could see were the paper clips on the desk merely a step away, which he knew he could use to pick the locks on the cuffs, but he couldn’t reach the damn things, and he didn't even know how the fuck he would get the things in his hands if he managed to pull them closer or drop them to the floor. But that didn’t mean he didn’t try, even if his legs weren't free, scooting the chair forward inch by inch with a lot of effort and trying everything he could to try and drop the clips, but all he did manage to do was hit the desk with his knee and push it even farther away by accident.

It took a while for someone to show up; it must have been at least an hour after Jacob had left when the door opened again and in walked one of the men from the convenience store—the one who had held him in a headlock, Dean was pretty sure. By that time Dean had already been convinced that no one would actually come to watch him, considering no one had even come to check on him until now, even with all the noise he knew he must be making, and he couldn't help but let out an annoyed huff when he realized that he wouldn't be alone anymore. Also, by that time the hunter had already lost any hope that he would be able to take advantage of the loophole of himself and the baby being human enough so that the Enochian sigils might fail, so really, things weren't really looking up for him.

The man didn’t even glance at Dean as he walked over to a chair on the side, sitting down on it and opening the book he had brought with him, immediately looking down at it as if Dean wasn’t even there.

Seriously? He was going to just fucking  _read_ over there?

Dean really wished that meant he could keep trying to get out of the cuffs, or at least figure out a way to somehow get to the paper clips, but while the man looked like he didn’t give a flying fuck about any of this, Dean knew that would change fast if the Styne noticed he was actually attempting to escape, so this made things way more complicated.

But he couldn’t just give up. If Dean couldn’t feel Cas at all, then that had to mean the angel couldn’t feel him either, so Cas probably couldn’t even find him.

And even if he could, the Stynes weren’t planning on simply getting the Book from them; now only were they planning to kill Charlie and Sam, but they also wanted Cas, and Dean wasn’t going to let that happen, so he had to get out of here before any of them got themselves in harm’s way without even knowing what they were truly risking to save Dean. He had to escape by himself.

Only he had no fucking idea how he was going to do that.

He glanced over at the man in the corner, wondering if he could take him when his entire body still felt so heavy and stiff, and he felt yet another spike of anger in his chest at the thought that they’d actually drugged him, even knowing that he was pregnant. At least Dean knew they didn't want to actually harm him or the nephilim right now, so he had to assume whatever drug they had given him wouldn't actually hurt the baby. But still, because of the sedatives, because he still felt numb and a little out of sorts, he knew he couldn’t attempt a fight, since he really did not want to push it too far; did not in any way wish to figure out if they would be willing to hurt him or the baby if he started up any sort of actual commotion, because that just wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

He looked down at his belly, where his little bump was still concealed by his shirts, letting out a low sigh as he silently apologized to his baby for this whole thing. This was his own damn fault, after all. If he hadn’t gone out when he had and run into the Stynes; or rather, if he hadn’t actually decided he could take Jacob and gotten into that fight back at that convenience store, then he might have been able to just walk out of that place and go back to the cabin before they could even realize who he was.

He had fucked up royally, and he was very much aware of it.

_I’m so sorry I got us into this mess, little baby. But I’ll get us out of here, don’t you worry, okay? You’ll be okay. I don't care how many of these guys I have to kill or what I have to do. I'll get you out of here._

He knew the baby couldn’t hear him or understand any of that, but he liked to think that maybe they could feel his mood or something, and if they had noticed the Mark acting up and Dean’s rage from earlier, he hoped those words would be enough to soothe them somehow, to show them that he had at least calmed down and that he would fix this.

Again, he knew that was very unlikely and that the nephilim couldn’t hear him, but it made him feel better regardless.

He just wished he had the confidence he’d tried to convey about getting out of here, because really, he didn’t. Waiting wasn’t an option here, and neither was actually attempting a fight. He doubted he would even be able to break out of the damn Enochian handcuffs, so honestly, he was lost on what to do, and with every minute that passed, he grew even more anxious. Jacob’s words about cutting the baby out of him and tearing both him and Cas apart over and over again wouldn’t stop echoing inside his head in a constant loop, settling a rock of dread in his stomach as he feared that maybe he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one; that  _they_ wouldn't be able to get out of it.

Fuck, what the hell was he going to do?

***~*~*~*~***

“Why are nephilims forbidden?”

It had taken Sam hours to ask that question, although those exact words had been bouncing around in his mind nonstop since earlier when Cas had first told him about Dean’s pregnancy.

And he was still trying to wrap his head around _that_ one, but he was pretty sure he was finally getting somewhere with that now. At least it didn’t seem so impossible anymore; his brain was finally starting to process the idea without his mind screaming at him about how insane it was, and that was really progress from before.

But he knew it hadn't truly sunk in yet. He was pretty sure his mind had just temporarily switched over to practical mode to rescue Dean so he could function normally for a few hours, but he knew it would all catch up to him again, once he got the chance to actually think it all through. Words like  _baby, nephew_  and _niece_ kept ringing inside his head over and over again, but still they felt foreign, not actually real.

And the funny thing was that he wasn't even mad that Dean and Cas had kept this from him for so long, because he knew his brother well enough to find it only rational. He would have been surprised if Dean had told him right away; it had already been quite a struggle for Dean to tell Sam about him and Cas in the first place, so really, Sam shouldn't have expected this to have been any different. And now Sam did get why Cas hadn't told him sooner, because of course the angel would not have wished to take this away from Dean; to break a promise like this. He got why the angel would prefer to have Dean be the one to do it, he really did.

That didn't mean Sam wasn't a little hurt, though, or that he didn't wish Dean had told him months, or at least even just a few weeks ago, because that could have prevented so many things, maybe even this whole situation with the Stynes, as surely Sam and Charlie wouldn't have let Dean drive away on his own in a such a distressed state had they known about the nephilim, and that way Heaven would also still be in the dark.

But now wasn't the time for any of that. They could talk about this later, once Dean and the baby were safe.

And there was that word again.

Baby. _Baby._ Dean and Cas were having a  _baby._ Dean, his very male  _brother_ , was carrying their forbidden hybrid child  _right now._ He'd been doing it for  _months._

With a shake of his head, Sam filed all that away for the time being, pushing all those thoughts right out of his head before they started to get to him again. They had more important things to deal with right now.

There were still a lot of questions floating around in Sam's head, though, ones that he couldn't quite ignore, but he hadn’t really gotten a chance to ask any of those until now. For hours all they had done was plan and talk about what they would do; revise their strategy over and over again to make sure that there were no flaws anywhere; that every single detail had been thoroughly thought out, because they just could not afford anything to go wrong at all. They had to get Dean out of the Stynes’ grasp as fast as possible, making sure that there were no risks involved because they just couldn’t have Dean in the actual fight, and even though Cas denied it, Sam was also aware that the angel couldn’t put himself in harm’s way too much either. Dean and the baby were tied to him, after all.

But unfortunately that part they could not avoid, although Cas did promise that he knew he had to be careful, and Sam knew that was all he could hope for anyway, so he didn’t insist. It wasn’t like they could go into this fight without the angel and still have a good chance of actually winning, and they couldn't take any risks, not with Dean involved.

They were just waiting now, however, expecting a phone call at any second now, so this was his chance of getting some of the doubts that were still swirling wildly inside his head out of the way. The air was tense with expectation because of what they were about to do and they were all way too tense, so this wasn’t really a good place for this conversation, Sam knew that, but for too long there had been only tense silence filling the air of the cabin's living room and Sam had just really wished to break it, and that was the only thing he could think about right now. Now that his mind had somewhat settled he could finally try to learn more, and maybe by doing that the fact that Dean was truly pregnant may actually sink in.

When he didn't immediately get a reply from Cas, Sam turned his body on the chair he was sitting on at the kitchen table to glance over at where the angel was still sitting on the couch, watching from the corner of his eye as Charlie did the same thing beside him, both waiting for an answer in silence.

Cas wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were focused out the window to his side, even though there was nothing to see there—they were surrounded by trees on all sides. It almost looked like he wasn’t even paying attention to them at all; like his mind was so far away he might not even have heard the question at all. It was like he had gone back to that weird, detached state from hours ago when he had been about to tell about the nephilim.

He did speak eventually, though.

“All other occurrences of nephilims were not… natural. They were created by rogue angels as a defiance of the Heavenly Host. The soul bonds were forced onto the humans chosen and the pregnancy itself normally drained their souls so much that it always got to a point where the humans would slip into a sort of vegetating state during the whole gestation period. And the humans got so weak, the pregnancy drained them so much, that they would all die during the birth, with no exception. For those reasons, my Father ruled out nephilims completely.”

Well, that sounded very, very bad.

And not at all like their current situation.

“But Dean’s fine,” Charlie pointed out exactly what was on Sam’s mind right then. “I mean, he’s not vegetating or anything, and he definitely doesn’t look like his soul is being drained at all.”

“Something like our case has never happened before, ever. We bonded and conceived naturally. If it weren’t for the Mark and my Grace, Dean and the nephilim would be completely healthy.”

“Then why…?” Sam stopped the question before it could jump from his lips, because he knew the answer to it already, of course he did. Angels had no moral compass basically, so if God had forbidden nephilims, then that was all they could understand. It didn’t matter if Dean and Cas’ case wasn’t like the others’; if the baby wasn’t a monstrous abomination and if Dean was actually healthy and wouldn’t die because of the gestation.

All they would care about was that the baby was a hybrid so it had to die.

At those thoughts, Sam settled for another question that had also been bothering him instead, “So they can actually track Dean without the necklace?”

Cas let out a breath, at last turning his head to focus his gaze on the two humans a few steps away. His eyes were so heavy Sam felt his chest tighten in response. “They cannot do it now, as Dean is hidden, but normally, yes. The Host can feel every angel in existence, and the nephilim is angel enough that it can be detected. Not only that, but the baby’s essence is completely different from the one of a full angel, so much that there would be no way for them not to be able to track it, to follow such an unique signal anywhere on this Earth if Dean is not properly cloaked.”

“So they’re really on their way here to kill you both?” Charlie asked.

Cas nodded numbly, “I heard them making plans to come here, when I heard them speak inside my head. They don’t know the child is mine, nor that Dean is the one carrying it. They cannot tell that much at least, but they know the nephilim exists, that Dean is already quite a few months along and that we were here in Branson very recently. And that’s already enough for them to send out a team to find and kill us. Heaven will not allow a nephilim, ever.”

“But you guys’ case is not a defiance against Heaven or anything like the others,” Charlie protested, but her voice was weak, like she already knew what she would hear in response. Sam was pretty sure she did.

“Heaven does not care,” Cas shook his head lightly, and his voice was suddenly much heavier with something Sam couldn’t quite identify. It was still odd to see Cas looking so human, letting out so many clear emotions that Sam wasn’t used to seeing on him, but he assumed he would just have to get used to it. He wondered how much of it was brought on by the soul bond; if being tied to a human made Cas more human somehow, or if this was just Dean’s influence on him. He had no idea, and he was curious, but this wasn't the right time for that conversation, so he just filed it away for later. “Our circumstances do not matter. All Heaven cares about is that every hybrid has to die. I’ve—” His voice cut off abruptly, and he looked away again, as if he couldn’t bear to continue speaking while looking at them for some reason. “I know that firsthand.”

Sam was almost afraid to ask, but still a word slipped through, jumping from his lips before he could stop it, low and tentative, “Firsthand?”

He watched as Cas swallowed, hesitating, eyes focused emptily out the window once more. He didn’t speak for a long pause, almost a whole minute, and at some point Sam was sure the angel wouldn’t say anything at all.

But he did.

“I’ve been to Earth before… before taking Jimmy Novak as my vessel, for something other than observation. It was over a century ago. I was… sent down here along with four more angels to take care of a nephilim.”

Oh. _Oh._

Sam swallowed, trying to find words to say in response to that but coming up with nothing. Now he got why Cas was so hesitant to talk about this matter at all, and he almost regretted asking about it at all.

Almost.

“The orders we received from the Host were simple and direct, as they always were—eliminate the hybrid and its creator, plus the other human Akobel had supposedly been laying with, which had the potential to create another hybrid.” Cas swallowed once, like there was something caught in his throat or something making his voice sound weird and forced, like it actually hurt him to speak. “There was no… no question, no chance for Akobel to speak or defend himself. He and the child were killed, and I just watched it all happened and did _nothing,_ even if I knew him and wondered what had happened to him to set him astray _._ He was a good angel, he cared about humanity greatly, and I couldn’t understand why he would rebel against Heaven that way. I thought what we were doing was right because those had been Heaven’s orders, and I didn’t even question it. And I know his case must have been like the others, even Gabriel said that Dean and I are the first ones to conceive naturally, but still, I wonder… The child had no fault, as did the woman, and still, I couldn’t even—”

Sam could hear the guilt in the angel’s voice, the sharp, heavy weight of it in every word, clear in the way the last part literally got caught in his throat on the way out, and the hunter shook his head lightly, feeling the need to protest. “Cas…”

“If Heaven finds us, either Dean or me, we’re dead. There will be no chance of speaking. They won’t care that Dean is healthy or that our case is different than anything else that might have happened until now. The baby is a nephilim, and to Heaven that is all that truly matters.”

This was bad. Fuck, this was so very bad. Sam couldn’t even believe Dean and Cas had been dealing with alone for months now. He couldn’t even imagine what their heads must be like right now, or what this must feel like for them. On top of the Mark and Cas' Grace, they still had to worry about Heaven coming for them and their own freaking child.

“We never… we haven't put much thought into what we would be doing in the long run, but for now keeping the nephilim hidden from Heaven, making sure the Host didn’t even know the baby existed at all, seemed to be enough for the time being. But now…” Cas shook his head, and his voice actually wavered a little as he finished, and Sam was truly rendered speechless when he realized it sounded like Cas might actually be tearing up, though he couldn't know for sure with the angel looking away from him. “Now the only option that remains is hiding from Heaven for the rest of our lives, and I’m not sure we would be able to manage that.”

It hurt to hear it. It hurt to even think about this. Sam could say nothing in response to it, either, managing to let out nothing more than a heavy, exasperated breath at those words, and beside him Charlie seemed to be in a very similar situation, at a loss for words, voiceless as she stared at Cas with such a pained look on her face that Sam knew was mirrored on his own.

“Well, I assume I will not have to do the honors of breaking the big news anymore.”

Everyone in the room jumped, eyes flying to the space by the front door that just a moment prior had been completely empty, but where now stood Crowley. He was staring at all of them calmly, a spark in his eyes that wasn’t at all appropriate for the conversation they were having right then, standing out in the tense air inside the cabin, but then again that wasn’t anything new when it came to the demon.

“It was about time, I have to say,” Crowley continued, “Although I was betting on you figuring it out for yourself at some point, Moose, because of course Dean wouldn’t be the one to do it. I am disappointed. I guess I overestimated you.”

Sam swallowed, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. He hadn’t mentioned to Crowley that he knew about the baby earlier when they’d talked on the phone; he’d just gone straight to the point, but he should have guessed the demon had to make his opinion known about the news as soon as he learned about it. Sam shouldn’t have expected anything different from him, but it was still annoying, nonetheless.

“We really don’t have time for this, Crowley,” Sam pointed out, words sharp and firm, hoping it would be enough to get the demon to hold back any snarky comments he might be ready to voice right then, because Sam really wasn't in the mood for any of that, and he was pretty sure the same applied to both Cas and Charlie.

If the demon was here, then it could only mean one of two things—either their plan had worked or not, and Sam needed to know which one it was. They couldn’t waste even a single second.

A satisfied, smug glint quickly bled into the demon’s eyes, but this time it was actually a good thing to see, as surprising as that may be.

Crowley smirked. “She found him.”

***~*~*~*~***

Dean couldn’t break free. He had been trying for hours, but the damn Enochian handcuffs seemed to really work on him, no matter how much human and how little angel he might be, because he just couldn’t fucking break them, no matter how much he struggled against them, how many times he tugged his arms and tried to somehow either damage them or the chair the cuffs were locked around, but neither would budge.

The dude watching over him would constantly tell him to quit it, but he yet hadn’t threatened the hunter at all and Dean had somehow managed to work out that the guy wasn’t supposed to hurt him unless Dean really gave him a reason to, so at least there was a little wiggle room for him to work with here.

Too bad that didn’t help much. The weird, heavy feeling in his muscles wore off eventually, and he was happy for that, but he was still tied to the fucking chair with no hope of breaking free anytime soon, and he was already getting frustrated because of it.

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked over at the guy in the corner, reading his book in silence and from time to time cracking his fingers, which was annoying Dean very much. He was pretty sure the guy was doing it just to annoy the hunter on purpose, too, the fucking bastard. Dean wanted to punch him so badly, too bad the dude never got close enough.

Dean started to knock his fingers against the wood of the armchair after a while, just to annoy the dude a little as well because honestly he was a little bored, and the guy started to glare at him after only a few seconds, but didn’t actually say anything. Dean knew the Stynes wouldn't actually hurt him because of something like this, no matter how annoying he was, but if the dude got really annoyed and stepped too close, maybe Dean could get a chance to knock him out or something, and that might actually work out a lot in his favor if the dude had the keys to the handcuffs. The chances of that working out well were pretty slim, really, but Dean was a little short on options here.

At some point, he was actually considering whistling when suddenly there was a heavy thump coming from outside the room (it seemed like it had come from downstairs, too, judging by how far away and muffled it sounded), and while at first he was confused, as soon as he heard gunshots Dean knew there was a fight going on out there. Not only that, but the way the Mark suddenly decided to make itself known could only mean one thing. As soon as it started to burn in response to whatever Cas was doing, as soon as the bond flared up as Cas must have entered the house so whatever had been blocking the connection didn't work anymore, Dean's heart jumped inside his chest at the realization that this was probably the rescue mission he had been truly dreading up until now. Because apparently they had been able to find him even if Cas had been blocked off, and they had walked right into the trap the Stynes had laid down for them, but Dean could do nothing but watch as the man in the corner also seemed to come to the same conclusion. He glared at Dean one last time, and then stood up, dropping his book onto the chair and taking out a knife from his belt that Dean had not been able to see there until now because of his coat (good thing he hadn’t tried to start up a fight, then, he realized with a shudder), before walking over to the door without a word.

The man opened the door, clearly intending to join whatever fight was going on somewhere else in the house.

But he didn't even get the chance to step out of the office, because only a second later he fell backwards as a big, heavy body knocked him back and down to the floor, and he didn’t even have time to scream before a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth tore his throat open as soon as his back hit the rug, blood splattering all around the floor as a loud snarl echoed through the room.

It was a hellhound; Dean immediately recognized the almost ethereal creature, as it looked not fully tangible and almost otherworldly, like it might even be able to go through walls even though that wasn’t the case. Its eyes were red and bright as it looked up at Dean once it was done with the man, a low, threatening growl emanating from its throat as it pulled its upper lip back to show him the sharp teeth in its mouth. He had no fucking idea how he could see this thing or why it was here, but those thoughts flew right out of his head just a second later because he had something else a lot more fucking important to worry about at the moment.

Fuck. _Fuck._

Dean struggled against his restraints as the creature stared at him, sniffing the air before its snout, and another snarl rumbled from its chest as it stepped over the man’s body, but the thing paused once its paws were on the rug, eyes still completely focused on him, mouth and jaw covered in fresh blood, and by the looks of it, not only from the man it had just killed right there.

But as much as he struggled, of course Dean still couldn’t break free from the handcuffs; couldn’t get them to burst open or break them, not with the engravings still in place, as had been the case up until now. His heart was pounding inside his chest, frantically beating against his ribcage as he realized that he might not walk out of this one alive.

No. This couldn’t happen. He had to find a way; _any_ way.

But he couldn’t even fight a hellhound normally, much less now. He knew firsthand how strong and vicious those creatures were, and as he stared at the thing, all he could remember was the feeling of teeth biting into his flesh, of razor sharp claws slicing through his skin and tearing him open, covering his entire body with blood as his insides literally poured out of his body. He hadn’t been able to fight them off years ago, had only lasted a few seconds against them before they had turned him into an actual fucking chew toy, and he wouldn’t be able to do it now. He couldn’t possibly—

The hellhound howled, throwing its head back as the sound echoed loudly off the walls, and Dean actually flinched at it. The Mark was still burning, but Dean ignored it.

When the creature was done making noise, it just stopped to stare at him again for a second, before it started to step forward slowly, movements oddly careful and hesitant, head lowered a little as its eyes seemed to measure Dean somehow, claws scraping a little too loudly against the floor with every step it took once it began to step on hard wood instead of the soft rug. It wasn’t snarling anymore, but it was getting closer to him and Dean hated it. He shifted on the chair, but that did little to protect his stomach, he knew that, since he had no way to shield it with his arms tied down as they were. He had no way to protect the baby from the hellhound, and that was really all he could think about right then.

And then the hellhound barked. It was a low sound, but it sounded almost like a whine, and Dean was so shocked by it that he actually stopped his struggling to stare at the thing, frowning in confusion. It continued to step toward him, but now its ears had been drawn back to rest flat against its head and there was nothing aggressive about its stance.

What the fuck.

The hellhound got to him soon enough, sniffing at his leg for a second until it rested its head on his knee. Dean winced as he felt the warmth from the blood soaking its fur (could it really be called that?) slipping into the fabric of his pants, because that one was going to be a bitch to get out, and these were the jeans Cas had fixed for him.

In that moment, however, Dean was more worried about the fact that the hellhound’s tail was fucking waggling, for fuck’s sake.

“Good girl.”

Dean jumped at the sound of the voice, recognizing it but still needing to look up to confirm that yep, Crowley was standing right there in front of him.

“I believe you’ve met Juliet,” the demon gestured to the hellhound, “Good thing, too. She’s the only hellhound I have so familiar with your soul’s trace. Found you in a little over an hour, even with the warding.”

Dean really wasn’t comforted knowing that Crowley could find him so easily, but he pushed the thought away for now. He still couldn’t believe there was a fucking hellhound staring up at him like he was supposed to pet it or give it food or something, but now that he knew that the thing wouldn’t kill or hurt him, he chose to try and ignore the weight of its head on his leg. And that was way easier said than done, mind you.

“What are you doing here?” he managed to let out, and he was happy to hear his voice wasn't shaking as much as he'd expected it to, and that was truly a victory right there.

“Oh, Squirrel, you really were never the bright one, now, were you?” Crowley sounded impatient, and with a snap of his fingers the cuffs around Dean’s wrists burst open. The ropes around his ankles were suddenly torn, too, as if they had been cut, and were now pooling at his feet, completely useless.“This is a rescue mission, obviously.”

Dean stared dumbly at him for a beat, until the demon rolled his eyes at him, reaching into his suit and pulling out something the hunter really hadn’t expected to see with him.

The amulet.

Crowley tossed it to him, and Dean caught it in the air without thinking, completely out of reflex. The wood was solid against his palm and he could barely believe he was actually holding it. The chord was fixed, he noted, as if it hadn't been torn at all.

But he hesitated to put it on.

"How do you even have this?" he asked, because the last person Dean had seen with it had been Jacob, so this didn't quite add up.

Crowley rolled his eyes again, letting out an annoyed huff, "Your boyfriend gave it to me. I didn't ask for a backstory."

Now that made even less sense, because how the hell did Cas have this? Maybe he had taken it from Jacob when he and Sam had talked to the guy? Or had they found it somewhere here in this place? He had no idea, but finally Dean decided this wasn't the time and pushed those thoughts away for now. The Mark was burning even more now and he realized that he had way more important issues to address at the moment.

“What's going on down there?” he asked, eyeing Crowley wearily. It seemed odd that if this was really a rescue plan, that the demon would be here alone, with none of the others, and Dean really didn’t like the feeling that thought brought to him.

Crowley let out another huff. He was looking more annoyed by the minute, but Dean didn’t even move from his spot on the chair as he waited for an answer.

A loud thud echoed from downstairs, followed by shouted words that Dean couldn’t quite make out, and then something most likely made out of wood breaking. The Mark hissed, and Dean swallowed drily, but reminded himself that he would be able to feel it if Cas got hurt.

“As I assume you can hear, they’re all quite occupied right now. The basic idea is that they distract while I rescue, because I’m the only one who could find you or that can get in and out of here, since Castiel can no longer fly. This place is hidden from angels, but not from demons or hellhounds, obviously, and Juliet here could find you anywhere on this Earth. Now, I need to get you out of here before the Stynes realize there’s something wrong up here and not simply down there, or would you prefer to stay here and wait so you can walk all the way back to Branson by yourself? Because I will leave you to do just that if you take much longer to put that bloody thing back on.”

Dean swallowed at those words, and in the silence that followed he felt his shoulder hurt without a warning, just a sharp pain spreading through it out of nowhere, like he'd just received a punch to it, and he winced, hand flying up to grip at it.

 _Cas?_ Dean called tentatively, even though he hadn't wished to distract the angel right now, but his worry ended up being too strong for that.

 _I am fine, Dean,_ the response was almost immediate, and Dean felt several pounds lighter just by hearing his voice.  _Go with Crowley, please. I need you two to be safe._

Dean wanted to argue, but those last words weighed heavily inside his head. He had to get out of here, not for himself, but for the baby. He should be out of here already, honestly.

_Just be careful, Cas. They want to trap you, because of the baby. Please, be careful._

There was a pause, then a low, firm,  _I will, Dean. Now please, go._

Crowley had an impatient eyebrow raised at him, which made the point that they should be gone already even clearer in the hunter's head, and they only stared at each other for another brief moment before Dean relented, letting out a breath as finally he put the necklace back on.

He chanced a glance at Juliet, who was still staring up at him with its head resting on his leg, and all he wanted to do right then was push her off, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t turn out well for him, so he refrained.

Crowley seemed to notice his tension, thankfully. He muttered something in a language that Dean couldn’t even recognize, and finally Juliet lifted her head from the human’s leg, sauntering over to the demon with her tail still freaking waggling from one side to the other like a happy puppy. Dean took that as his cue, at last getting up from the chair, feeling his muscles complain but ignoring the ache along with the insistent burn of the Mark, and he barely had time to realize what was happening before the demon snapped his fingers again and suddenly they were in a cabin, including the hellhound, but it wasn't the one they had been staying at in Branson. It was way bigger, for one.

His head spun a little at the sudden shift, and he shook his head, taking a moment to recover from the teleporting, feeling the floor uneasy and not quite firm enough under his feet. They were in the living room, so he leaned against the back of the couch for support,  afraid that he would end up falling to the floor if he didn't, because that might actually happen, as his balance was suddenly completely gone. He also noticed how the bond was numb again, probably because Cas was still back in that house, and he hated it.

The Mark, however, was still very much active, burning and hissing, asking Dean to go back there, and he knew that trying to push it away wouldn't work now, not when Cas was still fighting the Stynes and getting the damn thing all riled up.

Juliet sniffed around the room curiously for a moment, before finally settling for walking over to where the fireplace was on the side of the room, even if there wasn’t even a fire actually lit up in there, no actual warmth coming from it. She laid down onto the rug right before it regardless, curling up there and looking like she had every intention of taking a nap, and Dean still couldn’t get over just how much like an actual fucking dog she was acting. He had never thought hellhounds could even act like this at all. Maybe he would have known about this had he actually gone down to Hell as a demon, but he'd never bothered to, so he hadn't even seen any hellhounds while he'd been a Knight.

"Where the hell are we?" he asked when finally his balance returned to normal, though he was still supporting his hands on the couch, just to be safe.

"A very heavily warded and cloaked cabin about 30 miles outside of Vancouver."

"Wait, you took me to  _Canada?"_

Crowley shrugged at him, "Your angel's idea. Apparently he considers Canada far enough from Heaven's entrance for now, since there’s probably an entire squad of those winged freaks on their way to Branson right now to kill you.”

Dean really didn’t need a reminder that Heaven was coming to kill him, and each word felt like a sharp stab to his chest. As if that little piece of information hadn’t been playing on a constant loop inside his head already.

Well, Canada did seem far enough, he had to admit it.

“What about the others? You gonna bring them here now, too?” Dean asked when finally his balance returned to normal, seeing as Crowley was making absolutely no move to go back there and help them out, or even better, to get everyone out of that place now that Dean was back to safety, so of course he had to ask.

“They’ll call me to get them out once they’re done with 'dealing with those damn psychos'. I’m pretty certain those were the exact words Moose used.”

“What?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head at the demon in disbelief. What the hell was Sam _thinking?_   “Take me back there.”

Crowley lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Now, why would I do that?”

“Or get them all out of there now,” Dean shook his head again, getting more and more annoyed because the demon was still standing there as if there was nothing wrong in the world, clearly with no intention of moving even a single finger whatsoever, “You can’t just get me out and leave them there to fight the Stynes on their own! That’s insane!”

“It was your boyfriend's request,” the demon said with a light shrug. His voice was calm and detached, like he couldn’t care less, and that only made Dean even more annoyed. “He did not wish to leave right away, and apparently he made quite the case about it, because both your brother and your redhead friend agreed to his plan to stay back and distract while I got you out." Crowley shrugged, once more looking like he could not possibly care less, "Although I'm afraid Moose has no idea Castiel has decided to stay until every single Styne in that house is dead, but I'm sure he'll catch up soon enough.”

“There’s too many of them!” Dean exclaimed, “This doesn’t help anything. There are more of them out there. What the hell is he even _thinking_?”

Something Dean couldn’t quite read flashed in Crowley’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for him to actually grasp it. “You’re going to have to ask him about that. Although I'm pretty sure Castiel must have his reasons to want the Stynes dead.” The demon's eyes fell down, and Dean could not be sure whether he was looking at the Mark or at the human's stomach, but maybe it didn't matter which. Before he could reply, though, Crowley lifted his gaze back to meet the hunter's as he shrugged, the mask of indifference back in place as if it had never fallen at all. “Now, I’m just here to make sure you stay safe and don’t get yourself in harm’s way, because you’re the one I can’t have dying on me. They made me bring every damn thing they had to move here, including your two bloody cars, which according to the angel means that you need a babysitter to make sure you don’t do something stupid, like driving off in one of them to try and play the hero somehow."

While he did feel relieved that the Impala was here now—he had feared the Stynes had taken it or something—that did very little to soothe him. He didn’t need a fucking babysitter, he just didn’t see the fucking point of killing all the Stynes and risking their lives now that Dean was safe and sound. They could have just sent Crowley in to get him out, so why the hell did Cas feel the need to go up against the Stynes? Why had Sam and Charlie even agreed to it? The bloody way wasn’t really necessary right now, nor was it prudent in any way, since those guys were not quite human, so someone could get hurt or die.

Of course, the main idea of the plan seemed good, now that he could actually think it through. Get the hellhound to find him and take out some of the guys, Crowley goes in and gets him out of harm’s way, and then keeps guard with the demonic dog in case any angels showed up.

But Cas was the only one who knew why Dean needed a bodyguard, the only one even aware that Heaven was coming their way at all, so Dean couldn't help but wonder what the angel had told Sam and Charlie to explain why Crowley and Juliet would be staying with him, and why the demon had taken him all the way to freaking Canada. Dean got that they might be worried about him getting involved in the fight and aggravating the Mark, just as he understood why they would wish to skip town as quickly as possible to make sure any remaining Stynes would not find them again, so of course they would want Dean out of there quickly, but he knew those simple excuses didn't quite add up to the rest, and both Sam and Charlie were smart enough to figure out that one by themselves, Dean knew that for a fact. He hoped they wouldn't get suspicious about this, but then again he would be telling them about the baby pretty soon, so maybe it didn't really matter.

No, what really mattered right now was the fact that Dean was still not happy about them _staying behind._ Honestly, Dean still didn't understand why they had gone in at all. They really could just have sent Crowley and Juliet to get Dean out and that was it; no need for a fight, for anything. And okay, they had needed a distraction, but surely they could have thought of something else, maybe even called Gabriel, for fuck's sake. What the hell were they all thinking?

Deep down, though, Dean knew why. He knew why Cas would want to kill all the Stynes, but maybe he just didn't want to admit it. With the Mark burning, happy and reveling as Cas was most likely responsible for the deaths of at least a handful of those guys, it was impossible not to imagine that the thing must have had something to do with this. Adding that to Cas' worry, to the overprotectiveness he'd been showing toward Dean and the baby lately, it was really no wonder that the angel would want to see the Stynes gone. They had gotten to Dean once, and they could do it again if they weren't careful and left any of those guys alive.

But this wasn't the answer. There were more Stynes out there, so this might only make them mad, make that crazy family wish to find them even more. Not only because of the Book or the nephilim, but because of revenge, and that one might be even worse than the others.

It worried to him greatly to realize just how bad the Mark was getting on Cas' end as well, the weight of it settling over his heart and squeezing at it painfully. How long did they even  _have?_

"Something happens to Cas, it happens to me too, you know that, right?” Dean pointed out as his last resort, because honestly, he didn’t have anything else to say, no other cards left to play right now.

Crowley still looked unimpressed. “I’m pretty sure your dear angel can handle himself, Squirrel. He might constantly look like a kicked puppy, but I'm pretty sure he can hold his own in a fight. You should know that by now."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head at the demon, at the way he'd just dismissed the topic as if it wasn't a big deal. He lifted his hand to scratch at the Mark as he said, "Yeah, well, the Mark seems pretty excited about it. It hasn't seen any action in a while."

Finally that seemed to get a reaction out of Crowley. The demon's eyes fell to the Mark, narrowing a little as he took in how Dean kept dragging his nails over it to try and quiet the burning. He stared at it for a long moment, until at last the demon shook his head lightly, lifting his eyes to meet Dean's again, and when he did he looked almost annoyed, frustrated even. "It’s not like I can force Castiel to leave before he actually wants to. Transporting angels is not the same as humans, as I assume you might be able to imagine. If he does not wish to come with me, there is nothing I can do. I could only bring you here because you didn't fight me. And Castiel was very determined to stay.”

Dean wanted to argue, but clearly this was a lost battle, so instead all he did was press his lips shut together in annoyance. He might have had the right argument when bringing up Cas, as suddenly it became clear to him that the demon wasn't happy with the angel being in the fight either, as that way there were still risks involved that could turn out to be very harmful to Dean, but even if Crowley did wish to take Cas out of the crossfire, there was nothing the demon could do about it and Dean hated it.

It did make sense why Sam and Charlie were there as well, though. They wouldn't leave Cas to do this on his own, even once they finally realized what the angel truly intended, so of course they would stay back with him.

Still, that didn't mean Dean was happy about this. This was plain fucking reckless and  _stupid_ , and they were all going to hear it from him later.

Now, though, he felt completely helpless, because it didn’t seem like he could do anything about the whole thing at all. Sam, Charlie and Cas had apparently turned suicidal while Crowley was really intent on keeping watch over him, and even if he tried to get away from the demon, there was still a hellhound napping by the fireplace that would probably not be happy if he did anything to trap her owner so he could try and make a break for it.

With a huff, Dean walked around the couch and let himself fall down onto the cushions.

“Now, where would you hide the alcohol in this place?”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he let his head fall back against the cushions behind him, closing his eyes. “All they might have is cheap beer in the fridge, so knock yourself out." He wasn't drinking the thing, but that didn't mean that he didn't know where Sam and Charlie's stash should be, or what it looked like.

He heard a low complaint from Crowley that he couldn’t quite make out from where he was, a muttered curse most likely, but even as he heard Crowley moving he didn’t even bother to look up at the demon to check if he was going to the kitchen or not. Dean would have been amused by the scene and even chuckled any other time, but he was feeling too anxious for that right now, so instead he let the silence linger.

He concentrated on the bond instead, which still felt numb and weird, and he assumed the whole place was really heavily warded with some pretty powerful cloaking spell, because the buzzing was still way too weak now that he and Cas had switched places. He wondered how the hell the Stynes had figured out a way to do that, but then again, that family had at some point had the Book of the Damned in their possession, so maybe Dean shouldn’t be surprised that they would find a way to block the soul bond.

At least it was still there, though—limp and weak, true, but the fact that Dean could feel it at all meant that Cas was still alive. He would be able to feel it if the angel got hurt, he knew that, although that thought did very little to soothe his worried mind.

Some time passed, minutes ticking by slowly, during which Dean’s worry only grew, and at some point he just couldn’t bear the silence anymore, because with it, with no distraction for his mind, he found it harder to ignore the Mark; very close to impossible, really.

“How the hell can I see her?” The question jumped from his lips without a thought, because it was the first thing that crossed his mind as he opened his eyes and found Juliet still curled up by the fireplace like an actual fucking dog. Honestly, he was pretty fucking confused about her not being invisible anymore, or at least not to him anyway, but the thought just hadn’t been relevant enough until now for him to actually bring it up.

It didn’t make any sense, really. Angels couldn’t see hellhounds, so the bond couldn’t be to blame for that, right? Maybe it was the Mark?

A dry chuckle reached his ears, and he turned his head to find Crowley standing by window on the side. There was a small flask in his hand, and Dean wondered why he had even bothered to ask for alcohol at all if he had that, but chose not to question it and simply wait for an answer.

He saw a spark appear in Crowley’s eyes as he stared back up at the demon, and that made him a little uneasy. “Little fun fact for you, Squirrel: angels _can_ see hellhounds.”

Well, that just didn’t seem right. Dean remembered how Cas hadn’t been able to see any of the hellhounds a few years back when they had been—

Oh.

So Cas _had_ been able to see the hellhounds way back in the day, when they had been looking for Crowley to kill him, when the demon had been rounding up creatures to try to figure out how to open Purgatory. The angel had just made them _believe_ he couldn’t.

Huh.

“Castiel had to perform the show for you, and since you did not know better, he pretended not to see them. And you bought it easily enough.”

Dean swallowed drily at the words, unsure why the memory got to him so sharply, but maybe it was because he hadn’t thought about the whole thing with Cas and Crowley working together behind their backs in quite a while, or maybe even because things had changed between him and Cas now and the thought of the angel having done something like that hurt so much.

“Now, don’t look so sour, Squirrel. That was not my idea. He should have stayed back and tried to hold off the dogs, but apparently he was way too worried that I would end up hurting you two, so he stuck around with you. He didn’t know I would get your dear little grandfather to banish him.”

Dean gave Crowley a look, because was he really trying to fix the situation? He frowned at the demon, who simply shrugged lightly at him and looked away, as if declaring the conversation over, even if Dean was even more confused by the behavior.

Surprisingly, the words did ease his mind quite a bit, as the thought that even as Cas had been working with Crowley behind their backs, the angel had still been worried about their safety actually registered in his mind, and Crowley had sort of crossed him a little by banishing him in the end. Those thoughts were enough to melt away some of the tight feeling that had suddenly settled inside his chest, and it was a weird thing to have Crowley be the reason for that, the one who had tried to make it go away in the first place, but Dean chose not to dwell on it too much.

And that had been way too many years ago, anyway. It wasn’t even a memory worth thinking about anymore, honestly. It was all said and done now, had been for _years,_ and there was no reason to be sour about it now. He didn’t even know why it had bothered him so much.

He wondered if the Mark had made his reaction worse. He glared down at the damn thing, still burning and cursing on his arm, and decided that it probably had.

Letting out another huff, Dean sent a glance over at the napping hellhound—did those things even sleep? Or was it just being lazy? Dean had no idea, but he also didn’t really want to ask; didn’t really feel like talking again at all as worry began to flood back into his chest—so he closed his eyes again, as if that would help him shut out the world somehow, letting his head rest back against the couch.

Because apparently, all he could do now was wait and hope that everyone would be fine.

Awesome.

***~*~*~*~***

It was a big house in Hollister, Missouri. It was more like a mansion, really, enormous and imposing, high walls and a huge garden around it, with so many windows Sam couldn't even bother to count them. He wondered if it actually belonged to the Stynes, but it seemed too much of a coincidence that they would own a property so close to Branson, or that they could have bought it so quickly.

It wasn't like it mattered, though.

They wouldn’t have been able to find Dean if it wasn’t for Crowley, which was a weird thought to have, but it was the truth anyway. Cas was completely blocked from Dean and the seraph had no means to find him even through their bond, which alone by itself was already very worrying. Whatever cloaking the Stynes were using to hide Dean made it impossible for any angel to find him, but that shouldn't be enough to cut off the one who had a direct connection to Dean's soul, and Sam could clearly see how much that was bothering Cas, the doubt of what exactly they had done to Dean weighing down heavily on his tense shoulders, clear as crystal in the permanent worried frown that had settled in the angel's brows hours ago.

Sam couldn't say he didn't share the feeling. 

Because of the cloaking, they'd all just assumed that Gabriel couldn't find Dean either, which meant that there was not even a point in calling the archangel for help, so they didn't even bother. It wasn't like any of them was particularly thrilled with Gabriel as of late, anyway, so maybe it was better this way. Sam had never thought he would ever see the day where he would prefer Crowley's help over Gabriel's, but that was where they were now.

The other good thing was that the cloaking had no effect against a hellhound, so Juliet had been able to find Dean pretty easily. Something about her being familiar with the trace of his soul according to Crowley, which Sam didn't want to think too much about right now. And with such a powerful cloak over Dean, at least Heaven wouldn’t be able to find him there either, so really, the situation wasn’t as bad as it could be. Small miracles and all that.

That did very little to soothe their minds, though, because they might know where Dean was, but they had no idea if he and the baby were truly fine. They knew the Stynes had sedated Dean, and Sam wondered if that couldn't be harmful to the nephilim, but he chose not to voice that particular train of thought, because of course Cas must have thought about that one already and Sam would only be adding to his anxiety by reminding him of it. Honestly, Sam was actually a little worried about Cas' mental state right now, but then again it was understandable. He couldn't even imagine what this must feel like for the angel—having Dean and their unborn child taken away, not knowing what those psychos could be planning to do to them. It was a wonder Cas was managing to even think straight at all.

Because they had to be planning something. Even before Cas had pointed it out earlier when they had been discussing plans, Sam had already been worried about what the Stynes could want to do with Dean. The baby was the only nephilim on Earth right now, so he could only imagine what a family like the Stynes would want to do with something that rare if they really did know that Dean was pregnant, and they could only assume the Stynes did know, thinking back on the conversation they'd had back at the convenience store when Jacob had given them back Dean's amulet.

The Stynes weren't planning a trade of any sort. They probably wanted to keep the Book and Dean, and maybe even Cas, as apparently the nephilim needed both parents close to develop, or else Dean would not be able to carry to term.

And that was one of the main reasons why Sam wasn't happy about how Cas was dealing with this. Cas' intentions had grown clearer the more they had discussed their plan, the more they had revised the steps they would be following, and Sam had been able to realize quickly enough that the angel might be planning to deal with the Stynes a lot more violently than what they had previously decided. And that was a very scary sight to see, so much that Sam had resisted against the seraph's suggestion that they should go in the house at all at first, fearing that this idea was being brought on by the Mark and not by the angel's actual desire to protect Dean, or maybe those things were blurring together, he had no way to know. Also, by going in they would be risking Cas as well, which just didn't seem like a good idea at all. Sam just wanted to have Crowley go in and get Dean out, no fighting at all necessary.

And Sam had stood his ground on that, as frustrated as it clearly made Cas, until Crowley had pointed out that he had been able to feel at least a dozen souls inside the place where they were keeping Dean. That number was way too high; it brought way too many risks into the equation, and with Cas' renewed certainty that they had to go in and Crowley's not so helpful comments about how Dean might be put in harm's way if things got too complicated or anything at all went wrong in their plan, as unhappy as it made Sam, both he and Charlie had eventually ended up agreeing that it would be best if they all went into the house.

The place wasn't actually warded against angels; it was only hidden, which did make sense, because the nephilim was half-angel, anyway, and Dean might also be affected by any sort of actual warding to a degree because of the soul bond. So there wasn't anything stopping Cas from actually going inside, and that was what truly mattered once they had actually found Dean. There was also no warding against demons, but that wasn't exactly surprising, since the Stynes were surely not expecting a demon to show up trying to rescue Dean.

And that was precisely where their element of surprise resided.

But the problem was that Juliet would call attention to herself as soon as she was inside the house, so there was no way to sneak around to find Dean in there. Crowley would only go inside once he knew exactly where Dean was, otherwise he would be going in blind without knowing what he would find in there or where to go, so to avoid any wandering from his part the hellhound had to go in first and locate Dean before anything else. And even if Crowley was surely able to handle a dozen Stynes, the risk of involving Dean in the fight that way would be too high, and they simply could not have that happening. Dean needed to stay out of harm's way completely, so in the end they would need a distraction to keep most of the Stynes occupied while the demon got Dean out of there.

Also, they had no way to know what kind of traps might reside inside that building. There were no wards keeping demons out, but that was all they knew for sure, and if there was any sort of trap against demons inside, anything at all, everything would go down the drain, so there should be a back up in the house in case that happened. These guys had once had the Book of the Damned, so who knew what sorts of spells and other tricks against demons they could have up their sleeves?

So that was why in the end, Sam, Charlie and Cas had gone in right after Juliet to create a distraction, intending to draw the Stynes' attention to themselves and make sure that those psychos wouldn’t try to harm Dean or the baby in any way once they realized what was happening, keeping them busy for long enough so that Crowley could go get Dean out of the house and to the safety of the cabin they'd gotten ready and cloaked in Vancouver; to make sure they wouldn't even notice Dean was gone at all until it was already too late and they could do nothing about it. It had been Cas' idea to take Dean out of the country for now, and although Canada wasn't really _that_ far away, it seemed to be good enough, because it would already make it a lot harder for the angels to get to them, as without functional wings, Heaven was now relying solely on human ways to travel. The ideal choice of a place to hide Dean would have been the Bunker, of course, but Hannah knew where the place was, so it wasn't safe anymore, even if they locked it down. 

The Stynes were about as numerous as Crowley had said they would be, but the element of surprise had worked well in their favor. Those guys seemed to have been really confident that tracking Dean should have been impossible, or at least have taken longer than just a few hours, because they were clearly not ready for a fight. Also, a hellhound was definitely not something they had been expecting to see either, so four of them were down even before any alarms could go off to warn the others that there was something wrong, all by the invisible, sharp, deadly teeth and claws of Juliet.

There were three more coming for them as soon as those four were down, but Juliet didn't seem to have gone for them, because quickly her snarls faded away. The sound of her heavy, powerful paws thumping up the stairs that led to the upper floor of the mansion echoed through the air for only a moment as she most likely chased after the trace of Dean's soul, before also fading away once she was gone, leaving the three of them to fend for themselves.

And those guys were hard to take down; Sam really hadn’t expected as much. They didn’t seem to be human and Sam was really curious to know what they were, but it wasn’t like he would stop to ask questions, so he just did whatever he could to hold his own against them all, as surprisingly hard as that was. Cas had been the first one to manage to kill one, and then he’d aided the two humans with their own opponents. And the Stynes might be tough, but clearly they couldn't fight two at once, especially if one of those happened to be a vengeful angel, and once they were all finally dealt with, Sam, Charlie and Cas were left standing in an empty, broken room of the house, seven bloody, battered, lifeless bodies fallen at their feet.

"Dean's gone," Cas announced, panting a little as he stared down at the bodies. His Angel Blade was almost completely covered in blood, the entire length of it stained in dark red, but he made no movement to clean it. "I felt it when Crowley took him. He should be safe now."

"Good," Sam nodded, letting out a relieved breath. He had been truly terrified the Stynes could have done something to Dean already and Cas hadn't been able to feel it, he had just refused to actually think too much about that or even voice that thought, so suddenly he felt a few pounds lighter knowing that Dean was okay and far away from there already. 

"You think there's anyone left?" Charlie asked, eyes taking in the hallway on the side, as if curious to go check it.

"Maybe. We haven't come across Jacob yet," Sam pointed out, and at the mention of the Styne's name the hunter watched as Cas' eyes grew harder, colder even, like a cloak of some sort had suddenly been drapped over them.

Sam swallowed drily at the sight. They should leave now, he was very much aware of that. They had already pushed their luck enough for one night; _Cas_ had already pushed it way more than he should considering he must be feeding the Mark right now; that could not possibly be more obvious as Sam took in the actual murderous look in Cas' eyes, but for some reason the hunter couldn't make himself pull out his phone to call Crowley just yet. He knew it was reckless; a risk that could be easily avoided, but now that they were already here, Sam had to admit he did want to deal with at least Jacob, as he seemed to be the Stynes' leader somehow. He wanted to figure out what the man truly knew and what plans he could have for Dean and the nephilim, as well as if there were any more Stynes out there. They needed to know more about this family so they could figure out how to proceed after tonight, know what extra precautions they would need to take while hiding Dean and the nephilim because of the Stynes, and this might be their only chance to do that.

Also, now that he knew these guys weren't even fully human, Sam had no guilt about wanting to kill the guy. He had tried to kill Charlie and was probably planning to do something even worse to Dean and the nephilim. He deserved this, and Sam would sleep a lot better once he knew that psycho was gone. And whatever they would be doing to him, it would be to keep Dean, Cas and the baby safe. The Stynes would come after them if they simply rescued Dean and left Jacob alive, both for the Book and for the nephilim, Sam had to assume, and they couldn't have that. They already had Heaven to worry about; they didn't need anything else.

So that was why the next thing that came out of his mouth was a breathed out, "Let's check the rest of the house."

Charlie didn't look surprised to hear those words, but she did consider Sam for a long pause before finally nodding in agreement. "Yeah, okay," she replied lowly, reloading her gun, "Let's find the rest of them."

Cas didn't speak in response, instead regarding Sam with those heavy, intense eyes for a moment before he also nodded, and without a word the angel turned to walk toward the hallway that most likely led to the rest of the house, Angel Blade gripped tightly in his hand.

Sam hoped they wouldn't regret this.

They began making their way through the first floor of the house, and they only had to take down two more Stynes that came out to fight them, which Cas took care of just as he had before with an ease that startled Sam a little. The angel really shouldn’t be putting himself in harm’s way like this, and he definitely wasn’t strong enough to handle a fight like this and just be okay later on, so for a brief moment Sam found himself actually worried about the wild look of rage in the angel’s eyes, about how suddenly his movements had become more violent and stronger than they should with his Grace so weak, as if something was fueling his power somehow. The look in his eyes, the emptiness, and blind rage that could be seen so clearly in them was way too similar to what Sam had seen in Dean's because of the Mark.

Maybe Cas shouldn’t have come with them, after all. Earlier, Sam hadn’t even considered that this might make the Mark even worse since Cas and Dean were connected, probably because of how worried he was about everything else, or maybe it was the shock from the whole baby situation that still lingered and wasn't yet allowing his brain to work properly, he wasn't really sure.

But even if they shouldn't have brought Cas along, now it was too late to do anything about that, and all they could do was finish off here and get out quickly before too much damage was done.

As it turned out, they didn’t have to look for Jacob for too long. They found him in the living room, or at least that was what the room looked like. He had a glass of what Sam assumed was a really fancy and expensive drink in his hand, and he looked like there was nothing out of the ordinary happening outside of that room, sitting on the couch by the lit fireplace with his legs crossed, enjoying his beverage calmly with his back turned to them, as if expecting a guest for a friendly visit or a business meeting.

It occurred to Sam then that as soon as things had gone south Jacob could have bailed, could have found his way out of the place through the backdoor or something, but for some reason he hadn’t; he’d stuck around even if he knew he could die. Sam briefly wondered why, but then decided it didn’t matter.

“Well, you sure are skillful, I have to admit that,” Jacob said without even turning his head to look at them, calmly lifting his glass up to his mouth and finishing his drink all at once, tossing it all back and into his mouth in one quick motion. He deposited the empty glass onto the side table, and then slowly rose to his feet, at last letting his eyes meet the group as he let his body turn, examining them all quietly for a beat. He looked way calmer than he should in a situation like this. “I knew you might not be a very usual lot, but a tamed hellhound? That’s not something you see every day.”

Sam swallowed any retort that might have made its way up his throat, any comment about how the man had absolutely no idea who he was dealing with, shaking his head lightly as he decided that was just not worth it at all. So instead all he said was, “It’s over. You lost.”

Much to his surprise, Jacob looked amused at those words. “Tonight, maybe so. But regardless, the rest of my family will come for the Book."

So there were more of them out there. Sam tried really hard not to let his reaction to that comment show, as worried as it made him. He was willing to bet Jacob wasn't talking about just a handful more of them, either, and he swallowed drily at the thought.

"I've already warned them about the hybrid, of course. Nephilims are extremely rare, as I’m sure you already know, although to make sure it lives we would need both parents,” His flitted over to Cas, who tensed up beside Sam, before the Styne’s eyes found the hunter's once more. Sam's body tensed up even more in response, because this had been exactly what he had been imagining he would be hearing, but that didn't mean it made him any less angry. “And while my family is interested in what possessing such a peculiar creature may bring us, maybe that one is more trouble than it’s worth...” He made a pause, letting his words linger in the air as he took a few steps toward the wall to the side, eyes focused on the painting hanging there for a moment, as if suddenly the conversation had lost its importance.

The painting showed a cornfield in faded, light colors, with a small house in the distance, smoke rising from its chimney, the back of a scarecrow visible on the side, tilted and worn by the weather. It felt oddly out of place in that room, and Sam wasn't sure why.

Jacob's gaze danced over the painting, as if he was seeing it for the first time, taking it in for a long, quiet moment. Once more Sam wondered who this house belonged to.

When at last the Styne spoke again, his voice was detached, distracted, words almost dragging on his tongue. “You might have won against me, but there’s always another one to take our place when we fall. We’re expandable, replaceable, and there are a lot of us. They’ll come, and they’ll take what’s ours.”

Sam did his best not to show the anxiety that spiked within him at the mention of these guys' numbers, swallowing drily and doing his best to school his features into a mask of indifference and confidence. He shouldn’t have expected any less, honestly, with their luck, but it was still not good to hear it.

“But even if I die tonight, at least I can still teach you a lesson. Maybe then you will learn not to underestimate us.”

“You lost,” Sam pointed out again, shaking his head, happy when his voice still came out firm, tone confident and final, leaving no room for argument, “You don’t have Dean or Cas or the Book. It’s over.”

Jacob smiled a little, shaking his head as his eyes flittered back and forth between the three members of the group, as if measuring their reactions. There was a glint in his eyes that Sam really didn’t like to see, like there was a secret joke lingering in the air that only he was aware of, and suddenly the certainty Sam had had up until now that they had indeed won the fight tonight wavered, buckling under the weight of the anxiety that was now blooming in his chest. It felt like the dude still had a card up his sleeve, and that thought only made Sam even more anxious.

But maybe he only thought he did, Sam reasoned. Maybe he didn’t know Dean was long gone, or maybe he was just bluffing anyway. Regardless, the hunter’s grip on his gun tightened unconsciously as uneasiness poured into his gut, muscles tensing even more in expectation, ready to respond to any abrupt movement the other man made. But as much as he wanted to just pounce on the Styne right then, as much as he wished to stop this guy from using whatever last trick he might have prepared before he even had the chance to, Sam knew that any movement he made right now might get a reaction out of the Styne, might end up causing him to actually use his last resort, whatever that may be. And Sam couldn’t risk it, not with how hard it was to take these guys down; not with how much was at stake here.

Maybe sticking around had been a bad idea, after all.

Sam swallowed, but said nothing else, waiting for the staring contest to be over. No one spoke for a while, although he did notice how Cas seemed even tenser all of a sudden, shifting his weight a little, adjusting his own grip on the blade in his hand, like all he wanted to do in that moment was jump on Jacob and cut the dude's heart right out of his chest. In fact, that might be exactly what Cas might be thinking of doing right then. Sam wouldn't be surprised.

Jacob moved his eyes away from them again, eyeing the painting, touching the golden frame with the tips of his fingers, feeling the texture, it seemed.

Sam really wanted to shoot him, but he refrained, as hard as that was.

“Angels are rather fascinating creatures, honestly. Basically waves, a concentrated ball of pure energy that can take over a human's body, control it as if it were their own, although only with consent. They don't belong to Earth, though, as I’m pretty sure you already know. And the funny thing is, it doesn't seem as though they belong in Heaven either. When you exorcise demons, you send them to Hell, and you can technically expel an angel from a human body and send them to Heaven, I'm aware, but when you _banish_ an angel? They don't go to Heaven. Being banished will essentially severe an angel’s connection to both Earth and Heaven momentarily. It will literally send them to another plane of existence, cut off from everything that could ground them, making their Grace lose a great deal of energy in the process, so much that a weak or wounded angel could actually die from it. And that makes me wonder: what would happen to an angel’s unborn nephilim if something like that happens, especially when it’s a male who’s bearing it? Would it kill both parents? Kill only the child?” Jacob hummed thoughtfully, turning his head to look at them again, and the same glint from earlier was suddenly back in his eyes. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

And then he pulled the painting off the wall with one sharp tug, letting it fall to the floor at his feet with a loud thud, and in that moment the entire scene froze.

There was a banishing symbol painted on the wall in fresh blood, and clearly it had been painted there earlier, in preparation, hidden from sight behind that painting so it wouldn’t be spotted right away, but it would still be ready for use when necessary. The implications of the man's words were clear in Sam's head, the fear of what could happen to Dean, Cas and the baby if the angel got banished washing over his body like a bucket of icy water, and the pure, potent feeling of dread that realization sent through him instantly flooded his insides. It made him act completely on instinct, without a rational thought.

He fired, one shot after the other, and Charlie did the same, bullets hitting Jacob with precision, showering all over his torso and without a doubt hitting his heart quite a number of times. Cas stepped forward, apparently not caring that there were bullets flying through the air very close to him as he moved, but then again, it wasn’t like they would really hurt him. The angel’s grip on his blade was tight, face filled with an even more potent blind rage than what Sam had seen in his eyes earlier, and it was clear that he had every intention of tearing Jacob down to pieces as soon as he reached the Styne.

He didn’t have time for that, though. No matter how many bullets hit his chest in the seconds that followed, the Styne didn’t fall. Instead, he lifted his hand, showing them his palm; how it was covered in blood, which Sam had also not noticed until then. The hunter was surprised at how well the man had managed to conceal it from sight, and he cursed himself inside his head for not noticing it sooner; for not realizing what Jacob had had in mind all along. There was a clear cut slicing right through the skin, coating the Styne's entire hand in crimson, and of course Sam knew what he was about to do, _of course,_ and yet he could do nothing to stop it.

Jacob slapped his hand against the wall, right over the center of the symbol, and the entire room was suddenly flooded in white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Sam and Charlie _finally_ know! :D
> 
> Okay, so again, I'm really nervous about this chapter, because I know a lot of people wanted Dean to be the one to tell them about the baby, but I gotta say that was never my plan, not even in the beginning. Also, I've written countless versions of this chapter and tested out this scene with everyone I could telling Sam about the baby in various different scenarios (Cain, Crowley, Gabriel, Charlie (if she'd found out about it before), and even Rowena and the Stynes), but finally I've settled for Cas and I really love how this turned out, so that's why I chose to stick with Cas.
> 
> Also, I promise you, when Sam and Dean finally talk about this there will be tears and it's going to be beautiful, and that's coming up very soon. ;)
> 
> I hope I didn't disappoint.<3 :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot longer to edit than I'd planned, so I'm sorry for the long wait. Every time I thought I had it ready I would decide I wanted to change something else. Seriously, I lost count of how many times I rewrote this one. Also, I have the flu right now, which means my writing/editing speed has been at like 30% for the last few days, so... yeah. :/ (I'm finally getting better now, though!<3)
> 
> Anyway, this is quite a heavy chapter, so please read the warning before going any further, and while I will go ahead and remind you, once more, that Dean **will not** miscarry, if that warning still worries you and you wish to know what actually happens before reading the chapter, or if you wish to skip the two scenes where it happens, please check end notes.  
>   
>  **Warning: This chapter contains early labor.**
> 
> Again, please don't hate me!<3

“Okay, maybe you’re not _so_ bad.”

Juliet lifted her head at the sound of Dean's voice, turning it around to stare up at the hunter, blinking those big, red eyes at him, even tilting her head a little to the side and lowering one ear as she regarded the human, and for a moment Dean actually feared that she could somehow understand what he’d just said and that she might suddenly decide not to be so overly friendly with him anymore, because that gaze looked way too intelligent for him not to consider the chances of that. And if she were to decide that she wanted to stop being cute, if she suddenly chose to try and take a chunk out of him instead, well, that would be very bad, considering that she was currently spread over his lap and literally had him trapped under her weight, so he had no way to push her off and run if she turned hostile.

But she didn’t. Without making a sound, she turned her head around again so she could lay it back on top of her paws as if nothing had happened. She adjusted her weight a little better on his legs, and with relief Dean realized that she either hadn’t understood his words or simply didn’t care.

He couldn’t help but smile at the low sad whine that escaped her throat a second later, as if she was asking him why he had stopped petting her. He shook his head at her, amused, before moving his hand to resume running it over the dark fur on her back, still surprised by how soft it was. She was also oddly warm, and it was weirdly soothing to just let his fingers run over her pelt, feel it tickling his skin a little as his hand moved through the short, thick strands of her thick coat, and soon enough she started to make the same odd happy sound she'd been doing earlier—a low rumble that seemed to emanate from her chest, which was a little weird because it sounded way too much like a purr, even if she wasn’t by any means feline.

He let his hand slide over to the hellhound’s head, and he couldn’t help but chuckle when the rumbling got louder, or how Juliet actually closed her eyes, tilting her head even more to the side so he could pet her behind the ear as she seemed to like so much. Her tail was waggling so much that Dean could feel her entire rear moving with it, the sound of it thumping against the couch actually loud and very rhythmic at this point.

It was really fucking surreal that he was actually petting a freaking hellhound, and that she was acting exactly like a fucking _dog_. He still couldn’t really wrap his mind around this; couldn’t quite tie the image of the friendly, attention starved creature literally lying on his lap right now to any of the other hellhounds he’d come across over the years. And that made him wonder how exactly hellhounds became the bloodthisrty, savage beasts that Dean was so used to seeing them as by now. Were they naturally like that or were they always like this and simply turned wild and murderous when told to?

“She’s not usually that friendly,” Crowley commented, as if reading Dean's mind. The hunter looked up at the sound of the demon's voice, only to find Crowley watching the scene with almost curious eyes from his spot by the window, which he seemed pretty much unable to move from, as he’d been standing over there for most of the time they’d been in this cabin. What he was looking at out there, Dean had no idea, but the human hadn’t yet taken the time to explore the place or even properly look out the windows, so he chose not to comment on it. Crowley had apparently been watching the scene quietly until now, Dean realized, that perpetually indifferent expression still firmly in place on the demon's face, but the hunter was pretty sure Crowley might be fighting a smile, judging by the way the corner of his lips went up for just a second as he spoke, though he seemed to regain control over his features and put a stop to it soon enough. Still, there was an odd hint of something else to the demon's voice that Dean couldn't quite identify as he added, “That means she likes you.”

Dean wasn’t sure why that made him smile, but it did, and he moved his other hand to scratch at the other side of Juliet’s head at the words, watching as her tail began to waggle even more excitedly against the couch.

Again, actual freaking dog.

He kept petting Juliet, happy for the distraction she was providing him with, even if that was definitely not enough to truly take all of his worry away. Even if he was smiling at her, even if he continued to pet her and chuckle at the sounds she was making, his mind was still far away, constantly thinking about how Sam, Cas and Charlie could get seriously hurt at any second, and how he had no way to help if that happened. His attention was still very much focused on the bond, hating the complete numbness he still felt coming from it and wondering if he would even be able to feel anything if Cas got hurt with the way the connection felt blocked again.

He hoped so, but he couldn't know for sure, and fuck if that doubt wasn’t truly terrifying. For the thousandth time, he silently cursed the unbelievably effective warding the Stynes had placed in that house.

Honestly, he was pretty sure Juliet had decided to deposit herself onto his lap because she’d sensed that he was tense and worried to some degree, because dogs did that sometimes, right? He was pretty sure he’d heard something of that sort somewhere, at least. It had been pretty quick, too; they had probably not even been here in this cabin for more than 5 minutes when she’d suddenly decided to get up from her spot by the fireplace and had simply trotted over to the couch, jumping onto it without hesitation and lying down on Dean as if she had every right to, demanding attention.

It had been a little scary at first, to see a hellhound marching over to you and all but crawling onto your lap, but surprisingly Dean had gotten over it pretty quickly.

He guessed by now it had been at least half an hour since Crowley had brought him here—or maybe it had been less than that, he had no way to know; that was just how long it had felt like for him—and Sam had yet to call the demon to get him and the others out of that house, which was making Dean really fucking anxious. This whole idea was terrible and dangerous and so many things could go wrong, so of course Dean was fucking worried. He would only feel calm again once those three were here, away from that family of psychos, safe and sound.

Another low whine reached his ears, so he looked down at the hellhound on his lap, only to find Juliet giving him something that was disturbingly close to an inquiring look, and once more Dean wondered if she could actually tell that he was worried or upset. It really did seem like she could.

“As dedicated as you are to it, sulking won’t fix anything, Squirrel.”

Dean huffed, sending Crowley a glare, hand still petting the hellhound even as he looked away from her. “I know. And clearly neither will you.”

The demon gave the hunter yet another very unimpressed look. “Have we not gone over this already?”

“They’re taking too long.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, still looking like he just couldn’t care less. “You can feel Castiel is alive, can’t you?”

“Yeah, but I can only feel _him_.” And that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried sick, either. That just meant Cas wasn't hurt right now; it didn't mean the angel couldn't  _suddenly_ get hurt.

Crowley simply gave him a weak shrug.

“Seriously?” the hunter asked, stilling his hand, and instantly he noticed how Juliet shifted on his lap, though he wasn’t sure if she did it because he'd stopped petting her or because of the change of tone in his voice; because of how it had suddenly grown louder and irritated. He didn’t look back down at her to try to find out, though. “So you’d really rather _wait_ for something to go wrong instead of actually going there to help prevent it? You really think that’s smart?”

That finally got a reaction out of Crowley. The demon looked almost offended for a second, but the pause that followed, the way his eyes lingered on Dean’s face as no word escaped his mouth, as he seemed to have been rendered quiet while he searched his mind for a response, clearly thinking his next words through very carefully before actually letting them out—it all told Dean that he had in fact said the right thing.

“The Stynes are not human,” Dean added, hoping it would help sway Crowley even more, “I don’t know what they are, but they’re strong. So don’t try to act like everything’s fine and that waiting is a good idea.”

Crowley’s featured hardened, and he took another swig from his flask, swallowing slowly as he still seemed to be considering his answer with caution. And when finally he spoke again, his voice was sharper than Dean had expected, bitter even. “I’m not. _Nothing_ about this entire thing is a good idea. I’m aware of that.”

“And still you’re doing nothing to fix it,” Dean bit out, watching as Crowley rolled his eyes and looked away from him with an annoyed huff, but the hunter didn't let that stop him. “Why? Obviously you’re not happy with this, but still you’re here, just waiting for everything to go to hell without doing anything to help. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not that stupid. I know I can’t go out there. So if you can’t even—”

 **All air left Dean's lungs at once,** cutting him off abruptly, as if he'd suddenly been punched in the stomach. He doubled over without thinking, body folding in on itself in a purely instinctive reaction as a weird, completely foreign and unexpected feeling that very much resembled an electric shock suddenly ran through his entire body at once, like a wave, or a bucket of water being dropped over his head, only of course that hadn’t actually happened. And the weirdest part of it was that the feeling seemed to be coming from somewhere inside his chest, though it was quick to begin spreading outwards to the rest of his body, stretching out its tendrils anywhere it could reach, like something had been injected into his bloodstream and was now taking over his entire body. It was a weird thing, and for some reason it actually made him feel like he was falling, making him completely disoriented as suddenly all he could see was light, meaningless flashes of images that weren’t coming from his own eyes, shapes dancing in his vision and fading before he could even grasp what they meant, swirling in and out of focus too fast for his mind to try and comprehend any of it.

It hurt, that was all he knew for sure; all his mind could actually process right then. The pain that followed was intense, burning even, strong and potent as it washed over his entire being. It was like lava had suddenly replaced all the blood in his veins, melting away every single inch of tissue it touched on the way as it flowed through his entire body, spreading more and more with every second that passed, and it hurt, it hurt _so fucking much_. He felt a scream tearing out of his lips, throat aching to let out such a loud sound, though he didn’t actually hear it, as his ears were ringing too loudly for that, filled with nothing but white noise, which blocked out any other sounds coming from around him. There was also this weird pull that he couldn’t understand, like something was holding on to him somehow, hooks gripping at his very bones and just _fucking pulling_ in all directions _,_ and he was sure something might actually snap out of place soon if that went on for too long; he could almost feel it coming.

And it did eventually. The feeling lasted for what seemed to have been a whole minute, until suddenly he felt as if the invisible hooks had broken, abrupt like a rubber band snapping, or the chord of the pendant being ripped from his neck back at the store—torn because of a strain it could no longer take.

And _fuck, that fucking hurt._

Seconds, minutes passed; he had no idea how long it had been, really. But the pain did not fade, even after the light was gone. His middle hurt, like someone was cutting him open from the inside, the pain so powerful he had to curl up his body around itself even more as his arms wrapped around his stomach. Briefly he felt glad that Juliet had apparently jumped from his lap at some point without him even realizing it, so he could just fold over himself without having to push her away, because that might make her upset and he didn’t want to have to deal with that right now, but that thought was gone almost as soon as it had entered his mind, pushed aside as there was a much more pressing issue demanding his attention in that moment. Tears pooled in his eyes, and he screamed again, flames erupting from deep inside of him, pain flooding his nerves in constant waves.

 _Fuck,_ it hurt. He actually felt like something was trying to tear him in half. His stomach was burning, like he had swallowed incandescent metal that was now proceeding to melt him from the inside out.

The pain lasted for minutes, until finally it started to fade, growing duller and duller until it was almost bearable, which was a little weird. It wasn’t gone by any means, but at least it lessened enough so that Dean could open his eyes again and his vision wasn’t all distorted. All of a sudden he could actually feel his body again and was at least more aware of his surroundings. He blinked a few times, surprised to find Crowley so close to him—holding his arm, in fact, grip tight around Dean’s bicep, as if trying to steady the human somehow, and Dean was pretty sure he was talking, too, but the hunter couldn’t quite make out the words he was saying with his ears still ringing as they were, nor could he actually see the demon’s face because his vision was still a bit out of focus. The Mark was burning too, but the pain he had just felt had been a lot stronger than that, way more than the stinging burn of the curse branded into his skin, so he hadn’t even noticed it until now.

 _Cas._ Something had happened to Cas. He knew that for sure, not even a single hint of doubt in his mind. Fuck.  _Fuck._

“—did you morons even _do?”_

He blinked again, and finally his eyes started to cooperate a little more. It was only then that Dean realized Crowley had a phone pressed against his ear, and that he looked very, very angry, but the hunter had no idea who he could be talking to right then.

He watched as the demon’s eyes widened a beat later with whatever he had just been told, and his skin actually paled a little, which was a really odd sight to see. He looked completely caught off guard and truly spooked, which was also something Dean had certainly never seen before, and as Crowley turned to look at him with actually  _panicked_ eyes, Dean realized that he must be right and something must have really happened to Cas. He must be talking to Sam, Dean realized. But just as words were finally beginning to form on the hunter’s lips and he was about to ask the demon what was going on, the pain was back.

It hurt just as much as it had before, and Dean could only curl up around himself again, folding over his middle as if that would help anything, even though clearly it had done nothing for him up until now. He didn’t get why the pain had just stopped and then suddenly come back a minute later like that, but he couldn’t really think straight right then; his mind wasn't exactly coherent enough to try and figure it out at the moment. He felt another scream leaving his lips, and he closed his eyes, just wishing for it to pass again, because that was really all he could do.

It lasted a while, probably another couple of minutes, before eventually going away just as it had earlier, and Dean frowned in confusion once it was over, panting as he struggled to catch his breath. What kind of pain came and went like that? It was almost timed, too, rhythmic even, almost like—

“No."

He’d felt this before. Dread pooled into him like a tsunami, filling him with nothing more than pure,  _raw_ panic as suddenly it clicked inside his head that he knew what this was, he  _knew_ , and yet he couldn't let it truly register in his mind. The single thought of it; simply even _considering_ the mere possibility that this might actually be happening was already enough to make his head spin, because that pain was truly not completely foreign or new to him, and he was very much aware of that now. But it hadn’t been real last time; it had been nothing more than an illusion created by the Mark, as terrifying as it had been to feel it happen.

But this time it was _real._ Fuck, he was actually... But he  _couldn't_...

"No, no, no, no, no...”

He looked up at Crowley, eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for an explanation, to hear something, _anything_  from the demon that meant he was probably wrong about this and that this wasn’t really happening, but the heavy, worried look he found in Crowley’s eyes, the actual fucking _fear_ he saw in them, told him otherwise. The single sight of it was so fucking out of place it actually took Dean a beat to believe that he was actually seeing it at all, and that only made him even more terrified.

“Castiel was banished.”

All oxygen seemed to leave him at the sound of those words, even more potent panic blossoming in his chest. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning even more now, and suddenly he couldn’t fucking _breathe,_ because of course he knew what that meant; knew what had happened. This pain could only mean one thing, and that was the most terrifying thought he’d ever had in his life.

He looked down at his stomach, where his palm was still pressed over his belly, right on the spot where he was starting to show; where his bump was, where his little ball of light should be safe.

But it wasn’t.

“Dean, you need work with me here,” Crowley was still talking, and now the words were being directed at him, even though the phone was still pressed to his ear. Dean forced himself to focus on the demon, but it took a lot, and once more he didn’t even have time to respond, or even to say anything at all.

The pain was back, and yet again it had him turning into a ball because he just couldn’t take it. He was actually pretty sure that he was going to pass out from it soon if it kept coming and going like that because it just hurt _too fucking much_.

Cas had warned him about this, of course. They had talked about this more than once before—about how the pregnancy was risky, about how easily he could go into an early labor and miscarry because of the Mark and the angel’s Grace.

This hadn’t really been the Mark’s doing, though, not really, or at least Dean didn’t think it was, anyway. Cas had been banished, with another angel’s Grace, no less, and that must have been the trigger. Actually, maybe that had been the chance the Mark had been waiting for all along. Maybe it was a mixture of both, he didn't know.

But it didn’t matter how they had gotten here. The only thing that truly mattered was that this was really happening. This was _actually fucking happening._

“No, no, no,” The words continued to jump from his mouth, rolling off his tongue nonstop, as if they would make anything better, but Dean couldn't find it in himself to try and stop them, even if he knew they would make no difference whatsoever, “It’s too early. Too early. Please, don’t… No…”

“Dean, what exactly are you feeling?” Crowley’s voice came from beside him again, and Dean realized then that the demon might not know what was happening to him, or maybe he just wanted to confirm it.

“I’m having contractions,” he breathed out, voice breaking at the last word because it hurt so much to fucking say it. It made this even more _real._ “I’m… I’m losing them.” He was already tearing up, voice shaking, trembling as it all really sunk in,

But he didn’t hear what the demon said in response, even if the hunter did hear his voice a moment later. Another wave of pain came, even stronger than the previous ones, and he was instantly back to curling up on the couch, teeth gritted tightly together for only a moment before his eyes squeezed shut as he screamed out in pain once more. One single thought was playing on a loop inside his head, and it _hurt_. Fuck, it hurt so much _,_ like a fist gripping at his heart and squeezing it until it fucking  _popped,_ but there was nothing he could do to stop any of it.

He might have just lost Cas, and he was about to lose their baby.

***~*~*~*~***

**In reality, it all happened too quickly;**  in just a few seconds, really. And yet Sam still felt like the entire scene played in slow motion right before his eyes.

The entire room erupted in light the moment Jacob activated the banishing symbol, a big, strong wall of energy flying through the air and washing over everything around them, bathing the entire room in light, and Sam lifted his arms to block the brightness before it melted his eyes right out of their sockets as soon as he felt the heat.

He heard the sound of something falling, of metal hitting the polished floor somewhere to his right just a few steps away, most likely Cas’ Angel Blade. It clattered loudly against the hard floor where the angel had been standing as its owner was probably no longer there to hold it.

And of course, when Sam opened his eyes, Cas was gone.

He didn’t think. He didn’t even know how he’d moved so fast, but in the next moment he’d tucked away his gun and was already digging Cas’ blade into Jacob’s chest, twisting it for good measure. The Styne was still alive, even after all the shots they’d hit him with, even if most of those had hit him squarely on the chest, which only proved the fact that he wasn’t even fully human.

Sam should have gone for the head, he realized it now. Or maybe that also wouldn’t have made much of a difference; he had no way to know.

But it was too late for that now.

“My family…” Jacob breathed out, coughing, blood pooling into his mouth, and Sam was happy to realize that maybe this would be enough to kill him. At least he hoped so. He twisted the blade again, both to make sure that the Styne would die and that it would hurt, taking a sick satisfaction at how the man in his hold let out a pained grunt when he did it. “They... they’ll come for the Book. And for... for the hybrid. Don’t think… for even a second… that they won’t.”

Sam did not bother to respond, no matter how much those words got to him, or how worried he knew he should be about them. Instead, he simply dug the blade even deeper, jaw clenching as he held the other man’s gaze unwaveringly, engaging in some sort of a twisted staring contest, until finally he felt Jacob’s body go lax in his hold, and he simply let the man fall to the floor at his feet, pulling the blade out from his chest as he went.

He stared down at the Styne for only a moment, satisfied to see him gone, but then a second later he realized they didn’t have time for gloating, so he was quick to dig into his pockets, looking for his phone.

**It started ringing before he could even unlock the screen.**

“Crowley,” Sam breathed into the device, only then sending a glance over at Charlie, who was staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. “We need you to—”

A scream.

Sam heard it clearly through the speakers. It was loud; a sound of pure agony, and it was so obviously Dean’s voice that it instantly made Sam's blood run cold.

This was bad. This was so very bad _._

They shouldn’t have stayed. They should have left when they’d had the chance to.

_“You had one thing to do. **One thing.** Now please tell me Castiel is not dead.”_

“I—I don’t…” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head as he looked over at the banishing symbol. It was almost as if it was mocking them from the spot where it was painted on the wall, silently watching the chaos it had just created. Sam felt the urge to cover it up, to scratch it off that damn wall, but that would be ridiculous, and he shook his head at the thought. Swallowing, he took in a deep breath, feeling his heart heavier inside his chest, as though suddenly it had been turned into lead. “I don’t know.”

He hated how true those words were. He hated the doubt swelling up in his chest. He hated how he had no way to fix any of this.

Fuck. _Fuck._

_"The Mark is hurting him. He’s in **agony** right now. What did you morons even **do**?”_

Sam took in another breath, letting it out shakily before he managed to say, “Cas got banished.”

He was expecting to hear a low curse of some sort, or at least for the demon to call him an idiot for going through with Cas' plan, but he didn't hear Crowley's response because Dean was screaming again, loud and very close to the phone, and Sam couldn't help but flinch at the sound. He wanted to ask what was happening, to demand answers, but he was pretty sure the demon might not even be able to hear him right now, so he paused, waiting, anxiety and worry flooding his insides like a waterfall. Eventually he heard Dean’s cries grow lower and then abruptly stop, and his heart skipped a beat inside his chest because he had no idea what that meant; whether that was a good or a bad thing.

He heard voices talking next, and while he couldn't make out what they were saying, he decided to take that as a good sign.

“Crowley, what’s wrong with him?” he finally demanded.

The demon ignored him, and more talking happened for a beat, until suddenly Dean was screaming again, and for yet another pause that was all Sam could hear. He closed his eyes, feeling every single one of those screams like a stab to his chest, each one making his heart even heavier because he knew this was his fault. He should be there with Dean right now. They should have left this place as soon as they'd known Dean was safe.

Eventually the screams stopped again, but Sam was pretty sure that meant very little. They might just start up again very soon. He heard rushed voices again, but once more he couldn't make out what they were saying, all he knew was that he could definitely hear Dean talking again, so that was good. That meant Dean could at least speak; that he was alive, at least, and maybe even coherent.

His relief did not last very long, though. Just a moment later Dean was screaming again and Sam’s heart picked up its pace, beating even more frantically inside his chest as he realized that whatever was causing this really wouldn't just stop, and he still had no idea what exactly was wrong with Dean in the first place.  _What the hell was going on?_

“Crowley?!”

“He’s in labor.”

Sam jumped at the sound of Crowley’s voice coming not from the phone he had pressed against his ear, but from right before him, where the demon was now standing. The hunter didn’t even get a chance to reply to that or even let those words truly register in his mind before the demon was snapping his fingers and the world was spinning around him.

In a second they were in the cabin in Vancouver; Sam quickly recognized the familiar living room he’d spent a few hours in earlier that same day when they were getting the place warded, but any disorientation he might have felt because of the sudden change in scenery around him was gone only a moment later as soon as his brain actually registered what was happening there.

His brother was on the couch, and while he wasn’t screaming anymore as he had been on the phone, his breathing was clearly ragged, heavy and labored. His arm was wrapped around his middle and his body was bent forward, like that was where the pain he was feeling was coming from, which Sam knew was the case here if he really was in labor.

_Early labor._

Sam closed the distance between them in three big strides, dropping Cas' blade onto the coffee table and lowering his body as soon as he got to Dean, bending his knees to fall onto them in front of the couch. It hurt, the impact a lot more than what he’d expected, but he ignored it, because Dean needed him right now; his brother was in a lot more pain than that, so Sam had no right to complain.

He knew what was happening here, and as soon as that thought truly registered in his mind he felt his stomach sink down to his feet. Cas had just been banished with borrowed Grace, and Sam still had no idea if the angel was even alive right now, so of course this would hurt Dean as well. And Dean wasn’t even showing yet; he was only a few months along, so if he really was in labor right now, then that had to mean… It could only mean that…

Dean was losing the baby.

“Dean,” He gripped his brother’s arm, but Dean didn’t look up at him; he didn’t even move, just keep groaning lowly to himself with his eyes closed, face scrunched up in pain. Sam was pretty sure he might not even have noticed him at all. “Dean, please,” He squeezed his brother’s arm even tighter, demanding his attention, “Look at me. I’m here.”

That seemed to get his brother’s attention, as finally Dean lifted his head to look at him, but his eyes were unfocused, wild, like he wasn’t quite hearing what Sam was saying or even truly seeing him at all. Sam had never seen such a _haunted_ look on his brother’s face, so much that he was actually surprised by it, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. Dean's eyes were actually shining with tears, and the single sight of it was enough to render Sam completely quiet.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” Dean’s voice was shaky, breathy, heavy with emotion, trembling and cracking as he spoke, “I didn’t tell you… I didn’t…” He closed his eyes, letting out a low groan, and for a moment Sam was sure the pain was about to come back. But it didn’t, and Dean simply let out what looked like a steadying breath before opening his eyes again. "I'm so sorry."

Fuck, Sam had no idea what to do. What could he do? What could they—

And then Dean was screaming again.

It was such a loud sound, and it was so much worse to hear it in person; to actually watch Dean's entire body tense up as it happened, to see pain flood his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. His screams were terrible, painful, so clearly filled with nothing but pure agony, ripping out of Dean’s throat in such a way that Sam knew it must hurt as well. Dean’s entire body was trembling, and he curled up even more around his own stomach with every second that passed. Sam winced at the sight, letting his hand fall from Dean's arm, feeling completely helpless as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Crowley’s voice was what made Sam snap out of it. “If I were you, I would get that damn archangel here, _now._ ”

Yeah. Right. Gabriel. Gabriel could help, couldn't he?

They had to try.

His eyes slipped shut without another thought. “Gabriel, if you can hear me, I don’t care what you’re doing or where the hell you are right now, we… Dean needs you here, now. He’s…” He let out a shaky breath, figuring there was only one way he would get the archangel here fast enough, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words hanging from the tip of his tongue out loud just yet, so he fell quiet for a short beat. He kept his eyes closed, as if that would help in any way; as if somehow that would make their odds of the archangel actually answering his prayer higher, as ridiculous as that was.

But there was no response, nothing at all, so he let his eyes slide open.

He met Charlie’s eyes, just then realizing that at some point she had moved to stand beside the couch and had one hand resting on Dean’s shoulder. Her eyes were wide, the look in them loaded, heavy, coated with such a clear hint of panic that it had him pausing, and that told Sam she must be feeling just as helpless as he was right then. He swallowed as the image registered in his mind, and the single sight of it was enough to punch the words right out of his mouth.

“He’s losing the baby.”

Dean had taken another pause in his screaming by then, and apparently he was able to hear those words clearly, because his head shot up abruptly, eyes wide as he met Sam’s again, since of course Dean still didn’t know they knew. Cas had repeated it over and over again to Crowley earlier—the demon hadn't been supposed to tell Dean that Sam and Charlie knew about the baby while he rescued him, because that could stress Dean out, and they couldn’t take that risk.

Clearly that hadn’t made a difference, though.

“You…” Dean tried to speak, but the word seemed to get caught in his throat.

“We know, Dean,” Sam whispered, and his brother turned his head to glance at Charlie, who gave him a sort, reassuring nod as she squeezed his shoulder. He turned back to Sam, eyes still shocked and filled with something way too close to fear. Sam lifted his hand at the sight and squeezed Dean’s other shoulder, as if somehow he’d be able to give his brother some sort of comfort in any way. Fuck, this wasn’t how they’d been supposed to do this. “Cas told us. He… he kinda had to.”

If possible, Dean’s eyes got even wider, and he opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by a pained groan that quickly turned into another pained scream, so whatever he’d been about to say died in his throat.

“What the hell did you _do_?”

Sam jumped, startled, turning his head to the side and finding none other than Gabriel standing beside him. The archangel lowered himself in front of Dean, all but shoving Sam to the side as he kneeled down before the couch, and Sam moved to give him space close to Dean without even thinking, without a fight, because even with the reservations they all had towards Gabriel, with their doubts about whether or not they could really trust him, if he could do something, _anything_ to help Dean right now, then that was all that truly mattered.

They were out of options.

Sam heard a snarl coming from somewhere to the side, and he jumped a little again. He’d honestly forgotten about Juliet, but well, he couldn’t actually _see_ her, so it wasn’t really his fault.

For a moment he was actually afraid she might attack Gabriel, but Crowley was quick to mutter something in that weird language he spoke in with her—a command, the Winchester assumed—and the growling stopped.

“Cas was banished,” Sam explained once the hellhound grew quiet, “And now Dean’s… He's...” He couldn’t get himself to finish that.

The incredulous look Gabriel gave him a second later was a clear reminder of how serious this was; of how badly they had screwed up on this one, and he swallowed drily, not quite managing to let out any more words.

“He’s in labor,” Charlie offered for him, and Gabriel looked truly surprised to hear those words from her, probably because they weren’t supposed to know Dean was pregnant at all, but Charlie ignored the look the archangel gave her completely. It occurred to Sam then Charlie that had never actually met Gabriel before. “Is there anything you can do?”

Gabriel didn’t bother to asnwer her, instead looking away from her and moving forward to tug Dean’s arm away from where it was still wrapped protectively around his stomach so he could rest his palm over the human’s belly.

Dean’s eyes rose to meet Gabriel’s for a second, filled with something very much close to panic, before he closed them shut, another scream tearing out of his lips, this one sounding so much stronger and painful than before. The pain must be getting worse.

With his other hand, Gabriel reached into his coat, pulling out something small from inside and handing it to Sam, and the hunter took it from him without thinking.

“Heat water until it boils and then put this in it. Open it and add one at a time, but wait a bit between each one for them to fully dissolve. Start with the green one,” the archangel instructed as Sam looked down at his hand to find himself staring at a small dark purple bag. It looked like a hex bag, honestly, but he knew that wasn’t what this was. It was way too big, for one. He frowned down confusedly at it for a beat, and when Gabriel realized Sam was hesitating, the archangel added a harsh, “Now, Samuel!”

Without another thought, Sam pushed his doubts about what he was holding away for now and just let his body move on its own accord, because he had no time for questions—Dean and the baby couldn’t wait, he told himself harshly as finally he managed to force himself to leave Dean’s side and get back to his feet, rushing over to the door that led to the kitchen. Before he left the living room, though, he glanced back at the group, realizing that Charlie had scooted even closer to Dean, laying a hand on his arm, and was currently whispering words Sam couldn’t hear but that he was sure were meant to soothe his brother.

Crowley was there as well now, and Sam heard Gabriel saying something to the demon, voice low and steady, though the hunter couldn’t make out the words from where he was standing. He had no idea what the exchange was about, but it had Crowley nodding at the archangel and gripping Dean’s arm, and Sam had no idea what he intended to do then.

And then Gabriel’s hand—the one he still had pressed against Dean’s middle—lit up with power, the light from his Grace so bright it hurt, and Sam had to look away, squinting his eyes to find his way into the kitchen. He really hoped Charlie had closed her eyes.

The water took way too long to boil. Even from another room, Sam could still see the light, and with every second that passed, with every breath that left his lungs, he felt his anxiety growing, his heart beating even more painfully in his chest. Not wishing to waste any time while he waited for the water to boil, he opened the small bag to take a look at what was inside, spreading its contents over the table, and he realized then that the items he found in the bag must be the ingredients for some kind of spell, though he’d never seen any of these before. They had been prepared, too; Gabriel had apparently gotten whatever he could get done beforehand out of the way and left everything ready to go when necessary.

Sam was very thankful for that.

The green thing looked like a small little rock, but it actually felt very fragile as he ran his finger over it, like it might break apart if he applied too much pressure. He had no idea what it was. There was also a small glass with a black liquid concealed inside, a bunch of small little yellow fruits that looked like berries, although Sam was pretty sure that wasn’t what those were, and another small glass, this one containing some sort of weird powder that looked way too much like grinded bone, so Sam didn’t examine it too much.

At last, the water boiled.

He turned off the stove and added everything into the jar—the green little rock, which dissolved as soon as it hit the water, then the fruits, the liquid, and finally the grinded powder, waiting a few seconds in between each ingredient to make sure it had dissolved properly, and by the end of it he had a weirdly clear blue mixture. Much to his surprise, once he touched the jar he realized it felt cold to the touch, much colder than he would have expected, almost like there was ice inside, which was very odd, considering he'd just boiled the water.

He didn't have the time to dwell on it, though. He shouldn't be asking questions; he should be taking this back to Gabriel. He wasn’t sure what the archangel wanted to do with this, but he hoped Dean wouldn’t have to drink it. Regardless, he got a glass from the cabinet over the sink and took everything to the living room.

He had to stop by the door, though, closing his eyes shut as his steps halted.

“Gabriel, I can’t see,” he said into the light, waiting for a beat, until finally the intense brightness faded behind his eyelids, enough so that he believed he could finally open his eyes. His vision was still stained, balls of color that didn’t actually belong to his surroundings dancing right before his eyes, but he didn’t let that stop him, instead making his legs take him forward even with his balance very much compromised.

“Pour it into the glass,” Gabriel instructed before he got to them, and Sam did it as he walked, even more surprised to realize that the mixture truly did feel icy cold inside the glass, and it was much bluer than it had looked like inside the jar.

He handed the glass to Gabriel before he sunk back down to his knees, and the archangel hurried to tug at Dean’s shoulder with his free hand. “Dean, I need you to sit up.”

Dean whined, but at least he didn’t seem to be in as much pain anymore, which Sam assumed had to mean he wasn’t having a contraction right now. Either that or whatever Gabriel had been doing up until now had worked, at least to some degree. The pain would come back soon, Sam knew that, but at least Dean seemed to be semi-lucid in between contractions, enough so that his brother even started to try to sit back up on his own. Sam and Charlie had to help him, though, wounding their arms behind his back and giving him the support he needed until he was sitting up straight again. Crowley didn’t let go of Dean's arm as they did it, not even for a second, and it was only then that Sam realized he looked a little tired. Sam wondered what he had been doing until now, and he could only assume the demon had been helping Gabriel in whatever the archangel had been trying to do.

And wasn’t _that_ a weird thought.

Dean was panting, a thin layer of sweat already coating his skin, glistening in the light of the room. His eyes were wide, even more frightened and panicked than before. He looked truly awful, and the single sight of him was actually heartbreaking, but there was nothing else Sam could do other than simply wait and hope that Gabriel could fix this.

The archangel brought the glass up to his brother’s lips, and Dean lifted a hand to hold it, although his grip seemed unsteady and shaky, so much that Gabriel didn't fully let go of the glass, probably in fear that Dean would drop it. “You have to drink this, Dean. Slow, big gulps, alright?”

Dean nodded, and then closed his eyes as either him or Gabriel tipped the glass; Sam wasn’t sure which one as they were both holding it.

Dean coughed as soon as the first mouthful hit his throat, some of the blue liquid quickly sliding down his chin, color vibrant against his skin, but Gabriel’s hand shot up and lifted Dean's head by pushing at his chin a little so no more could find its way out of his mouth.

“You have to swallow, Dean. I know it tastes like crap, but you know you have to.”

Dean closed his eyes again, and his coughing grew lighter as he pressed his lips together to try and keep what remained of the liquid from flowing out of his mouth. It still took him a few seconds, but at some point he finally managed to swallow it all. He made a face as he did it, eyes squeezing shut in clear displeasure, but that was all.

He reached for the glass again, and slowly but steadily he drank about half of its contents without incident.

Until his entire body froze again without a warning, some of the mixture slipping right out of his mouth and onto the couch as Dean folded in on himself again, arm wrapping around his middle once more, another pained shout tearing right out of his lips, and in the next second he started coughing again, choking because there was still some of the liquid in his mouth that he'd probably just tried to swallow.

“That will have to do,” Gabriel shoved the glass back into Sam’s hands, “We don’t have time.” He pushed Dean back a lot more gently than Sam would have expected from the archangel, pulling the hunter's arm away from his belly so he could rest both hands onto Dean’s stomach, completely ignoring how Dean was still letting out small, low coughs that he seemed to be trying to hold back, and fortunately his brother had enough presence of mind that he didn’t fight the movement, instead simply letting his arms fall to his sides so his hands could claw at the cushions beside him, knuckles turning white with the effort.

Sam’s heart hurt at the sight, and once more he hoped with everything he had that this would work.

“You hold off the Mark,” Gabriel shot Crowley a glance, “I can’t do both at once.”

The demon simply nodded.

Gabriel’s hand lit up again, and Sam had to close his eyes once more, this time actually lifting his arm to cover his eyes, glass long forgotten by his side on the floor. He heard Juliet whine a few steps to the side from where he was, and for a moment Sam wondered if the angelic light bothered her somehow. He guessed it did.

He could hear words, Gabriel’s voice low and constant as he muttered what Sam could only assume was a spell, although the words were completely foreign to him. He was pretty sure it wasn’t even Enochian, or anything he recognized, for that matter.

In midst of the spell, though, he understood a few sentences.

“Dean, you have to stay with me. You can’t pass out. Keep your eyes closed, but stay with me.”

Sam could only hope Dean could do it.

It lasted for a lot longer than Sam had expected it to, although he didn’t know what exactly Gabriel was doing. But as curious as he was about what was happening right in front of his eyes, Sam just waited in silence, afraid that if he said anything right now he might mess up what both Crowley and Gabriel were doing, and that was something he definitely should not do.

The light stopped before the spell. Sam saw the brightness dim quickly, and he opened his eyes as soon as he thought he could, even though Gabriel’s chanting did not stop for even a second. Just like before, his vision took a while to adapt, and once he could see clearly again he found that the light coming from Gabriel's hand had not vanished completely, but it was a lot weaker than before, enough so that Sam could keep his eyes open as long as he wasn't looking directly at it.

Gabriel’s eyes were closed in concentration, a crease visible between his browns. His lips moved quickly and with precision, pronouncing the words of the spell without pause. Both Charlie and Crowley also had their eyes closed, and briefly Sam wondered if Juliet was looking away as well, maybe even hiding behind the couch or something to try and block out the light somehow. He had no way to know.

Dean’s eyes were also closed, and it was suddenly obvious why Gabriel had insisted that he had to stay awake, because Dean really looked just about to pass out at any second now. His muscles were loose, head fallen to the side, breathing ragged, wheezy even, as apparently it was taking a lot of effort for him to breathe. Charlie had gripped his hand at some point, but his hold on her seemed weak, and it was clear that he wouldn't manage to keep holding on if she let go.

**Finally, the chanting stopped.**

As soon as the words stopped tumbling from his mouth, Gabriel let himself fall backwards so he could actually sit down on the floor, and once he did his entire body immediately sagged in what Sam could only read as exhaustion. His breathing was actually a little bit heavy; he wasn't panting by any means, but he did seem to be a bit out of breath, and he actually let his head hang a little lower for a moment, keeping his eyes closed as he seemed to try and catch his breathing. He also looked pale, and once more Sam was surprised by the length through which the archangel had just gone to help them. It was becoming oddly clear that maybe they shouldn’t have doubted him the way they had before.

Crowley was quite a bit paler as well, and finally he let his hand fall from Dean's arm. The demon also looked pretty much exhausted, a telltale sign of just how much power he had spent to help fighting the Mark and stopping the contractions, and wasn’t that an even bigger surprise.

It took a beat for anyone to actually say anything.

“You’re fine,” Gabriel finally lifted his head, his breathing now a lot more steady, and Dean finally seemed able to open his eyes to stare at the archangel, a clear question in his gaze, like he was still waiting to hear something. The panic in his eyes hadn’t faded in the slightest.

Gabriel leaned forward to rest a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing it a little. “You’re _both_ fine.”

The relief Sam felt was instantaneous. They were fine. Dean and the baby were fine.

But what about Cas?

Those words seemed to be exactly what Dean had been waiting to hear. Pure relief took over Dean’s features for a moment as he closed his eyes, letting out a breath as finally some of his tension seemed to melt away, but then his body suddenly went limp without a warning, as if his muscles had simply given out right then and there. Both Sam and Charlie tried to hold him up, and as they carefully lowered him back onto the couch a moment later, the complete lack of response from Dean made it clear that he wasn’t conscious anymore.

Once Dean was safely lying down on the couch, Sam leaned away from him and closed his own eyes, letting out a breath as he lifted his hand to run it over his face, rubbing his eyes and trying to calm down his still very much racing heart. His body was still tense, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but he doubted he would manage to actually get himself to calm down anytime soon. His head was still spinning, still trying to actually process what had just happened here, but he felt oddly numb right then, mind still far too incoherent for him to think clearly enough for that.

When he opened his eyes again, Sam noticed Charlie had also lowered herself onto the floor by Dean's side, eyeing his brother with concern, as though she still needed to make sure he was fine. Crowley was sitting on the armchair to the side now, even though Sam had not seen or heard him move at all, and Sam noticed that he still looked pale and was actually panting a little. After a beat the demon looked down to the floor to his right, lifting his hand, and in the next moment he seemed to pet the empty space beside him, running his hand over what appeared to be nothing more than empty air. Juliet had moved closer to him, it seemed, and Sam could hear several low, sad whines coming from her. He assumed she had trotted over to make sure the demon was fine, which was all kinds of bizarre.

Gabriel wasn't out of breath anymore and he did seem to be regaining some color surprisingly fast, but Sam was pretty sure it would still take him a while longer to fully recover. The archangel hadn’t yet moved from Dean’s side, either; he was still watching the unconscious Winchester, almost like he expected the human to just wake up screaming in agony again. The look in his eyes was heavy and as Sam took in the sight of the archangel, he was once more surprised by just how truly exhausted he looked. He had used a lot of his power to save Dean, Cas and the baby, much more than Sam would have ever thought he would be willing to, and Sam had no idea what to make of it. Why was he doing this?

"What the hell happened here?” the archangel asked, finally turning his head and tearing his gaze away from Dean to give Sam a hard, demanding look.

The hunter swallowed drily at the sight. “Cas got banished,” he offered again, even though obviously Gabriel knew that already, “Dean was kidnapped, and we went to rescue him. But… things didn’t work out the way we’d planned it.”

Gabriel scoffed. “You know, I don’t know why I’m even surprised.” He moved to get back up to his feet then, and it was a really odd sight to see, watching the archangel's balance clearly waver, one hand moving quickly to support his weight as he gripped the edge of the coffee table beside him for support. As soon as he was back on his feet he looked like he was actually about to just topple over right back down to the floor, and yet he still seemed quite insistent on trying to stand up straight. The scene reminded Sam of that night back in Ohio, when the archangel had all but worn himself out to save Dean and Cas when the Mark had been lashing out after Cain was dead.

And save the baby, Sam now realized, remembering how Gabriel had pretty much completely fixated his attention on Dean’s stomach that night. Sam hadn't thought much of it back then, but now he realized the archangel had probably been protecting the baby against the Mark before it could make Dean go into labor. And later on, Cas had also immediately rested his hands on Dean's middle to check if the baby was fine as soon as he was awake.

Sam hadn't even realized how odd both actions had been back then, and now he just couldn't understand how he'd been so utterly oblivious to everything.

He really was blind, huh?

“Now, could you please kindly explain to me how this happened?” Gabriel’s harsh voice snapped Sam out of his thoughts, and he was surprised to see the archangel standing fully upright now. He had either recovered surprisingly quickly or he was just really good at hiding how weak he actually was right then. Sam was inclined to assume the latter might be the case here. “Because clearly you and Red over there know that Dean-o's eating for two now, so I’m assuming you would not have taken him on another hunt.”

Sam shook his head. “It wasn’t a hunt,” he was quick to point out, but even to himself his voice sounded weak, lacking confidence. This might not have been a hunt, but this mess was still mostly his fault. He still felt like he could have done something to prevent this; that if he had insisted maybe even just a tiny bit more when Dean had been bothered by the Mark back at the cabin in Branson then this could have all been avoided. Hell, if he'd fought Cas on his plan to go after Jacob once Dean was away from that house, then none of this would have happened.

“They got in the bad graces of the Styne family,” Crowley provided when Sam took too long to respond.

Now that actually earned the human a glare from the archangel. Disbelief bled into his voice freely as he asked, “Did you airheads really think it would be a good idea to mess with the Frankenstein family?”

“The Frank…” Sam paused, unsure if that was a joke or not, frowning as he waited for an explanation. The stormy, completely serious look on the archangel’s face told him this was no joke, but of course Sam still had to ask, “Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Gabriel scoffed, “Those guys are sick. Not the kind of people you'd want to mess with, though I'm pretty sure you must have figured that one out by yourselves already. They changed their name a while ago when they got famous. That’s all you need to know.” He shook his head, letting out a tired sigh that sounded way too much like an annoyed huff, “Now, let me guess—Cassie told me you have the Book of the Damned, so I’m guessing that’s why they came after you. I know they lost it a while ago. But of course you didn’t give it to them, so you let your guards down and they kidnapped Dean to make you give it over, and somehow you screwed up and Castiel got banished.”

Sam swallowed, nodding numbly. “Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty much it.”

The archangel scoffed again, shaking his head in clear annoyance. “Again, why am I not surprised?” He actually huffed this time, looking away from Sam so he could let his eyes scan the room, silently taking in the walls around them for a beat, a frown quickly settling in his brows. “This is some pretty heavy warding, too. Should I ask why it’s here?”

“Heaven knows about the baby,” Sam replied, voice even lower now, tentative even, careful as he knew Gabriel's reaction to his words was bound to be the opposite of good judging by what the hunter seen so far. “The Stynes ripped the amulet right off Dean’s neck when they got to him.”

Gabriel actually cursed at that, and if he had looked frustrated before, then Sam wasn’t even sure what to call the expression on his face right now.

“Are you serious?” he asked, voice growing louder, filled with disbelief.

“You didn’t hear it?” Charlie asked, “I mean, the angels talked about it on the radio thing. Cas heard it all in his head when it happened.”

“No, I turned that off a long time ago.” He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath. Sam didn't think he'd ever seen him this annoyed before. “Well, this just made everything much more complicated. And I’m also assuming your little Batcave is not safe anymore, either, if you’re hiding away here in the middle of Canada instead of holing up there.”

“No,” Sam replied, “Hannah, the angel who's in charge of Heaven now, she… she knows where the Bunker is.”

Gabriel shook his head again. “Fantastic.” He let out another sigh, and then suddenly he was stepping toward Charlie. “You’re warded against angels, Sam, but you, Red,” He kneeled down before the girl and lifted his hand, “Are not.”

He touched her chest quicker than Charlie could react, simply tapping the spot right below her collarbone for a short second with the tips of his fingers, and the girl yelped, jumping back a little in surprise. She lifted a hand to press it against the place where Gabriel’s fingers had been just a second later, eyes wide, but understanding flooded them quickly. “Dude, did you just mark my ribs?”

“Can’t have Heaven following you here. You should be fine with the warding, though, but we can’t be too careful now.”

“Will the angels really…?” Sam couldn’t even let the words out fully. Cas had already told them about this earlier, but somehow Sam felt like hearing it from an archangel would be different. He just couldn't help but hold on to the fragile, weak spark of hope somehow still flickering in his chest that maybe by some miracle Gabriel might know about something they could do that Cas didn’t, like a loophole, or any way of fixing this whole mess, as improbable as that was.

Something dark passed over Gabriel’s eyes, like a dark cloud had suddenly blocked all the light in them, and while Sam wasn’t sure how exactly he should read that change, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear.

So much for having hope.

“Nephilims are strictly forbidden. Dear ol’ Daddy was the one who ruled them out completely, so there’s no arguing with anyone about this. Heaven finds either one of them, the three of them are dead, because that’s what Dad told us to do. You find a nephilim, you kill it. Simple as that.”

Again, Sam knew that already; he'd heard all of this from Cas just a few hours ago, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear those words, especially coming from Gabriel.

“It’s just a baby,” Sam still tried, voice weak and carrying no fight at all, because he already knew what he would hear in response; he was very much aware that it was pointless to even try to argue about this right now, and yet the words still rolled off his tongue, “Cas said they didn't even mean for this to happen. They’re not…”

The dark look in Gabriel’s eyes remained, but it seemed to shift into something much sadder, softer, which was definitely an odd look to see on him.

“Their case is obviously different. Trust me, there's nothing that makes a natural hybrid like the one Dean's carrying a monster. It's really just a baby. And on top of that, Dean is perfectly healthy, in spite of everything. But the thing is,” He shook his head again, letting out another breath, and some of the tiredness the archangel must be feeling right then, but that he had apparently been trying to cover up until now, slipped into his voice as he spoke, “Heaven doesn’t care. They won’t hear. They won’t even give them a chance to talk. All Heaven cares about is their damn rules, and if a human and an angel made a nephilim, then to the Host that means they should both die. And they won’t stop now that they know another hybrid has been created. They will look for that baby, no matter how many centuries go by. They’ll go anywhere they have to, and they’ll spend however long they need to find them. They won’t rest until the three of them are dead. Trust me on that one.”

There was something about Gabriel’s tone that had Sam pausing—such a clear hint of something much heavier than frustration to his voice, much more than simple, plain annoyance lacing his words. He sounded almost bitter, as if there was a hidden meaning behind everything he'd just said that Sam couldn’t quite pinpoint, but somehow he just knew it was there.

It occurred to Sam then that it sounded like Gabriel was talking about something specific, and he wondered what sort of backstory might be hidden behind those words, because instantly he knew there was one. The archangel wouldn't be talking this way if there wasn't; wouldn't sound like he knew all of this from experience; like he was retelling something he'd lived through or at least watched happen firsthand.

Cas had said that Gabriel had told him their case was different from all the other past occurrences of nephilims; that this was the first time a hybrid had been conceived naturally, but for a moment Sam caught himself wondering if that was actually the truth. It wasn’t like the archangel would be above lying, of course not, and that could also explain why Gabriel was helping them at all. A personal vendetta, or maybe even revenge—either way, it made sense.

So could Gabriel have…? What could he...?

“How can you be so sure about all that?” The question was out of his mouth before Sam could really think it through, and only a second later it occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t his place to ask that—it wasn’t even the right time for a conversation like that, really—but his curiosity got the best of him in the end.

The same dark look from before was quickly back in Gabriel's eyes, now even more intense than before, and instantly Sam regretted having asked anything.

“It doesn’t matter,” the archangel answered curtly, tone sharp, a clear edge to his words that left absolutely no room for argument, “What truly matters is that this is the worst thing that could have possibly happened. Dean still has the Mark of Cain, Cas is still without his original Grace and now they have Heaven on their tails. This is literally worst case scenario.”

It really was, Sam got that, and once more the younger Winchester brother wondered how the hell Dean and Cas had been dealing with all this alone until now. He’d only known about the baby for a few hours and already he felt like this entire situation could very easily drive him mad. The guilt from what had happened earlier still weighed heavily on his shoulders, present in every thought that appeared in his mind now, all of it constantly accompanied by the insistent knowledge that they could very easily lose _everything_ at any second.

He shouldn’t have let Dean go for that drive back in Branson. He shouldn’t have let Cas come with them to the Stynes' mansion. They shouldn’t have stayed once Dean was safe. They shouldn’t have…

“Normally I would be against time travel. I mean, I've learned by now that it just makes everythig even messier, but Gabriel, couldn’t we…?” Maybe Sam could snap some sense into his earlier self and make sure this didn’t happen. It was the only thing he could come up with right then, anyway; the only solution that appeared in his mind.

Gabriel actually scoffed at him. “Do you have any idea how much power time travel takes?” He shook his head, giving the hunter an almost incredulous look. “I would need power from the Host, which I’ve been cut off from since I supposedly died years ago. That's the only reason why they never realized I'm still alive. And anyway, I doubt Heaven could still swing that kind of stuff. You have no idea how much weaker the Host has been since the Fall. The angels weren't the only ones affected by it. Things just aren’t the same anymore.”

Sam felt some of his hope deflate a little at those words, but he knew he shouldn't have been surprised by the answer. So instead of feeling disappointed that the idea of going back in time to try and fix this situation before everything had gone to hell had been so quickly discarded, he chose to focus on the fact that if the Host was in fact weaker than it had ever been before, then that meant that finding Dean and Cas should be a lot harder for them, and that thought made Sam feel a little better.

One part of that whole speech really stood out to him, though, and Sam couldn't help but frown in confusion as he asked, "So you're cut off from the Host? But shouldn't that mean that you're becoming...?"

"Human?" Gabriel scoffed, rolling his eyes at him, "Yeah, right. No, that's not what it means. If you're thinking about what happened to Cassie way back in the Apocalypse days, that's a different thing. Heaven used to be able to just... cut off angels so we could no longer use Heaven's power and slowly drain away our Grace's energy without letting us heal enough to recharge at all. If that goes on for long enough then yes, an angel will eventually become human. Cassie came really close to that, actually. That's one of the ways an angel can Fall. Me, on the other hand, well," He shrugged, "I just literally cut myself off from Heaven's energy signal, which means I'm going by my power alone. I'm limited, but I'm not being drained. I'm  simply not using the Host's energy so they don't notice me. I'm not Falling."

Oh, well, that made sense, and it did explain how Gabriel had stayed hidden from Heaven throughout the past few years. Sam would have thought the Host should have noticed him being alive by now, but if he really had cut himself off like that, then surely that would make it harder for Heaven to realize he was still around.

“What can we do, then?” Charlie asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room as Sam mulled over the new information, "About Heaven, I mean."

“Right now? Keep Dean hidden in here while I try to find Castiel before Heaven does. If…” He let out another breath, shoulders slumping a little, “If he’s even alive right now.”

Sam stood up a little straighter at that, shaking his head weakly before he actually managed to ask, “Could he…?”

“That banishing sigil should have killed him." Sam swallowed drily at the words, feeling each one of them like a punch to his chest. "Getting banished shouldn't be enough to do that normally, but without his actual Grace and as weak as Castiel has been as of late, and with the Mark to make it all even worse, the three of them should be dead right now. But I managed to stop Dean’s contractions, and that already is a good sign. That wouldn’t have happened if the bond had been completely severed. So… I’m guessing Castiel is alive, somehow. I have no idea how, though, and I’m not sure how long that’s going to last, so I have to find him, and fast, before Heaven does.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Crowley. “You staying?”

“No,” the demon replied, but after a pause he added, “But I’m leaving Juliet here.” Sam gave him a curious look, because he certainly hadn’t expected that from him, but Crowley simply gave the hunter an unimpressed look. “You need at least a fighting chance in case Heaven does find you here.”

Well, it did make sense, but Sam was still surprised that Crowley was actually considering leaving Juliet with them.

Before he could make any sort of comment or have any sort of reaction to it, though, Gabriel turned back to look at him, eyes dead serious, which was enough to render Sam quiet. “Keep an eye on him,” He gestured at Dean with his hand, “He wakes up in pain, groans, or as much as _whines_ , you pray to me, okay?”

Sam swallowed drily at the implication of those words, but nodded nonetheless.

“Could it happen again?” Charlie asked the question Sam couldn’t make himself voice.

Gabriel nodded. “Very easily. When Castiel got banished, the blow was a lot more than Dean’s body could handle, especially because with another angel’s Grace, Cassie didn’t have the power to block it on his end in any way. And that threw Dean into an early labor."

"Jacob, the Styne who banished Cas, said something about different planes," Sam pointed out, "About how getting banished... cuts the angel off from Earth."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "He wasn't wrong. Every angel has... their own natural plane of existence. It's where our wings stay. It's like... we exist both there and here on Earth at the same time. So when we get banished, we're forced out of Earth's plane and into our own, and that's what knocks us out for a while. Jumping planes voluntarily isn't hard or painful, but the sigil literaly blasts us away and cuts us off from Earth, so it's a little more violent."

"But if Cas is cut off, what does that do to the bond?" Charlie inquired, "I mean, Cas said it couldn't be broken or else the baby would die. So how could...?"

"Both Dean and the nephilim have access to Castiel's natural plane because of the bond, and that means that even with Castiel cut off from Earth, the bond is not severed. But the connection did take quite a hit, because Dean and the nephilim are still at least part human, so they are naturally bound to Earth as well. And that's exactly what the Mark took advantage of. And with Cas is still out there, with the connection still so strained and weak, the Mark could try to make Dean lose the baby again, because that’s what it’s been trying to do since the very beginning. Your brother is carrying something that’s half-angel, so I’m assuming you can imagine something like the Mark of Cain cannot be too happy about that. And if an early labor goes on for much longer than what happened here earlier, both Dean and the baby will die.”

It made sense, it really did, but those words were truly painful to hear. So the Mark had been trying to kill the baby for months now?

Every time Sam heard some new piece of information he realized just how much more complicated their situation truly was. Honestly, he had no idea how they were even going to fix any of this. He didn't even know if it could be done. He’d never felt so helpless before, so completely lost on how to proceed, on how to even _begin_  to try and fix the situation, not even during the freaking Apocalypse, and that was saying something.

“Fortunately I was prepared,” Gabriel continued, “An early labor has been a risk for them since the very beginning, so I've had a few counter spells ready for months now, just in case. The one I used today pretty much isolated the nephilim from the Mark momentarily, which let me slow down the contractions enough so that it was possible to fight the Mark and eventually stop them completely. But miscarriage is still a possibility here, and while that Mark is still on Dean’s arm and Castiel still does not have his original Grace, I’m afraid that risk will remain.”

Sam swallowed drily at those words, lifting a hand to run it over his growing beard as he let it all sink in. "But Dean... he was having contractions for a long time," he pointed out, "I mean, couldn't that have hurt the baby?"

Much to his relief, Gabriel shook his head. "No, the baby's fine." Sam felt his chest grow a little lighter at those words. "There's enough of Cassie's Grace in Dean to protect the nephilim, so at first all the harm is actually done to him and not the baby. The actual problem is what would have come afterwards, if the contractions hadn't stopped when they did."

Sam swallowed drily, but somehow managed to ask, "Meaning?"

"Dean would die first, and then because of that so would the baby."

The words rendered Sam completely quiet, feeling like sharp knives were stabbing at his heart. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything in response; couldn't possibly find his voice, so he said nothing.

Gabriel didn't seem to have been expecting a response from him, anyway. “I’ll have to go look for Castiel now, so I need you to watch Dean. I still don’t know just how much damage that banishing sigil did, but we have to find out quickly."

Sam wanted to argue. He didn’t want Gabriel to leave right now, because he was worried that something might happen to Dean while the archangel was gone, but he also knew that Gabriel had a point—they had to find Cas, and fast, before things got even worse. If Heaven found Cas before they did, then everything would be lost.

Slowly, the hunter nodded, “Yeah, okay. We’ll take care of him.”

Gabriel nodded, looking satisfied with the anwer, and then he was gone, the sound of his wings beating through the air lingering for only a few seconds before it faded away.

The silence that followed the archangel's departure was heavy, and Sam suddenly felt the weight on his shoulders even heavier than before. Their situation was even worse than he had previously thought, and he was still having quite a problem processing everything. Honestly, he was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Dean was even pregnant at all, so how the hell was he supposed to deal with all of this? Even if he was somewhat managing to force his mind to cooperate for now, to actually allow him to try to think about viable plans, about what they could possibly do right now to try and fix this mess, he still felt as though none of this was actually real.

Letting himself fall onto the couch armrest, since Dean was taking up the entire thing and he didn’t want to move or jolt his brother right now, Sam dropped his head to his hands. He let out another tired breath, burying his fingers in his hair and tugging at the strands.

He really had no idea what to do right now, chest feeling worryingly tight, shoulders tense and heavy with the weight of everything that was happening.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Moose.”

Sam looked up at the sound of Crowley’s voice, finding that the demon was now standing, straightening his suit. He already looked a lot better than he had just a few minutes ago, although there was still a small hint of paleness to his skin. Sam still found it hard to believe Crowley had used so much of his power to save Dean and the baby, but then again, the whole Knight of Hell card was still on the table, so in the end it kind of made sense.

Kind of.

“Those two have been tempting fate way more than it would be prudent in their situation. I’m surprised things did not go south sooner.”

Sam let out a huff, for some reason feeling annoyed because of the comment, but he knew it was true nonetheless. Dean going hunting, the whole thing with Cain, taking on the Stynes—Dean and Cas had really made quite a few bad choices lately that could have had much worse results, even if they really were in no position to do anything of the sort with their lives literally tied together, much less with Dean actually pregnant.

But that didn’t mean Sam wasn’t guilty as well. A big part of the blame for what had happened tonight was to be placed on his shoulders, and the single thought of it was suffocating.

“You’re really leaving Juliet here?” Sam decided to ask, choosing not to comment on what was really on his mind right then.

Crowley gave him a weak shrug, fortunately not commenting on the sudden change of subject. “I have a lot of hellhounds, and she won’t be hostile to you. She seems to have taken quite a… liking to your brother, so she’ll be protective enough.” He turned his gaze down as he said it, muttering a couple of words in that weird language again, and Sam heard the invisible hound whine, heavy paws thumping against the floor and claws scratching against the wood beneath them, but he had no idea what the thing was actually doing.

Another handful of words from Crowley and Juliet grew quiet.

Sam could easily tell what would be happening next as he watched the demon straightening up even more, clearly ready to just vanish as usual, and the hunter didn’t even think before blurting out, “Crowley, wait.”

The demon paused, lifting a curious eyebrow at the human.

The words took a moment to actually leave his mouth, and he had to swallow once before he actually managed to let them out. But he knew he should say them. He felt like he owed the demon as much, anyway.

“Thank you,” he said, “For, you know…”

He didn’t finish it, but he knew there was no need to.

Crowley considered him silently for a moment, that ever-present bored look in his eyes lingering for most of the pause, but it did shift eventually. It was an odd sight to see, but for only a moment, the expression on the demon’s face looked actually genuine as he gave Sam a slow, tiny nod.

“Just don’t screw this up even more than you already have.”

And then he was gone.

Sam huffed, because really he shouldn’t have expected any less from the demon, so he just shook off the last comment. He glanced down at his unconscious brother again, realizing then that it really would be better to move him from this couch to one of the beds in this place, because that would be way more comfortable for him, but Sam was honestly afraid of jolting him too much to do it, because maybe that might be enough to send his brother into early labor again, so maybe it would be best to just leave him here until he woke up.

Early labor. Dean had gone into an  _early labor._ He'd actually almost  _miscarried._ His brother had almost lost the baby, and it had been Sam’s fault. Dean and the baby had almost died right before his eyes because of his poor judgement, and they still could if Cas didn’t make it through this.

“Crowley’s right, you know.”

Sam jumped a little, and his head snapped up to look at Charlie, who was now lifting herself from the floor so she could stand beside the couch by Dean’s head. He had no idea how to read the look in her eyes, though—it was sad, and heavy, but there was something else to it that Sam had no idea how to name.

“It’s not your fault, Sam. It’s no one’s fault, really.”

He swallowed, looking down at his hands as those words echoed inside his head for a moment, but he couldn’t quite make himself believe them. The weight over his heart was still there, insistent, solid as a rock, and just a handful of words would not be enough to send it away.

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” he breathed out, voice low and weak, letting his entire body sag back against the couch. He didn’t feel like arguing about this, no matter how strongly he disagreed with her. He was tired, exhausted even, and all he wanted to do now was fall onto any flat surface and pass out right then and there.

But he couldn’t do that. He had to watch Dean and wait for Gabriel to come back. He couldn’t rest until he knew that Cas was actually still alive, because if he wasn’t…

He pushed that thought away as soon as it entered his mind.

“You’re not… mad at them, right?” Sam frowned at Charlie for a beat, not sure what she’d meant by that, and she shrugged lightly, “For not telling us… you, about the baby before all of this.”

Sam took a beat to respond, looking away from her and down at his hands again. He let out another sigh, shaking his head weakly. “Honestly, a part of me thinks I should be mad at them. I mean, this isn’t… this isn’t something small or unimportant. This changes _everything_ , in so many ways.” Because things would never be the same in their lives after this. This was a true game changer, without a single doubt. Also, Dean had been pregnant since the end of _January,_ and okay, Dean and Cas hadn’t been aware of the pregnancy at first, but they had known about the baby for almost  _four months_ now, so really, they’d had more than enough time to come clean with them about this.

And yet, Sam just couldn't really find it in himself to be mad at them for not doing it.

He let out another breath as he tried to organize his thoughts on the matter. His mind was still a little too muddled for his liking, but he guessed that would linger for a while. It wasn't a surprise, anyway, after everything they'd just dealt with. "But I know my brother. I mean, he hid his own sexuality from me for so many years, even though I never gave him any reason to even think I could possibly have something against that, and I could see how coming clean and telling me about him and Cas was hard for him. He struggled so much that night. This stuff just doesn’t come easy to Dean, it never did, so it’s... it's not much of a surprise to me that this would work out the same way.”

He glanced down at his still unconscious brother as he said the last part, and images of Dean curling up on that couch, arm wrapped protectively around his middle, flashed in his mind. He could almost still hear the screams, and he felt a chill running down the spine at the memory.

“This whole thing is suffocating,” he blurted out, “Everything is just… working against them, and it’s so fucking unfair. I’m still trying to process everything, and I can’t even imagine what this must feel like for them. This is my niece or nephew, and already to me this whole thing is pretty much overwhelming, but this is their _child._ I just have no idea how they’ve been doing this alone until now, and I don’t… I don’t think I even have the right to be mad at them right now.”

“Honestly,” Charlie started, and Sam looked back up at her at the sound, “I have no idea how they’re still… I mean, I can’t even imagine how hard this is for them, to just... constantly be afraid to lose the baby like this.” She shook her head softly, eyes falling back to rest on Dean, “And you’re right, I mean… Right now, support is all they need, and all we should give them. They’re really gonna need it.”

All Sam could make himself do was nod in response. He really couldn't have said it better himself.

With another sigh, Sam looked back over at Dean, noticing that, just as he remembered, his brother still wasn’t showing, at least not enough so that it stood out. There was just nothing different about Dean; nothing that immediately gave it away. There had been signs, Sam knew that now, but physically nothing had changed in his brother. But wasn’t he like, almost five months along now? Shouldn’t he be showing already, at least a little bit? Sam couldn’t see anything, no bump at all under Dean’s shirt, but he didn’t lift it to check, feeling that would be crossing a boundary.

Dean hadn’t told him about the baby himself, so of course Sam would be hesitant to do that.

_Pregnant._

That word wouldn’t go away; wouldn’t stop echoing inside his head, playing on a constant loop, endlessly bouncing off the walls inside his skull even more insistently now that Sam could actually take a pause and think about this. Dean was right in front of him, and yet his brain couldn’t really process the fact that inside his brother, right there, right in front of him, was a _baby_. Dean and Cas’ _baby._

It was too surreal.

And that was coming from someone who had dealt with the supernatural, with the weird, impossible to explain stuff throughout his entire life, so that was really saying something.

There were still so many questions in his mind right then; countless doubts that had been piling up in his head since the moment Cas had first told them about the pregnancy. Cas had barely even scratched the surface earlier, and Sam hadn’t exactly had a chance to get much out of Gabriel and Crowley either, so really, he was still pretty much in the dark about this.

He wanted to know how this worked, how this was even possible in the first place, because Cas had simply said his Grace would take care of everything that needed to be done to allow Dean to actually carry a child, but Sam still had no idea how that actually happened. He wanted to know what the differences were between this and a normal human pregnancy. He wanted to know more about nephilims, about why they had been forbidden by God Himself, about why Heaven wanted Dean and Cas dead because of a baby. What kind of creatures were nephilims, anyway? What did that mean for the baby? Gabriel had said Dean and Cas' child really was simply a baby, but it wasn't human either. The nephilim was still half-angel, and Sam had no idea what that truly meant.

He wanted to know how the Mark affected everything, as well as how Cas’ burning out Grace came into play. The Mark had been the one to blame for Dean going into an early labor, and it had apparently been trying to kill the baby all along, so had there been any other close calls before? Gabriel had said that an early labor had been a risk for them since the very beginning, and Sam had wanted to ask more about that when he'd said it; to know just what kinds of risks were at play here, but he hadn’t insisted because the archangel still had to find Cas, and that had to come first now. They could not afford to waste time right now.

Another breath left his mouth as a shiver ran through his arms, and it was just then that he realized how cold it was in the room, which was a bit odd for June, but it was still night outside, so it kind of made sense. Regardless, he chose not to question it right now.

“I’m gonna go look for the heater,” Sam announced as he got to his feet, because he was pretty sure Dean shouldn’t be feeling cold right now.

Charlie nodded. “I’ll watch him.”

Sam nodded in response, and then he was off. He found the thermostat quickly enough, and he was glad to find that the heater seemed to be working perfectly fine once he adjusted the temperature and turned it on. Maybe they should have checked this earlier, but well, no harm done, it was running now and that was good enough. He still stopped by one of the bedroom to grab a duvet, though, just to make sure, and once he was back in the living room he threw it over Dean.

He took a seat on the armchair to the side while Charlie moved over to the kitchen to throw something together for them to eat. Sam had offered to do it, but she had quickly made the very good point that after Dean, she was the one with the least chances of burning the whole place down because she actually did know how to make something edible, unlike Sam, and he’d had no argument against that, so he’d just nodded in silence as she disappeared from sight just a moment later.

And as she vanished into the other room, Sam's eyes fell onto the Angel Blade still lying on the coffee table. He should probably move it from there, but it was still covered in blood, so he'd have to clean it first, and that would have to wait for now. He'd have to go after either a towel or a cloth for that, which meant leaving Dean's side for a minute, and that wasn't something he was willing to do right now.

So instead he just stayed in the living room so he could watch over Dean, in case something happened; in case anything went wrong, paying attention to every single movement or sound his brother made, although he was oddly still and quiet. Sam decided to take that as a good sign, but that did not mean he should let his guard down, so his attention remained solely focused on his brother as he hoped with everything he had in him that Gabriel would find Cas soon, and that the seraph was still alive.

_"That banishing sigil should have killed him."_

Those words would not leave his mind, no matter just how much he tried to push them away. A dark cloud of worry was still hanging over his head, as he was constantly reminded that Cas might not make it this time; that maybe this was where he would lose them. He'd just found out about the baby; only a few hours ago he'd learned that he was going to be an uncle and that Dean and Cas were going to be _parents_ , and now he might be about to lose all three of them. The single thought of it was suffocating, like a fist closing over his throat, squeezing down until he could no longer breathe.

He looked up at the ceiling, feeling a choked breath escaping him abruptly, as though punched right out of his lungs.

"Gabriel said you're the one who forbade nephilims," The words were out before he could stop them or really think them through, his voice just a weak, shaky whisper, "But you also foretold the Apocalypse, and yet in the end you helped us stop it. You brought Cas back so many times. You saved us from Lucifer when I opened the Cage. So if Cas is alive right now, I'm... I wonder if maybe you might have a hand in that." He swallowed, letting out another breath, feeling the words grow harder and harder to be let out. Part of him insisted that this was pointless, but he didn't let that thought stop him. "So please, if you... if you really care about Cas as much as you've let on until now... Please," He glanced back down at Dean, feeling his throat tight, eyes stinging a little, voice trembling even more now, "Please watch over them.  _Please._ "

He got no response, of course, but he hadn't been expecting one anyway. So he just sat there in silence, unmoving, watching Dean's every breath, worry growing inside his chest with every minute that passed, waiting for news and hoping with everything he had that they could do this; that they could _fix_ this.

That was all he could do right now, anyway.

***~*~*~*~***

Everything hurt. That was the first thing Dean noticed when he came to.

His head felt heavy and oddly warm, his mind fuzzy and weird, like when you're just about to pass out from exhaustion and can barely stay awake anymore, which was a weird feeling to have when he was supposed to be waking up. His body felt numb, muscles completely spent, aching like he had been run over by a semi-truck. There was also this weird pressure in his chest, like there was something digging into his ribcage, lodged between his ribs and squeezing at his heart, and he had no idea what that could be. Even breathing hurt; his lungs were burning, complaining at every breath of air he pulled inside them, like he had drowned somehow and was now finally being pulled back to consciousness.

But the first urge he felt wasn’t to spit out water, but to throw up.

He shot up, ignoring how much it hurt to move so fast, like his muscles might actually rip apart because of it, and for just a second he registered that he was lying on a couch and that there was something draped over him, but he paid very little attention to those facts because yeah, he really was about to puke out his intestines. So he just tossed whatever covers had been placed over him aside and turned his body, swinging his legs around and over the edge of the couch until his feet touched the floor so he could stand up.

Only he got up too quickly and his head started spinning.

He actually fell backwards as suddenly his balance was completely gone, legs failing to hold his weight up and just basically collapsing under him, and he found himself pretty much instantly lowering himself back down onto the couch, though he missed it a little and almost fell to the floor. Fortunately he managed to instead sit down awkwardly on the edge of the couch as he blinked, hand gripping the cushion beneath him as it was the only thing close enough to offer him any kind of support. He swallowed, feeling the nausea tightening in his belly and quickly climbing its way up his throat, but he didn’t have enough balance to get back to his feet. He didn’t even know where the the fuck he  _was._

Arms circled around his waist without a warning, pulling him up just a bit and then back properly onto the couch before he could actually slide down to the floor, and he didn’t resist; didn’t have the strength to, even though he didn’t know who was doing it for a moment. The body beside his was too big to be Cas’, but a beat later he realized it was familiar.

“Bathroom,” Dean blurted out, groaning, and as his voice left his mouth, for a second he was sure that he was just going to puke right then and there, but fortunately that didn’t happen.

Sam was quick to comply, tugging Dean back up onto his feet without a word, and Dean leaned into him for support, one arm thrown over his brother’s shoulders as he actually let some of his weight settle onto Sam’s bigger frame because he was still sure he might just collapse to the floor at any second now. Sam didn’t complain; instead he just kept walking, steps careful but hurried, and the older Winchester let himself be all but dragged down an unfamiliar hallway until finally they reached a bathroom.

It had been days since his morning sickness had bothered him, so this was a little odd, but not completely unheard of as he still had a few eventual episodes every now and then, especially depending on what he ate. What really worried him, though, was the blood that came out of his mouth alongside the vomit. The clear hint of dark red mingling with everything else inside the toilet sent a wave of cold dread through him, and he couldn’t help but stare down at it for a moment once he was done throwing up, panting over the toilet and trying to actually get his head to stop spinning.

Fuck, and where was that damn _pain_ coming from? Was something in his chest broken or something? It sure was hell felt like it.

For quite a while, all that could be heard in the bathroom was the sound of his heavy breathing, and Dean didn’t even turn his head to look at Sam as he tried to gather his bearings. His heart was beating a little faster than it should in his chest, and he wondered what was up with that.

Sam did break the silence at some point, though.

“Dean,” A hand rested on Dean’s shoulder, not really squeezing it but still very much present where it rested, but the older brother still didn’t look at him, “Drink this.”

Dean turned his head to the side at the gentle, tentative words, and he realized then that Sam was no longer the only other person in the bathroom with him, as Charlie had apparently followed them here at some point and was now kneeling beside Sam, also staring at Dean with wide, worried eyes.

There was a glass of water being offered to him, held up by Sam in a silent request for him to take it, which Dean had not noticed before, and he could only assume Charlie had been the one to bring it as Sam had all but carried him here and could not have possibly been holding that earlier.

Dean hesitated to take it for a moment, eyeing the glass and wondering what could be in it. They could be trying to give him medicine for all he knew, and he wasn’t sure if he should be taking anything of the sort right now.

“It’s just water,” Sam assured him, voice still low and gentle, eyes growing oddly soft as he said it, and Dean wasn't sure what that was about.

He still hesitated for another beat, but finally he lifted his hand and slowly took the glass from Sam.

The water helped with the sour, disgusting taste of vomit in his mouth. He spit the first mouthful of water into the toilet, attempting to rinse his mouth a little, and then proceeded to drink the rest, but a clear hint of the horrible taste still lingered on his tongue even after he was done with the whole glass. “Thanks,” he still muttered, and Sam took the glass from him before he could try to do anything with it, lifting his arm and resting it on the sink before moving his eyes back to Dean. He looked worried, and Dean figured it was only fair.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, clearly wanting to reach out again; his hand even rose slightly to do it for just a second before falling back down to his side as he seemed to change his mind about it. Charlie shifted a little beside him, and it was only then that Dean noticed how they both looked oddly tense. He wondered what that was about, because he had no idea. Maybe it was the blood, he reasoned.

Dean swallowed, shaking his head and grimacing at the very distinct hint of puke still clinging to the inside of his mouth. The metallic taste of blood was also there, insistent, and he silently wished for another glass of water, but refrained from commenting on it. Sam and Charlie had already done enough; he would get one in a minute.

“Better now that I threw up,” he admitted. He looked around then, frowning at the non-familiar bathroom. “Where the hell are we?”

Both Sam and Charlie looked very much taken aback by the question, and Dean couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was something really obvious just right in front of his face that he was missing here. He honestly had no idea.

“We’re close to Vancouver,” Charlie replied lowly, voice tentative and hesitant, which only made Dean even more curious. It was almost as if he was supposed to know this, and he couldn’t help but frown at her curiously as he considered the cautious tone of her voice, “In a cabin out in the mountain area.”

Dean let his eyes dart back and forth between the pair, taking in the expectant look in their eyes, which made Dean wonder if he really was missing something here and they were just waiting for him to realize it, because it sure as hell looked like it. Why the hell were they—

“Crowley brought you here,” Sam offered, and his voice sounded weird, like he was waiting for something, eyes measuring Dean in a way that made him feel uneasy. Charlie was also awfully quiet, her eyes almost curious as they followed Dean’s every movement. “You know, after we...” Sam didn't seem able to finish that, but there was no need for him to, because suddenly it all clicked inside Dean's head, like a lamp suddenly turning on.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Yeah, I…” Dean swallowed, wincing at the taste in his mouth, “I remember.”

And he truly did. In flash, it all played in his head, right before his eyes—leaving the cabin in Branson to get away from the Book and try to quiet down the Mark, the fight in the convenience store, the Stynes, Juliet, Crowley, and then the pain when he’d actually—

Once more Dean found his eyes flitting back and forth between Sam and Charlie, though this time they moved a lot faster, lingering on each of them for only a beat as he could not make himself hold their gaze for too long before feeling the need to look away. He felt his stomach sink down to his feet as suddenly he realized why they were staring at him that way; why they seemed almost afraid that he might just collapse all of a sudden; why they both looked just about ready to grab him to offer him support or intervene if anything suddenly went wrong.

 _“He’s losing the baby,”_ Sam had said. Dean remembered it now, as clear as if he were hearing those words leaving his brother’s mouth right now, right there in that bathroom.

Dean closed his eyes as he swallowed once more, feeling as if suddenly the floor had collapsed right under his weight.

Sam and Charlie _knew._

They _knew._

_Fuck._

“Where’s Cas?” he croaked out instead of actually addressing what he knew must be the only thing in both their heads in that moment, because he really didn’t think he could do this right now. His head was still spinning, nausea still coiling quite strongly in his gut and the weird pain in his chest still very much insistent. He wondered if the last one was coming from the bond, and he realized with dread that it probably was, even though the connection felt numb, just a weak, strained buzzing that was barely there, that Dean had almost missed. “I mean, is he… is he back yet?” He couldn’t even consider an alternative, but as he opened his eyes again to look at the pair he realized that maybe he should.

Sam swallowed, eyes falling to the floor for a moment as he seemed to consider his next words way too much. Dean knew the two had without a doubt noticed that he'd just pretty much made the decision to avoid the elephant in the room for now, but they didn’t immediately call him out on it, and for that he was extremely glad.

His nausea spiked again, a sharp feeling suddenly sparking back to life in his stomach, but he managed to hold it back enough for now so that he didn’t puke again, swallowing a few times and hoping he wouldn’t actually throw up a second time.

“We don’t know,” Sam answered lowly, voice tentative and slow, and when he looked back up at Dean the look in his eyes was heavy, sad even as he seemed to measure his brother’s reaction to his words with careful attention. “Gabriel went looking for him, but we’ve heard nothing from him so far.”

A lump formed in Dean’s throat, and his nausea chose that precise moment to bother him again, but this time he didn’t quite manage to hold it back, and in a second he was back to puking out his insides into the toilet.

Lovely.

There wasn’t as much blood this time, though, and he decided to take that as a good sign, although he was still worried about there being blood at all coming out of his mouth. Once he was done throwing up again he swallowed a few times, trying to at least lessen the terrible sourness in his mouth, but it helped very little. The horrible taste clung to the inside of his mouth very insistently, and Dean knew he would have to put up with it for at least a little while now, as there was no water left for him to drink in the glass. He should have left some when he'd drunk his water earlier, but he'd been kind of hoping he wouldn't puke again back then. Turns out he just wasn't that lucky.

He clicked his tongue a few times, shaking his head as he tried to move, deciding that he didn't really have a choice now. His muscles protested, pain flooding his nerves with every movement he made, but Dean ignored it and pushed himself back up to his feet, watching as Sam and Charlie were quick to follow the movement, lifting their hands slightly, clearly ready to steady him if necessary. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much.

He chose not to comment on it, though, flushing the toilet and walking over to the sink to rinse his mouth again, trying to rid it of the fucking awful taste, and he didn’t miss how Sam and Charlie all but orbited around him as he did it.

Once he was done he glanced up at the mirror, and immediately he caught sight of the amulet hanging from his neck, chord completely intact, as if it hadn’t been ripped at all the day before; as if it hadn’t for even a moment left its spot against his chest.

But it had. He knew it had, and he knew what that meant. There was a reason why he was in Canada right now in a warded cabin of all places; Crowley had said it himself when he'd first brought Dean here earlier—to make it harder for Heaven to find him, because they _were_ coming. They had been coming for him the moment that amulet had first fallen from his neck.

And meanwhile Cas was out there, barely even alive if the state of the bond was any indication. All Dean wanted to do right now was to just leave this place, take off to go find Cas, try to follow the bond somehow, as weak as the connection felt, because he wasn’t really happy with completely relying on Gabriel for that one, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Leaving this place meant putting himself and the baby at risk, and he could not afford to do that, so even if he wished to be out there looking for Cas right now, he knew he should stay put for the time being. His poor judgement on what to do was precisely the reason why they were in this mess in the first place. He was the one who'd thought fighting the Stynes on his own was a good idea.

And because of that Heaven was out there looking for him and Cas right now. The Host knew about their baby; knew they had created the one thing that would make every single angel in Heaven want to kill them, and that was precisely what those winged bastards were coming here to do right now. Dean knew they wouldn’t just forget about the nephilim or even let this go. They weren’t going to stop until they found them.

They already had too much to deal with. They still had both the Mark and Cas' Grace to worry about, probably even the Stynes now as well, so this was just too much. This was the one thing they had needed to avoid at all costs. Dean hadn’t been sure how they would have dealt with Heaven once the nephilim was born; he and Cas hadn't really talked about that yet, but it had just been too early to think about it. They still had way too much to worry about, so that had just seemed like a discussion that could wait a while.

Now, though, they would have to think about it; would have to figure it out somehow.

But how exactly were they supposed to do that?

Fuck.

He had his elbows resting on top of the cold countertop beside the sink, and he let his head fall to his hands, gripping at his hair as it really dawned on him just how fucking bad their situation truly was. Things had finally been looking up for once—they had the feathers spell and the codex to translate the Book of the Damned, so basically they'd had the solution for both of their main problems. Finally, _finally,_ after fucking  _months,_ Dean had been able to see a light at the end of the tunnel; had even allowed himself to grow hopeful that maybe they could do this after all, that he and Cas might be able to save themselves and their baby.

And now the floor had all but collapsed right under his feet, and he felt like he was falling, world spiraling all around him without control, and he had no fucking idea how to even—

“Dean,” Someone gripped his arm, and Dean jumped in surprise at the sudden and unexpected touch, causing the hand to pull back quickly, as if afraid to hurt him somehow. Sam was standing by his side now, a lot closer than he had been a moment later, but Dean had not even noticed him move at all. His brother gave him a sad, heavy look again, one a lot similar to what Dean had seen in his eyes earlier, and the older Winchester swallowed at the sight. There was way too much behind that gaze, too many unsaid words.

“You need to rest, Dean,” Sam pointed out, voice low and gentle.

The words were laced with meaning, of course, and Dean knew exactly why Sam was saying them. He swallowed again, looking down at the countertop, avoiding his brother’s gaze as he let out a breath and tried to calm himself down enough to do this. The heaviness of both Sam and Charlie’s stares settled onto him, like stones sitting on his shoulders.

“How much did Cas tell you?” His voice came out low and weak, just a timid whisper, but he didn’t bother to clear his throat and try to repeat the question. He doubted he could force those words out of his mouth again right now; it was already a miracle he’d managed to do it once at all.

The silence that followed was heavy and loaded, and Dean wished he could find it in himself to look up and measure their reactions, try and read their expressions in an attempt to figure out what might be going through their heads right then, but all he managed to do was stare down at the patterns on the stone countertop—at the shapeless, meaningless mixture of colors in the granite, as if that might help him in any way right now.

“Not nearly as much as there is to be told, I’m sure,” was Sam’s low response, “But… enough.”

Right.

“He had to, Dean,” Charlie’s voice came from a little farther away, sounding just as careful and tentative as Sam's had, “When the Stynes took you, we just… Cas was desperate, and he couldn’t tell us what exactly we were going up against or why the Stynes taking the amulet off of you was such a big deal. We couldn't... We wouldn't know what we were truly walking into if he didn't tell us everything. We had to know.”

Dean nodded numbly, because it did sort of make sense. He wasn’t mad at Cas, he realized; he was just annoyed that he hadn’t been the one to open up. But then again, maybe he deserved this, after having put it off for so fucking long. In a way, he’d almost asked for this, and on the bright side he wouldn’t have to actually sit down and break the news himself; that conversation was already out of the way now.

Still, this wasn’t how this had been supposed to go.

“I’m sorry.” The words were out of his mouth without a thought, shoulders sagging as he let out a sigh. “I didn’t… I was supposed to tell you. I didn’t want…”

He was met with silence for a beat, until finally he heard a quiet, hesitant, “Then why didn’t you?” Sam’s voice wasn't exactly weak as he said it, but there was still such a clear hint of hurt, a tiny, subtle tremble to his brother’s voice that made Dean at last turn his head back around to look at Sam and Charlie again.

The sight that greeted him made his heart heavier in his chest. Sam’s eyes were big and pleading, pained even, almost begging in a way, while Charlie’s eyes were just sad, and Dean suddenly felt like the worst fucking person on the planet because he knew this was his fault. He had been the one who hadn’t manned up enough to tell either of them about this. This wasn’t something small; this was one of the hugest things that had ever happened to them, so they had every right to be mad at him for keeping it from them.

“I don’t know,” he breathed out, shaking his head weakly, “I tried to, I really did, I just… I just kept putting it off. Cas wanted to tell you almost right away, I’m the one who didn’t…” Who didn’t fucking man up enough to do it, he wanted to say, but the words died on his tongue. He was pretty sure they both understood what he'd meant to say regardless, anyway. “Honestly, I have no idea how Cas was so patient with me.”

Sam’s hand came up to rest on his shoulder again, and this time Dean didn’t jump like a spooked animal at the contact, instead allowing it to happen without a complaint. “It’s okay, Dean, I… I get it. I mean, I understand why you’d want to wait.”

“We’re not mad,” Charlie added lowly.

The honesty in those words; the light and warm tone in both of their voices actually took Dean by surprise, and for a moment all he could do was stare at the pair, waiting for the air to shift around them, because this was certainly not what he had expected to hear from them right now. This was quite the opposite of the reaction he had been waiting for, and his eyes kept flitting from one face to the other in disbelief, but their expressions didn’t shift.

He didn’t deserve this. Fuck, he’d screwed up everything, how the hell were they being so… okay with this?

“Is that really all you have to say to me right now?” he asked in disbelief.

Neither Sam nor Charlie responded, looking at him confusedly, and he shook his head at them. Part of why he had still been hesitating so much to tell them these last few months had been his fear of what their reaction would be to him and Cas having kept this a secret from them for so long, and out of all the possible responses he had been expected to get, this one had certainly never made the list.

“It doesn’t matter, Dean,” Sam offered, “I mean, sure, I’m not… happy that you waited so long, or that we had to find out like this. I mean, this isn’t… This isn’t just some kind of... secret that can just keep from each other, Dean. This isn’t… This is a _baby.”_

It was the first time anyone had actually said anything about the baby out loud—except for earlier when Gabriel had been here, but that one didn't really count—and for some reason it cemented the reality of the situation even more in Dean’s mind, as if there was a part of him that had still been hanging on to the possibility that Sam and Charlie didn’t know and that the Mark had messed up his memories from earlier just to fuck with his head.

But that wasn’t the case, huh?

“I know, Sam, I know,” Dean ran his hand through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts. “I… I tried to tell you the night Cas and I got back from Absarokee, I really did, but I just… I couldn’t. It was just too much for one night.”

Sam nodded silently, but didn’t comment.

“And then every other time I tried… I know there’s no excuse, I should have told you sooner and I kept chickening out, but… There was just always so much going on, it just never seemed right.”

Sam’s eyes softened at that, and the hand on Dean’s shoulder squeezed down a little, almost reassuringly. “You know, the… the weirdest thing about this is that I get why you didn’t tell me.” Dean just frowned at him, waiting for a better explanation than that. Sam shrugged lightly at him, “I know you, Dean. I know how hard this stuff is for you. You were scared to tell me about you and Cas, even though you knew deep down that I wouldn’t mind, at all. You don't open up easy. It’s just… how you operate, and it annoys me, it does, but I don’t think anyone will ever be able to change that about you.”

Well, Dean couldn’t say it didn’t make sense when Sam put it like that.

He simply nodded numbly in response, finding that he couldn’t make himself say anything else right then. He let his head hang forward again, squeezing his eyes shut at the pain that was still coming from the bond. It seemed to be getting worse, actually, now feeling like a dull throb that was slowly spreading to the rest of his body, which was definitely not a good sign concerning Cas’ well-being. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, and the dizziness from before seemed to have suddenly decided to make an appearance again, just to make everything worse. The Mark was burning a little now, too, but not too much; the feeling was oddly dull, which Dean was very thankful for.

Still, all of it was a bit too much for him, and he leaned a bit more onto the countertop, seeking balance. Fuck, he should probably lie down.

“Dean?” Charlie asked, voice as tentative as before, though there was a clear hint of worry coating her words, “How are you feeling?”

Dean swallowed, wincing as the pain continued to bother him, but he did not lift his head as he replied, “Horrible. Everything hurts.”

“Where does it…? I mean, are you…?” Sam clearly couldn’t finish that, words audibly getting stuck on the way out.

Dean shook his head, finally lifting his head to find two very worried pairs of eyes watching him. He immediately knew what this looked like, and he hurried to reassure them. “I’m fine. I’m not… I’m not in labor again.” And fuck if it didn’t feel weird to say that in front of them. “The bond is just hurting a lot.”

Understanding flooded their features, but their worry only seemed to intensify at those words. Dean couldn’t say he was surprised.

“Can you…” Sam swallowed with a click, before trying again, “Can you feel if Cas is alive?”

Those words shouldn’t have hurt so much, but they did, because Sam had just voiced the very possibility Dean had been terrified to even think about until now. A breath was punched right out of his lungs, shaky and tired, and he shook his head, feeling his throat tight and chest even heavier all of a sudden.

“The bond is there,” He hated how weak his voice came out, how uncertain he was about what he was saying, but he could do nothing about it, “I can feel that, at least. And I mean… that has to mean something, right?” It was all he had to lean on right now; the only thought he had to hang on to, and he wasn’t going to let go; he _couldn't_ let go.

Sam nodded stiffly, “Of course.” Dean could clearly hear the uncertainty in those words, which definitely didn't make him feel any better.

Because he knew what they were both thinking, but no one dared to say it out loud. Cas had been banished with borrowed Grace, which had never happened before, and judging by how weak the angel had been lately, the odds of him surviving something like that had to be pretty low. Cas had said Dean would die with him in case something happened to the angel, but he had never said it would be instantaneous. Maybe it took time, and the pain Dean was feeling right now might actually be a warning of what was coming.

He tried to push those thoughts away for the time being, tried to tell himself that maybe that wasn't what the pain meant, that maybe Cas was fine and Dean was just feeling so weird because the angel wasn't back yet, but of course that did not work. He knew those doubts would linger over his head like a dark cloud until he saw Cas again.

“You should probably lie down, Dean,” Charlie pointed you, “You look about to just topple over.”

He had to agree with her, of course; he’d had that exact same thought merely a minute ago. But there were a few things he still needed to know before he could do that.

“How long has Gabriel been gone for?”

“Just a couple of hours,” Sam replied, “It’s… it’s still pretty early to know anything, Dean.”

Dean knew Sam was probably just trying to make him feel better, but he nodded anyway. Numbly and without much thought, sure, but he did it regardless, just for the sake of replying, even if his heart wasn’t quite in it; even if he couldn’t find it in himself to actually believe those words.

"What about the Stynes?" he inquired, "I mean, before Cas got banished, did you...?"

"They're all dead," Sam replied, "I mean, the ones who were in that house, anyway. There... there are more of them out there, apparently."

Dean nodded numbly, because he knew that already, but he really didn't want to think about that right now. There was still one thing he needed to know, though. "And Jacob?"

Sam hesitated for a beat before answering, jaw clenching twice before he finally said, "He's... he's the one who banished Cas." Dean felt a spark of anger come to life inside his chest at that, instantly remembering the damn convinced, lazy expression on the man's features as the Styne had stared at him back in that office, looking at the hunter like he was nothing more than a fucking lab rat, and Dean kind of regretted that he hadn't actually managed to lay a few punches to the guy's face in the end.

Something that gave away where his mind had gone to must have showed on Dean's face, because Sam was quick to add, "He's dead now, though. I killed him."

Dean was truly glad to hear that, he really was, but oddly enough that didn't really make him feel a lot better. It didn't fix anything; it didn't undo the harm that banishing sigil had already done. He still nodded in response, though, but found himself unable to come up with anything else to say, so instead he just let silence take over once more.

It didn't last long, though.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam let his hand fall to his brother's elbow then, tugging at it a little, “You need to lie down. Gabriel said you need to rest now.” He noticed Charlie moving closer as well, and he wondered if he really looked like he was about to pass out or something.

He must, he realized.

Dean swallowed again. His first instinct was to protest, to complain that Sam was babying him like Cas had been doing for the past few months, coddling if you will. He wanted to point out that he was fine and wouldn’t be able to actually rest while Cas was still out there.

But he didn’t. He wasn’t fine; his body felt heavy and his movements were dragged, almost painful, muscles stiff and constantly complaining. He was anxious; he wanted to do something to help finding Cas, to do _anything_ instead of just ‘lying down’ and waiting, but now that he’d calmed down enough he realized maybe there wasn’t much he could do.

Fuck, he had gone into _labor._ He had almost lost the baby just a few hours ago, and he would have if it wasn't for Gabriel and Crowley, which was a really weird thought to have, but it was the truth anyway. And now with Cas gone and the Mark still burning on his arm, Dean was pretty sure the odds of that happening again were still pretty high, so he shouldn’t push himself. Gabriel wasn’t here anymore, and even if he came back here in case something happened again, maybe he wouldn’t manage to stop the contractions this time. The Mark was still burning on his arm, and that just couldn't be a good sign.

That single thought alone was enough to drain all the fight right out of him, and with a sigh Dean nodded in agreement. Sam and Charlie looked relieved, but no less worried. Sam kept his hand on his arm as they walked out of the bathroom, and the two kept orbiting around him, carefully watching every step he took. He wanted to tell them that there was no need for any of that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to actually say it out loud, maybe because he didn't believe that himself, so he just let it happen without any actual complaints.

The two herded him into the master bedroom of the cabin, and Dean immediately spotted his and Cas’ bags lying by the foot of the bed. He guessed someone must have brought it in here earlier, even before Crowley had brought him here most likely, since apparently they had gotten this cabin ready and warded before they’d gone after the Stynes to rescue him.

Fortunately by the time they got to the bedroom the pair seemed to have silently decided that he could handle himself at least to some degree and let him lie down on the bed without offering any help or anything of the sort, and he buried himself under the duvet without a word. He still hated how he felt like he was being coddled, though; how they were both pretty much watching him like hawks, but again, he couldn’t find it in himself to fight any of it, not when his baby’s life was still hanging by a thread.

He took advantage of how the duvet hid his lower half and rested his hand over his bump in a silent apology.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked once he was settled, still standing right beside the bed.

“Tired,” Dean answered truthfully, “The bond still feels weird.”

His brother nodded slowly, glancing down for a beat as if trying to figure out what to say next, and Dean could almost see all the thoughts running through his head right then. Charlie also lingered, shifting her weight from one leg to the other almost uncomfortably, also clearly unsure of how to proceed, and Dean really didn’t blame them. He doubted Cas had told them everything; he’d probably just given them a basic rundown so they could know what they would be dealing with, but there must be so many doubts piling up inside their heads; so many questions they clearly wished to ask him right then, but that they apparently just couldn’t quite make themselves voice.

And because of that the air around them was still a little heavy, which really wasn't a surprise. They still had to talk about this, Dean was very much aware of that, but he also knew that he sure as hell wouldn’t be the first one to address the elephant in the room.

“You hungry?”

The question surely wasn’t what Dean had expected to hear from Sam, nor was it what his brother really wanted to ask, if the look in his eyes when he met Dean’s was anything to go by, but of course the older Winchester would not comment on that. Instead he paused, ready to say that he wasn’t, because really he was still nauseous, but then he remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything since last morning, so really he should probably at least try to keep something down. The baby needed it.

“Not really,” he replied, “But I should probably eat something.”

“I made omelets,” Charlie announced, “I mean, I tried to, anyway. You’re the cook around here, after all.”

Dean let out a humorless chuckle, and she smiled lightly at him. “Yeah, that… that sounds good.” He lifted the duvet again, ready to get up from the bed. He wondered why they hadn't mentioned food sooner, before he'd laid down because now this whole thing seemed a little pointless, but before he could actually get to his feet a firm hand suddenly settled on his shoulder, stopping him, and he looked up surprised, only to find Sam staring at him with an almost panicked look in his eyes.

“Dean, you shouldn’t be walking around. I mean, not more than you already have. We’ll bring it to you here.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but closed it shut again just a second later, letting his eyes flit back and forth between Sam and Charlie for a beat, finding identically determined looks on their faces. They were probably right, and he knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about this. Still, as he saw no point in arguing with the two, since this was clearly a lost battle already, Dean’s body sagged in defeat as he leaned back against the headboard with a sigh.

“Fine,” he breathed out, and a second later he realized that he also hadn’t taken his prenatal vitamins last night, so he was quick to add, “Can you bring water too?”

Sam nodded, “Of course.” He sounded relieved, but a moment later his eyes grew tentative again, voice hesitant once more. “Are you… are you okay to…?”

“I’ll be fine,” Dean said, once more feeling annoyed because of all the coddling, and he let out a breath when he noticed Sam didn’t look convinced at all, or how neither of them seemed quite willing to move right then. “I can be alone for two minutes, guys.” And maybe his voice was just a tiny bit harsher than necessary, but if it got them to stop treating him like he was made of glass, then it would be worth it.

And it did work, fortunately. Sam and Charlie exchanged a look, hesitating for just a beat before they finally relented, and soon enough they left him alone with the promise of being back shortly with food and water, and Dean took that as his chance, getting up from the bed just a few seconds after the two were out the door and moving to where he’d spotted his and Cas’ bags earlier as silently as he could.

He moved slowly, carefully, hand resting on his bump over his shirt as if that would prevent anything from happening. Lowering himself before the bags, he opened the zipper on his, peeking into the small side bag and finding the small box of pills sitting right where he'd hoped to find them. They used to be in the drawer in the nightstand, but fortunately Cas seemed to have been the one to pack his bag, which he was very much glad for.

He popped one into his mouth, dry and all because he was going to be getting water really soon, and he was pretty sure it got a little stuck on the way down, or maybe he was just imagining it. His throat felt a little weird and he wished for that water now, but he would have to wait a little. He hesitated for a moment before shutting the lid again, since he was afraid to take two even though he was inclined to, since he’d missed the one he had been supposed to take last night, but Cas wasn’t here right now to tell him if that was okay or not, so he refrained in fear of doing something harmful to the baby. He’d never missed a tablet, not even once, so he could only hope the baby would be fine without the one from last night and not end up missing anything because of it.

Heavy steps sounded from out in the hallway, and Dean tossed the box back into the bag before Sam and Charlie could see it in his hand, as he really wasn’t ready for that talk just yet, cursing lowly to himself because those two had come back way sooner than he’d thought they would and he’d been caught red handed.

But as he turned around to glance over at the door a moment later, he realized that wasn’t quite the case.

Juliet trotted happily into the room, walking up to him without pause, sniffing at his face and whining as soon as she reached him, and since Dean was still crouched they were pretty much eye height to each other right then, so he didn’t have much choice but to let her lick at his face a little.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” He lifted his hands, petting her on the head and kindly pushing her away, and she didn’t complain; just lowered her head so he could scratch it, ears lowering flat against her skull. “What are you doing here?” Was Crowley still around? He wouldn’t have left her behind, would he?

He had no idea, but he did know that he shouldn’t waste the chance he’d been given, so he quickly zipped the bag shut again and carefully got to his feet, using the bed behind him as leverage so he wouldn’t be doing all the effort. Juliet whined from the floor, looking up at him with begging eyes, tail waggling from one side to the other as a small, pitifully sad bark escaped her mouth, turning into another whine at the end. She kept lifting her front paws, stomping on the floor a little, like she was considering jumping on him, but fortunately she didn’t do that. Glad to realize he didn’t need to worry about a hellhound pouncing on him, Dean just ignored her and walked over to the bed again, lying down and burying himself under the duvet exactly as he’d done before, as if nothing had happened.

Juliet seemed to decide then that she didn’t like to be ignored and jumped up and onto the bed, settling herself right beside him with her head resting on his lap, demanding attention, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at her, before lifting his hand to pet her on the head as she was clearly asking him to. The low, pleased growling sound that still sounded way too much like a purr filled the air just a few seconds later while her tail waggled happily.

He noticed then that there was still blood covering her fur from all the Stynes she had killed earlier, especially on her paws and muzzle, but it was all dry now, clinging to her fur, making it harder to the touch in a few places where the strands were actually stuck together. He hoped Crowley would get someone to clean it soon, because that looked pretty uncomfortable. Did they give hellhounds baths or something? He kinda hoped they did, but he had no idea.

Dean was still petting her when Sam and Charlie came back, running his hand over the thick fur of her back over and over again, and he was pretty sure she might be close to falling asleep because her eyes were closed. Again, he didn’t know for sure if hellhounds even slept, but he was guessing they must, or this one was just ridiculously lazy.

His brother was carrying a small little tray while Charlie was holding two glasses full of water, one in each hand, but the pair paused as soon as they walked through the door, two pairs of eyes falling onto the bed, identical frowns forming on their faces only a moment later, like they weren’t quite sure what to make of what they were seeing.

“Is… is Juliet there?” Sam asked.

Oh. Right. They couldn’t see her.

“Yeah.” He noticed how neither seemed willing to move, and he realized maybe they hadn’t spent enough time around the hellhound to realize just how docile she could be. Well, with him, anyway. “Crowley still around?”

Sam shook his head slowly, apparently unable to move from his spot by the door. Charlie also did not seem willing to step forward at all, instead choosing to simply linger a couple of steps behind Sam.

“No,” his brother replied, “He left a while ago, right about the same time as Gabriel. He just… he left Juliet behind to help if, you know…” Sam swallowed once, “If Heaven somehow finds us here.”

Dean felt his chest heavier at the words, and he swallowed drily, looking back down at the hound, as though that would somehow help him brush off the comment, when in fact it had already settled over his heart like an iron first. He ran his hand through Juliet’s fur without thinking, doing his best to try and push those thoughts away, focusing instead on how odd this was. It did seem off that the demon would leave the hellhound behind like this, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to comment.

“Are you… petting her?” Charlie asked, staring suspiciously at what to her was most likely nothing more than empty space.

“She won’t bite. She’s… friendly, I guess. And she tends to get cuddly.”

Sam frowned at him, disbelief clearly painted on his features as he asked, “So you can see her?”

“Yeah, angels can see them, so,” Dean shrugged, “The bond lets me see her too.”

Sam nodded tightly, and he still hesitated for a beat before finally stepping forward.

With caution, Sam and Charlie both walked over to the bed, and Dean nudged Juliet a little to the side so he could rest the tray on his lap, which wasn’t going to work with her head on the way. She whined again, but fortunately complied, curling up against his side instead, settling her head on her front paws. Sam gave him the tray while Charlie put one of the glasses onto the nightstand, and Dean took the other one from her, thanking her lowly before downing it all in one go and finally feeling like the tablet had gone down.

“I’m not you, and the rice might be a little burnt, but I can make a damn good omelet, I assure you.” Charlie smiled at him as she perched herself on the edge of the bed, the one on the side he was lying on so she was sitting right beside him. “It was one of my usual choices whenever I had to make my own food.”

“Well, it does smell pretty good,” Dean commented, taking in the plate before him—an enormous omelet that took up the entire plate, plus some white rice buried underneath it that he could see peeking out in a few places.

And quickly enough he found out that the food was pretty much amazing. The taste was definitely not what he’d expected to feel, and he wasn’t sure what all the different flavors he was picking up on were, but one of them clearly stood out. “Okay, this is awesome. Did you put cheese in this?” He took another forkful as he spoke, groaning a little. The texture was just the right side of crunchy at the edges and soft at the center. Fuck, this was good.

“Yep,” She smiled proudly at him, clearly very happy that he had approved of her cooking.

He might actually have to ask her for the recipe later, but for now he just settled on enjoying this.

Sam pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, the same one Charlie was sitting on, and Dean noticed how neither of them seemed very willing to sit on the other one, probably because Juliet was taking up most of it. He smiled at that, amused, but chose not to comment.

Silence took over the room then, and Dean grew more uncomfortable by the minute. And okay, he got that they were worried—Dean was too, he had to be honest—but he kind of hated that they felt the need to just watch every single move he made. Again, he definitely didn’t need to be coddled like this.

The biggest reason why the silence bothered him, though, was because that heavy, charged air was back and with it Dean was once more very much aware of the fact that they still had to talk about this. Sam and Charlie kept exchanging silent glances and Dean wished they would just break the silence themselves, but they didn’t.

He realized then that he had no idea how much they actually knew. They seemed to know about Heaven, but what else did they know? What had Cas told them, and what had he left for Dean to fill them in on?

He had no idea, but he couldn’t for the life of him make himself speak up and ask about it, no matter how many weeks he’d spent with this very subject constantly floating around inside his head; with the words just hanging off the tip of his tongue, constantly weighing down on his shoulders. No matter how many hours he’d spent trying to plan how this conversation would go over and over again in his head, he was still drawing a blank card right now.

So he ate, one bite after the other, and he was very happy to realize his nausea didn't come back. He would hate to throw up right now, because that would just be rude, and the food was delicious, so really, this wasn't the time for him to be sick again. The bond still felt weird, numb, but the pain seemed duller, more distant, and Dean held onto the thought that it had to be a good sign, even though the hint of _wrong_ was still very much present in the connection, like a silent, wordless warning.

The thought that the pain he was feeling right now was a lot similar to the one he'd felt back in the Bunker when Cas had used way too much of his Grace to break Dean out of the Mark's illusions registered in his mind then, painful like a knife to the chest, but he did his best to push it away for now.

Sam was the one to break the silence eventually, clearing his throat by the time Dean was about halfway done with his omelet, “Dean…”

He didn’t finish, didn’t add anything, but apparently that was enough of a shove for Dean to finally decide he’d had enough beating around the bush with this.

Might as well get it over with.

“Come on,” Dean said, letting out a breath, shoulders sagging a little, “I doubt Cas told you everything. Just… ask away, I guess.” Fuck, he had no idea how to even do this.

“He didn’t…” Sam swallowed, looking like he was choosing his words carefully, and Dean wondered if his brother was feeling as awkward and lost as he was right then. It seemed so, at least. “He told us the basics, really. We don’t know much.”

Well, Dean couldn’t say he was surprised. He took a few more bites from his food, chewing slowly as he tried to figure out how to even start this. Again, considering just how much thought he’d put into this conversation in the past few weeks, he would have thought this wouldn’t be this hard, especially when Sam and Charlie already knew the actual groundbreaking news, but again, this wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, so it kind of made sense that he wasn’t quite sure about how to proceed.

“What do you know?” Dean decided to ask.

“Well, firstly that you…" Sam swallowed once, like he wasn't quite sure how to voice whatever he wanted to say right then, and when he tried again his voice had grown a lot lower, tentative even, like he wasn't sure how Dean was going to react to his words, "That you've been pregnant since Omaha."

That was the first time anyone had actually said that word out loud, and for some reason hearing it from his brother seemed to be enough to render Dean completely quiet, so all he did was nod in confirmation. It wasn't like there was much he could say in response to that, anyway.

Fortunately Sam seemed to notice that Dean wouldn't comment pretty fast. He had probably been expecting it, honestly. "Cas also said that he didn’t know at first, that’s why he even left at all in Omaha, and why he tried to break the soul bond. But then you found him in Montana, where Gabriel showed up and told you both about the baby."

Dean nodded again. Okay, so they did know a few things. That was good. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. After that we went back to the Bunker, and… well, it just took me a while to even wrap my head around this. I didn’t… I might have freaked out on Cas a little when we first found out.” And by that he meant that he had pretty much taken off in the middle of the night, driven aimlessly through a bunch of dirt roads for about an hour and somehow ended up in a clearing in the middle of nowhere, where he'd stayed sitting on the Impala's hood out in the freezing cold until Cas had eventually found him. He wouldn't tell them about that, of course. “That’s why I decided to wait at first. I couldn’t even… I was still processing, so I just thought I should wait.”

Sam and Charlie both nodded silently in response, and Dean couldn't help but wonder if they just hadn’t expected anything different from him. They didn't look very surprised.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I just…” Sam swallowed again, and it looked like he was struggling with his words for a beat. Dean really wasn’t sure what to expect from him then, and he shifted a little on the bed as he waited for his brother to continue. After a beat, Sam sighed, “I’m so sorry, Dean. For… For everything. Cas said the bond has to stay, and I still can’t get over how I… I tried to convince you to break it, so many times. Hell, I was even researching ways to it.”

Dean shook his head at him, “You didn’t know, Sam. You had no idea why the bond has to stay.”

“That’s no excuse. I was trying to find a way to do something that would end up—” Sam’s voice failed, words getting caught in his throat, voice breaking, and he shook his head again, apparently giving up on whatever he had been about to say, although Dean already had a pretty good idea of what that might have been. Running his hand through his hair, Sam eventually added, “I also dragged you on a hunt.”

“I’m the one who agreed to it.”

“But I insisted,” Sam replied, “I practically made you go, Dean. No matter how many times you said you didn’t want to. No, actually, you said that you _couldn't_  hunt,and I still made you go.”

“And again, you didn’t _know._  You thought I was talking about the Mark. I’m the one who shouldn’t have gone.”

Sam let out a low, weak huff, shaking his head lightly as he said, “You know, Cas said the same thing.”

Of course he had. “And he’s right. I’m the one who was too chicken to tell you why I couldn’t hunt.”

Sam looked like he wanted to protest for a second, but he didn’t, and Dean took advantage of the pause to eat some more of his omelet. He actually ate two whole bites before Sam spoke again.

“You got all weird after the hunt, though,” his brother pointed out, “What… why did you take off like that?”

Right. Of course Sam would still remember that. Dean should have been expecting that question, really, but he still took a beat to respond, eating the last few mouthfuls of his food and finishing off his meal until there was nothing left on his plate. He put the tray on the nightstand when he was done, very much aware of how Sam was still waiting for an answer and that he was pretty much stalling, but every time he thought about that hunt a chill would still run down his spine, the cold tendrils of the panic he’d felt back then still too fresh in his mind.

He let out a relenting breath once he settled back against the headboard. “Andrew’s ghost threw me around in the basement. He sent me flying twice, and on the second time, I… I hit a shelf, and then later on when I checked I had a bruise on my side. It hurt, a lot actually, and I didn’t know if I had…”

Sam’s eyes widened a little, and Dean could still see the guilt in them, how his brother was still blaming himself for this. He didn’t comment on it this time, though, deciding that there was just no point in doing that right now. Sam could be just as stubborn as he was sometimes, and Dean already knew this was the kind of argument that could just go on and on without end if he allowed it, so it was really not worth it. Still, that didn’t mean it was any less painful to see the heavy, pained look in his little brother’s eyes, see the weight settling onto his shoulders.

It actually took a lot of willpower for Dean to let the matter go for now. “I went out to pray to Gabriel," he said instead, "Because I knew I couldn’t call Cas. I mean, I knew what I was going to hear from him, and I really didn't need a reminder of just how badly I'd screwed up, so I had to resort to Gabriel. Good thing he showed up pretty fast, and it turned out that everything was fine, it was just a superficial bruise, but I was…” The words got caught in his throat, and he found that he couldn't quite push them out for a moment. It was still too hard for him to even think about what could have happened back then, but he still gave it another try. “I was terrified. I just… Fuck, I was sure I had already screwed it up.” He felt his chest growing tighter all of a sudden, but shook his head a moment later to try and send those dark thoughts away. “Thanks for telling Cas about the hunt, by the way,” he added, hoping the comment would somehow made the heavy air around them at least a tiny bit lighter, “Got an earful from him about that one.”

Sam looked surprised. “You weren’t planning on telling him?”

“I was,” Dean nodded lightly, “Just… not like _that_.”

Sam simply nodded, looking like he already had something else on his mind, and Dean really shouldn’t have been surprised when the next thing that came out of his mouth was, “And what about Cain?”

Dean swallowed drily, looking down at his lap, briefly wishing he had something to distract himself with a little while he talked. He settled for petting Juliet, watching as she leaned into the touch as soon as his hand was back on her head, or how her tail almost immediately started to waggle a little, hitting his leg a few times. It was soothing.

“I just… I don’t get how you could do it, Dean. Or how Cas even _let_ you do it.”

Dean had to actually hold back a wince at those words, because that night in Ohio was still something he regretted very much. He still wished they could have found another way, because he knew Cas had wasted a lot of his Grace while Dean had been unconscious with both fighting off the Mark and taking care of him and the baby, and they couldn’t take any of that back now.

But there was one thing about that night that still weighed heavily inside his head; that would not allow him to regret it fully.

“We didn’t really have a choice, Sam,” Dean said, voice low and just a bit weaker than he would have liked.

His brother looked confused, frowning at him as he asked, “How could you not have had a choice, Dean?”

“It’s because Cain had a list, isn’t it?” They both turned to Charlie, who had apparently chosen to stay out of the conversation up until that moment, but had now decided to intervene. “You said he was wiping out all the descendants of the people he chose, and if _you_ were on his list…”

Dean nodded, happy that she had caught on so quickly, because then he wouldn’t have to explain it himself.

Some of the fight in Sam’s stance seemed to drain away at that, and instantly Dean knew he’d gotten it. Of course Cas wouldn’t have let Dean take on Cain if they hadn’t had a good reason, and they’d had a pretty heavy one.

“We needed to talk to Cain, we had already decided that even before we knew about his plan. And if we waited too much, maybe he would manage to catch us off guard, or maybe I wouldn’t have the Mark anymore, and then I wouldn’t…”

“I got it, Dean,” Sam’s voice was low and soothing, eyes growing oddly warm all of a sudden, almost reassuring, “I mean, I still think it was too much of a risk, but… I get it.” He swallowed, looking down for a beat, jaw clenching a few times, just like it normally did whenever he was thinking something over, or trying to decide the best way to word something in his mind, the best way to voice a thought, so Dean waited quietly once more. “I didn’t really believe you, you know?” Sam looked back up at him then, and Dean was surprised by the sudden sadness in his brother's gaze, the heaviness he found in his eyes. Dean wasn't sure what to make of it. "I thought... I was terrified that you were lying to me to make me feel better or something."

Dean frowned at him, “Lying to you about what?”

“When you said it wasn’t a suicidal mission. I didn’t…” Sam shrugged, shaking his head lightly, eyes falling back down to the bed, as if he was somehow rewatching the scene of their conversation back at that barn inside his head right then. “I was sure you weren’t planning on walking out of that barn that night, no matter what you said.” He let out a breath, and his shoulders sagged a little. “I was so relieved when you agreed to have Cas go in with you, and now I get why he offered and why you agreed to it at all, but… I was still scared back then.”

“That’s the night I decided to tell you,” Dean admitted, and Sam looked back up at him, apparently a little surprised to hear that. He frowned at Dean, silently requesting a better explanation, Dean assumed. “When we were talking, before Cain got there, I… I wanted to tell you there, why I _had_ to walk out of that barn. I just wanted to say it right there, but I didn’t, because what kind of shitty timing was that?” Sam actually chuckled a little at that, and with how the air was still heavy around them, the sound was pretty much music to Dean’s ears. Even Juliet lifted her head to look at Sam as he did it, but then lost interest a second later and lowered it back down onto her paws, nudging Dean’s side with her snout until he resumed petting her.

“And what about afterwards?”

Dean’s body tensed a little at the question, unsure of what exactly Sam meant to ask with that. “What about it?” he asked, still petting Juliet, and even to himself his voice sounded a bit off. The subject of what had followed the incident in Ohio was still something Dean didn't really like to talk or even think about, but he swallowed that feeling down, since he didn't exactly have a choice here.

If either Sam or Charlie noticed his reaction, they didn't let it show.

“Gabriel… was fighting off the Mark, when you and Cas got knocked out. And I mean, he said it was hurting you, but…” Sam paused, and it seemed like the words were caught in his throat and he couldn’t quite push them out of his mouth. He shook his head a moment later. “He said it was the Mark that made you go into labor today. So is it…?”

Dean let out a breath himself at those words, nodding numbly. Feeling his throat oddly dry all of a sudden, he wordlessly reached out for the full glass of water that was still sitting on the nightstand to the side. He took a few slow gulps from it, and then set the now half empty glass back down. “The Mark’s not happy. I mean… the baby’s half-angel, so it’s not really a surprise.”

“But has it…? I mean, Gabriel said an early labor was always a risk, since the beginning, and Cas was talking about how humans normally die during the birth of a nephilim, but that your case is different and that you’re healthy and everything, but with the Mark, how…? I mean, has it been...?”

Dean was pretty sure he’d never seen his brother struggle so much to form a full sentence, and that was already speaking volumes about this, so Dean took pity on him.

“Cas doesn’t want to tell me everything,” Dean admitted, “He doesn't want to make me worry too much, I think. Something about stress." Sam and Charlie both nodded, and Dean wondered if maybe Cas had mentioned something about this to them already. He chose not to ask. "But I mean, it’s not that hard to figure it out. This _is_ risky, even if everything wasn’t going completely wrong for us. I'm a _dude,_ of course this wasn't going to be easy either way, but with the Mark and Cas' Grace…” He shook his head, letting out another sigh, feeling his chest heavier already, just like it happened every time he as much as thought about this. “I know I’m not getting much further if we don’t fix both of those. Cas hasn't exactly said that, but... Again, it's not hard to add everything up.” His voice trembled at the end, and he swallowed a few times to try and get rid of the lump that had once more formed in his throat.

The looks on Sam and Charlie’s faces were pretty much identical—heavy, understanding eyes focused on his face as they both seemed to take a beat to actually register the meaning of those words. Charlie looked down, letting out a small breath, while Sam lifted his hand to run it through his hair and then moved it down to brush it over his beard.

They didn’t say anything, though, and Dean was kind of glad for that. He didn’t need to hear empty promises that they could get through this; that they would make it and it would all be fine in the end. Oddly enough that was the last thing he wanted to hear right now, because he knew nothing they said would actually make him feel better, not while Cas was still out there and he still didn’t even know if the angel was actually alive. Not when Heaven was out to kill them and there was nothing they could do but run and hide. Not when the Mark was still on his arm and Cas’ Grace was still burning out.

“There’s just one thing I don’t get,” Charlie pointed out, and they both looked up at her. “I mean, if Heaven can feel… the nephilim,” She seemed to be testing out the word on her tongue, and Dean wondered if it was the first time she was saying it, or if they just hadn’t yet used it enough to have grown accustomed to using it by now. “Then how come they just felt it now? You weren’t wearing that necklace before you met Gabriel, right? He was the one who gave it to you? So if you weren't cloaked before the whole thing in Montana, then how come they didn’t come after you before?”

Sam turned his curious eyes to Dean then, waiting for an explanation.

“They can sense the baby, but not too early. Gabriel said that only archangels can feel it at the start, and with Michael and Lucifer in the Cage, he was the only one who knew at first. Heaven can only feel the nephilim after a few months. Cas says it’s because they give out a… signal, or something, but that it’s too weak for a while. But…” He licked his dry lips, giving them a weak shrug, “I’m way past that window now.”

Sam nodded slowly, once more offering no verbal response. Charlie also nodded, but then her eyes fell down and in a second her entire demeanor changed. Her features softened without a warning, and when she looked back up there was a tiny, barely even there smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and the change was so abrupt and unexpected that it had Dean frowning in confusion at her.

Until he followed her gaze and realized that at some point he’d let his hand fall onto his bump, where it was now resting. He hadn’t even thought about it, really; had not even noticed it had happened at all until now. He’d been doing that a lot lately without even realizing it, actually, but of course never in front of Sam or Charlie.

His first instinct was to move his hand, to pull it away and pretend nothing had happened, but somehow he managed to swallow that urge and instead left his hand where it was, even when a moment later Sam finally seemed to realize it as well. No need to hide anymore, he reminded himself. The secret was out now.

Dean wasn’t sure how to read the expression on his brother’s face right then, how suddenly it had grown so unbelievably warm, eyes almost sparkling as a small smile formed on Sam’s mouth. Dean really had no idea what to do about it, so he just looked back down at Juliet, because that one was easy for him to deal with.

“You’re…”  Dean looked back up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, “You’re around four, five months along, aren’t you?”

He nodded in response. "Yeah, I'm a little over 19 weeks along, so about... four and half months, pretty much."

“But shouldn’t you be…?” She didn’t finish her question, instead letting her voice hang in the air, like she either didn’t know how to end that with or just couldn’t make herself say it out loud just yet. Dean guessed the latter.

“Showing?” he completed for her, noticing how Sam immediately perked up in his seat at the word, but Dean did his best not to look back at him so soon.

Charlie simply nodded.

Letting out a breath, Dean looked back down at his hand, the one that was still mindlessly caressing Juliet's head, for some reason finding it easier to speak when he wasn’t looking at the two in the eye. “It’s not four and a half months out of nine, it’s out of twelve. Technically, compared to, you know… normal human terms, I’m just a bit over 3 months along.”

“Cas didn’t mention that,” Sam commented.

Well, that wasn't exactly surprising. “Still,” Dean licked his lips, still feeling his mouth a bit dry, and briefly he considered drinking more water, but decided that could wait a little more just a moment later, “I started to show a little last week.” He looked up just as he said the last part, and he didn’t miss the way the pair’s eyes flew down almost at the same time, as if now that they knew there should be something there, they thought they might be able to see it. He almost chuckled at it, but didn't quite manage to let it out.

“It’s really just a little,” he told them quickly, and yet he could already feel a small smile bleeding into his lips, “The shirts still hide it pretty well. Not sure how long that’s gonna last, though.”

Neither Charlie nor Sam answered out loud, but Dean could read them easily enough, with the way both their gazes kept dropping down to his stomach every few seconds as he spoke, a silent hint of curiosity clear in their eyes. He knew what they wanted to ask without them needing to actually voice it, so he sighed and forced his hands to move before he could stop himself and realized how weird this still felt.

He unbuttoned the lower half of his shirt, sitting up a little better on the bed as he opened it, and he couldn’t help but smile a little more widely at the eager look that flooded both Sam and Charlie’s face as he did it.

The bump was still small, but there was no way of missing it now. It had grown a little in the past few days, a lot more than Dean had expected, really, and he wondered just how long it would take for his shirts to stop covering it so well. He guessed not much, at this rate.

“Can I…?” Sam looked up at Dean, snapping him out of his thoughts, and Dean was surprised by the heaviness in his brother’s voice; by the way it actually trembled. He looked up and found that Sam’s eyes were actually glistening a little bit, which took Dean completely by surprise, so much that his mind failed to understand what exactly Sam was asking him right then.

He did get it a moment later, though, once he finally noticed his brother’s slightly raised hand, and Dean nodded numbly, without really registering what he was doing.

Sam reached out slowly, uncertain, almost like he was afraid to hurt his brother somehow. His hand was shaking a little, eyes fixated on Dean’s stomach like he was looking for the precise spot to rest it on, like this was something he couldn’t possibly get wrong, like even the tiniest mistake could be disastrous.

His brother’s breath hitched once his palm finally reached Dean’s stomach, his touch light and careful. Dean felt him gradually press a little more, just enough to feel the hardness of the bump, as if to make sure it was truly real.

Sam smiled, a choked breath escaping his lips as he looked back up, and Dean found that his eyes were shining even more now, pretty much filled with unshed tears. He felt his own eyes burning in response as he took in the look on Sam’s face, at the sheer raw emotion he could see in his brother's gaze, like he could barely even contain them all, and Dean knew exactly what that felt like; what it was like to feel overwhelmed by this like Sam must be feeling right then.

Because Dean knew just how huge this was. This wasn’t him meeting an old fling from years ago and learning that she now had a kid that may or may not be his. It wasn’t him sleeping with an Amazon and one week later finding out that he had a monster daughter who was going to come for him to kill him no matter what he did.

No, this was him and Cas having a baby. This was Dean carrying their _child._

This was going to change _everything._

“Do you know if it’s…?” Sam’s voice was thick, and he swallowed once, not quite managing to let anything else out, but Dean got what he'd meant to ask easily enough.

“Cas said he could check and figure out the gender, but I… I want to wait. It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t elaborate, and Sam simply nodded, fortunately not asking or pressing for anything else, and Dean was glad for that.

He turned to Charlie then. “Well, Uncle Sammy had his turn.” Sam let out a small choked sound at the name, that smile still very much present on his lips, eyes still shining, and Dean was pretty sure the floodgates were about to open at any second now. His own eyes were stinging a lot by then, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't take too long for him to start sobbing, so there wasn’t much he could say about it. Charlie didn’t look much better than the two of them, either, so Dean didn’t even try to hide it.

So instead he flashed her a teary smile as he said, “Aunt Charlie's turn.”

Charlie smiled back at him, and something that sounded a lot like a sob tore from her lips at the last part. Sam pulled back his hand then, allowing Charlie’s to take his place, and she was quick to press it against his bump much like Sam had just done.

“There’s a baby in there,” she whispered. There was so much awe in her voice Dean couldn’t help but smile, feeling a tear running down his cheek, the first one that would for sure not be the last tonight.

He couldn't find his voice to reply, so he didn't, instead simply letting his eyes move down to rest on his bump. It really was getting bigger, and once more he wondered how long it would take for it to be obvious. There would come a time when he wouldn't be able to go out in public anymore, because that would be a tough one to explain, and he realized now that at this rate that would happen pretty soon.

“How are you feeling?”

Dean frowned as he looked back up at Sam, since the question caught him completely by surprise.

“About everything,” Sam clarified, “I mean, I just realized you didn’t really… say how you’re feeling about all this.”

Dean paused, taking a beat to respond. Charlie let her hand fall from the bump then, but Dean just let his shirt fall back in place over it, not bothering to button the two sides back together. He swallowed once, twice, thrice as he felt his throat close up a little, eyes still burning, but now for a whole different reason.

He could lie. He could say that he was fine, that he hadn’t thought too much about this, that he and Cas were just playing this by the ear and would worry about everything else later down the road, that they were just making it up as they went, dealing with one problem at a time. He could say that he preferred not to think about what would be coming next; that all he could really deal with at the moment was right now, and that he would cross whatever bridges were to come when they got to them. He could try to keep up the façade he’d been working on for so long now, carefully built up and so forcefully kept in place until now.

But there was no need for that now. He didn’t need to fucking _hide_ anymore, and that thought was just really sinking in now. Maybe it was because finally the pressure of keeping all of this a secret from them was off his shoulders, or maybe it was the hormones, he couldn't tell; all he knew was that in that moment, as he stared into Sam's warm, worried eyes, he found that he couldn't quite hold back the words that had been for so long building up inside of him anymore, words that he'd been keeping to himself for months now, locked away inside his mind as if that would somehow change them or make them any less painful, and he didn't even try to stop them.

“I’m terrified,” he breathed out, feeling a tear finally slide down his face, voice breaking a little as he spoke, but he kept going, “I can’t even think about what'll happen if we can’t do this. I didn’t… I never thought I would want anything like this to happen to me. I mean, I never wanted a kid. And I loved Ben, I really did, but that was different. It hurt to have to walk away from him and Lisa, but that wasn’t… This is not the same thing.”

He could feel a few more tears sliding down his face, but he ignored them, just as he chose to ignore the constant tremble in his voice. He took in a breath, looking back down for a beat, but eventually he managed to swallow the lump in his throat, sniffing a couple of times before pressing on, as hard as it became then to let out any more words. “I never thought I could... I never realized how much I wanted this, and I can’t… I can’t even _think_ about losing them, either of them. I can’t…” His voice actually failed him then, and he sniffed again, lifting his hand to brush a few of the tears away, even if there was no point to it.

"Dean, look at me."

Swallowing again, Dean did as Sam asked, lifting his head back up to meet his brother's gaze, and he was surprised to find that Sam's eyes were still shining, now even more than before.

“We’re gonna do this, Dean,” his brother whispered, and while there was a clear tremble to his voice, his words still sounded surprisingly firm considering that he actually seemed to be on the verge of tears right then, “Gabriel will find Cas, and we'll fix this. I don’t care what we have to do, you hear me? We’re gonna do this. We'll figure it out. We always do.”

Dean swallowed, still feeling his throat tight and his eyes burning, and while he wanted to believe Sam, wanted to let himself actually feel confident that they would find a way out of this, find a way to fix the mess that their lives were right now, he just couldn’t. Again, soothing words weren't enough to actually fix their problems.

But that didn't mean he didn't appreciate this; that it didn't make his chest feel warmer to hear the conviction in his brother's voice. It actually made Dean want to believe him.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath, sniffing, and Dean realized then that his brother might be even closer to actually crying than he'd thought. "We never... We never really talked about this. I mean, we have, but you never... Whenever the idea of actually having a family someday, I mean, of... finding someone and having kids and everything came up, every single time, you would always shut me out. Even when I made you promise to try and have a life after the Apocalypse, to go back to Lisa and Ben, you still looked at me like you couldn't believe what I was saying. And I never really got why. I wondered if maybe you just thought you didn't deserve it, or if you really just believed it was something we  _couldn't_ have. But..." Sam swallowed again, voice growing more urgent as he went on, but the tremble was still very much present in his every word. "And I know this might not be the right time for me to say this, but I'm so happy for you. In spite of everything, all problems aside, this, what you have with Cas, and now this baby..." His voice actually broke at the end, and his brother swallowed again, as if the words had gotten caught in his throat on the way out, "You've changed. You've been different ever since you and Cas actually got together, don't think I haven't noticed. It's like you're... lighter, somehow, and it's good change. I've never seen you like this. And I admit, I was a little afraid that maybe it wouldn't work out at first, and of what that might do to you two, but now..." He swallowed again, and a small, timid smile formed on his mouth, "You deserve to be happy, Dean. After everything we've been through in this life, everything we've done for this world, all we've both given up over the years, it makes me so happy to think that you might actually get that."

Dean found himself completely speechless, staring at Sam with wide, surprised eyes as his brain struggled to actually process what he'd just heard, because surely he had not expected any of that. He hadn't seen it coming at all, and now he had absolutely no idea how to even react to it. He was completely frozen, lost on what to do or what to say in response, mind completely unresponsive.

Until he realized he was actually crying now. He was startled to feel a shaky breath escaping his lips, followed by something that was way too close to a choked sob, and before he could even understand what was happening Sam had moved forward, giant arms wrapping themselves around Dean's shoulders and pulling him into a hug, and while Sam was clearly being careful not to squeeze him too much, even if he was still being very mindful of how much strength he put into the hug, Dean still felt an even bigger wave of warmness blossoming inside his chest and spreading all over his body, especially when a few seconds later he felt Charlie join in, smaller arms wounding themselves around his middle just below Sam's. He could hear them both sniffing, and he didn't even bother to try to stop the tears that followed.

He wasn't sure how to describe what he was feeling right then, but overwhelmed might be the closest word he could find for it. He wasn't even sure what to do at first, so he ended up having no immediate reaction, instead staying frozen for a long moment, arms glued to his sides as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. And it really took him a while, but eventually he did manage to snap out of it and make himself lift his arms, returning the embrance as well as he could, not caring that he was actually crying now, not even bothering to blame it on the hormones. He suddenly felt a weight being lifted from his chest, and he swore once more at himself for not telling them sooner.

This wasn't how he'd planned to do this. He'd been supposed to sit down and talk to Sam and Charlie, tell them himself about the baby, preferably with Cas sitting by his side so they could explain it all to them together. Sam and Charlie hadn't been supposed to find out the truth while Dean had been kidnapped, when Cas had had no other choice but to open up because everything was about to just basically go to hell.

And yet, even if this hadn't been planned; even if this was quite the opposite of how he'd wished for them to find out, he couldn't say this conversation had turned out badly at all. He wasn't even sure how to feel about this, all he knew that he couldn't quite make himself let go of them just yet. The tears just kept coming, but he made no effort to stop them. Instead, he just hugged Sam and Charlie even tighter, that overwhelming feeling still pooling into his insides, warmth spreading all over him, and he wasn't sure what to make of that, all he knew was that the feeling was the opposite of unpleasant, and he chose to focus on that. His chest felt so much lighter now that they knew, like a weight had actually been taken off of it; like he could actually breathe normally again.

But the thing was, he didn't fully agree with Sam. He didn't deserve this, not at all, but somehow he'd still gotten it. He'd always had it crystal clear in his head that he'd never have this, and maybe he had his father to blame for some of that, but it was still the truth—he'd just never believed someone in the life could actually get to have this. It was like giving up having a family and kids somewhere down the road just came with the job description. At some point he'd just convinced himself that he just didn't want it; that his life was supposed to be hunting and nothing else and that he was okay with that, because that was how things were supposed to be, and part of him still thought that. Things hadn't worked out with Lisa and Ben, and right now their situation was pretty much the opposite of ideal, which might also be proof of the fact that hunters just weren't supposed to have anything like this in their life.

But that didn't mean Dean didn't want this. Fuck, he'd never realized how much he'd actually wanted this, and he was going to make this work, no matter what he had to do. In spite of everything, somehow here he was—he had Cas and a baby on the way, and he had his family here with him. They weren't even upset that he had kept this a secret from them for so long; they'd just jumped right into the action to save him, and now they were here, showing him nothing more than love and support, and he could barely handle it all.

There was only one piece of the family missing, and Dean tried to ignore the heavy, painful weight that thought placed over his heart, but of course that didn't work.

And right then, in that moment, all of it just seemed like a bit too much for him. Sam and Charlie's reaction, the worry for Cas, almost losing the baby, Heaven, the Mark, Cas' Grace, the Stynes—it all rained down onto him like a downpour, abrupt and powerful like a thunderstorm, and they weight of it all was truly suffocating. He felt like he was drowning, panic settling into his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down, but that didn't work. He held onto Sam and Charlie even more tightly then, leaning on them for support, because right now they were the only solid things he had to hold on to, and he couldn't even find words to say just how thankful he was for that.

And as that thought registered in his head, for a brief moment his mind traveled back to an issue that had been plaguing his thoughts quite a lot a few weeks back, but that had vanished from his mind in the past few days, for obvious reasons. But it was back now, and in that moment he couldn't quite push it away. The weight brought on by the doubt of where Cas was; the crippling fear that maybe he might actually lose Cas and the baby now settled over his heart again, and with it came the thought that he had once more been too much of a coward to just fucking open up, and maybe now he wouldn't have the chance to.

But he didn't want to let that happen again.

He didn't let himself think. He didn't pause. He just did what felt right in that moment; what he _wanted_ to do. 

"I love you both," he whispered, breath shaking and voice breaking at every word, "I love you. I just... I just want you to know that."

He felt Sam tense up in his arms, and without even being able to actually see his face Dean already knew he'd caught his brother completely off guard, a thought that was confirmed barely a moment later when Sam abruptly pulled away from him, which made Charlie let go of him as well. And when Dean finally caught sight of his brother's face, what he saw there was no surprise to him—shock mingled with something very close to awe flooded Sam's eyes, but there was something else in there too, something even heavier and that Dean couldn't quite name.

For a moment, Sam looked completely lost, like he had absolutely no idea how to react; like he couldn't for the life of him figure out what to do or say in response to that, or like he couldn't even believe what he'd just heard.

Until finally a teary smile broke out on his lips. "You know," he said, voice just a low, weak whisper, breaking in almost every single word as he spoke, "It took you 32 years to say that to me."

Dean let out huff, shaking his head at his brother, though there was a smile on his lips.

He didn't resist when a moment later Sam pulled him into another hug, but this time Charlie didn't join in, though it wasn't hard to figure out why. This hug felt different, heavier, carrying years and years of unsaid words, and it seemed like she didn't want to intrude on that. They didn't even say anything at first, and yet Dean could understand it all simply by feeling how Sam was pretty much clinging to him right now; could read it all perfectly in the way he felt his brother hold on to him like he was afraid to let go.

And it wasn't like Sam didn't already know this; of course he did, and Dean knew that. It had gone unsaid throughout their entire lives, but it wasn't like they had ever doubted this; like this was not the only thing that had always been there; the only actual constant in their lives. But still, there was something different about actually saying it out loud like this.

"I love you too, just so you know," he heard Sam whisper to him, voice muffled and coming from somewhere very close to his right ear, and Dean smiled once more, feeling yet another shaky breath slip out of his mouth at the words, but fortunately by now he seemed to be regaining some control over himself and actually managed to hold back the sob that climbed up his throat before it could actually come out.

Eventually Dean lifted his eyes to meet Charlie's gaze, and he found her staring at the scene with shining eyes, a few tears sliding down her cheeks, leaving clear tracks over her skin as she watched the exchange silently. She smiled at him once their eyes met, lifting her hand so she could grab Dean's where it was resting on Sam's back, giving it a squeeze and mouthing the words, "I love you too."

And now he was crying again.

It took a while for them to pull away, and honestly by then Dean had no idea how much time had actually passed. Surprisingly it was Sam who pulled away first, and once he leaned back he just stared at Dean, eyes red and puffy. It looked like he was waiting for something, or maybe just measuring his brother's reaction, almost like he was expecting Dean to freak out or something, and honestly, the older Winchester couldn't really blame him for it. Dean did freeze a little then, wondering where the conversation would be going next, completely lost on what to say now.

It wasn't really much of a surprise that he hadn't done this before, honestly. He was terrible at this sort of thing.

He sniffed once, looking away from Sam and rubbing at his eyes to clean away some of the tears as he struggled to figure out the right thing to say right then, but before anyone could say anything at all, he felt something poking at his side, and he leaned away from Sam even more in surprise, only to find himself with a hellhound on his lap merely a second later. Dean had almost forgotten about Juliet, but suddenly she was just there, reclaiming her spot on top of him, sniffing at Dean curiously, like she was trying to figure out what all the crying was about, and Dean couldn't help but smile at her, chuckling softly. Honestly, he couldn't help but feel a little grateful for her interruption, because really, it registered in his head then that he had no idea where the conversation could be headed now and he wasn't sure he could handle much more, so he gladly took the chance she'd just provided him with and lifted a hand to pet her head.

"Well, it looks like someone got jealous," he commented, smiling down at the hound.

"She really does like you, doesn't she?" Charlie asked, voice low and soft, almost like he was hesitant to speak at all.

Dean shrugged lightly, "I think she just likes attention, really."

"You should rest, Dean,” Sam pointed out, voice hoarse and breaking as he spoke, and Dean tore his gaze away from the hellhound to look up at his brother, finding Sam's eyes were still very much red, but they looked soft now, warm, a small smile still playing on his lips. He didn't look bothered by the interruption at all, and Dean assumed his brother just knew him well enough to be able to tell when Dean was starting to feel a little too overwhelmed. "You need it."

Once more, Dean wanted to protest. He actually opened his mouth to complain, to tell Sam that he was fine, but the twin looks he got from the pair made him change his mind about it before any word could actually jump from his lips.

He was exhausted, and he knew it must be showing. It would be pointless to try to argue with them about this.

And honestly, Sam and Charlie also looked like they needed some rest, so maybe they would actually go and care of that if they left him alone now. He had his doubts about it, but he really hoped they wouldn't keep pushing themselves for his sake like this. They'd already done more than enough.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice weak as he nodded, “Okay.”

Sam looked relieved to hear that, as apparently he'd been expecting Dean to put up a little bit more of a fight about that one, but he was quick to cover it up and nod once at his brother in response. And once that matter was settled, Sam and Charlie started gathering the stuff they'd brought in with Dean's food, except for the glass that still had some water in it, instead leaving it on the nightstand. Dean felt bad as he watched them move around him, because they really shouldn't be doing everything for him. He wanted to help and he could clean up after himself, but he had a feeling arguing with them about this now would be pointless. He was too tired for it right now, anyway, so he decided to just deal with it later.

Sam and Charlie left shortly after, announcing that they would leave him alone to rest but that he could just call if he wanted anything, which didn't make him very happy, because that meant they might not be planning to get any rest themselves, but once more Dean recognized a lost argument when he saw one, so he'd just nodded in response, and in the next moment the two were closing the door softly behind them as they walked out of the room.

Dean let out a breath as soon as he was alone, letting himself rest back against the headboard behind him, feeling his entire body sag a little. Worry quickly started to seep back into him as he reached out for the bond again, but just like before, he got nothing in response. With every hour that passed, he grew more convinced that Cas was still alive, because he and the baby were still here, relatively fine, but that didn’t mean that the angel was okay. Dean knew for a fact that could not be true right now, not after being banished with borrowed Grace like he had, and with Heaven after them now and Cas as weak as he was, how the hell was Dean supposed not to worry?

At least the Mark wasn't bothering him all that much anymore. It was still burning a little, but the feeling was almost dulled, easy to ignore. He wondered what that could mean, and it occurred to him that maybe the Mark was just charging up to try again later; that it was quiet now because it was preparing itself, waiting for the next opportunity it would get, and that thought immediately sent a chill down his spine.

He tried to push all those thoughts away, telling himself that he could do nothing right now and that worrying himself sick would do the opposite of helping, but that was easier said than done. With a sigh, he decided he really should just try to rest a little, both because he was tired and to try and calm himself down at least a little, and he had just gently pushed Juliet off of him and was about to actually lie down properly on the bed when he realized that he had to pee.

He definitely wasn't going to be able to rest if he didn't take care of that problem, so he decided to go do just that. He moved silently, carefully getting to his feet and walking over to the door of the room, and he was glad to realize that Juliet didn't attempt to follow him, instead simply watching his movements with careful eyes from her spot on the bed as he made his way out of the bedroom and across the hallway. He closed the door silently behind himself once he reached the bathroom, and once he was done in there and walked out about a minute later, he was glad to realize that neither Sam nor Charlie had heard him move around and come to check on him. At least they were letting him wander around a little on his own now, so that was good.

He still moved quietly as he made his way back into the bedroom, though, just to be sure, and once he got there he noticed Juliet had not moved at all on the bed. He smiled softly at her as he buried himself under the duvet once more, turning off the lights. He was feeling truly exhausted at this point, and even if it was the last thing he wanted to do right now, he knew he should probably try to sleep a little. Again, if his body was asking for it, then his baby needed it as well.

Oddly enough he wasn't worried about sleeping beside a hellhound, and he chose not to think too much about that. He just petted Juliet a little on the head, watching as she moved even closer to him as he did it, literally pressing herself against his side, curling up like she intended to take a nap. Again, he tried not to think too much about that as he stopped the petting and got himself comfortable on the bed as well, hugging a pillow to his chest.

Even with Juliet there, the bed felt cold and empty beside him, and he hated it.

The room was pretty dark, even with the light coming from the hallway slipping inside the room through the gap under the door, which Dean knew wouldn’t be enough to keep him awake at this point. He was still worried out of his freaking mind, of course, and he didn’t want to sleep, but he knew it was a pointless fight to even try to stay awake now, as already he could feel his eyelids drooping, heavy with exhaustion.

And soon enough, just as he'd expected, Dean slipped into a dreamless, restless sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

What Dean hadn’t expected was to be woken barely three hours later by Gabriel landing heavily inside the room, carrying a wheezing, bleeding, barely conscious Cas in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Warning (with details):_ Cas getting banished will allow the Mark to trigger an early labor, but Gabriel and Crowley manage to stop it in time. Dean has several contractions, but **he will not lose the baby.** If you wish to skip those two scenes, the start and end of both of them are in bold. Below are more detailed directions on how to skip both scenes and a description of what happens in those parts so you're not lost if you skip them.  
>   
>  _What parts to skip:_
> 
> The first scene begins at **"All air left Dean's lungs at once,"**. Start reading again at **"In reality, it all happened too quickly;"**
> 
> The second scene begins at **"It started ringing before he could even unlock the screen."** and ends at **"Finally, the chanting stopped."**  
>   
>  _Descriptions:_
> 
> The first scene is the beginning of the early labor in Dean's POV. He feels Cas getting banished and then the contractions start, and they hurt so much he's very disoriented. At some point he notices Crowley is on the phone talking to who appears to be Sam, but Dean can't really pay attention to the conversation as he is in too much pain. Eventually he manages to tell Crowley that he's in labor.
> 
> On the second scene, now in Sam's POV, Crowley informs Sam that Dean is in labor and brings both Sam and Charlie to the cabin where he is. There, Sam prays to Gabriel, and that leads to Dean finding out that Sam and Charlie know about the baby, as in his prayer Sam literally says, "Dean is losing the baby." Dean looks shocked to hear that from him, but doesn't manage to say anything about it as, again, he is in too much pain. Gabriel shows up, and he has a spell ready, so he attempts to stop the contractions while Crowley fights off the Mark. They eventually succeed.
> 
> -
> 
> New Character Tag: _Crowley's Hellhound Juliet_
> 
> See? I told you there would be tears. ;)
> 
> Little fun fact: the first part of this chapter was actually supposed to be the last scene of chapter 20, which was originally supposed to end with Dean realizing he's in labor. But that chapter turned out way too long, and with the season 12 finale still so fresh in everyone's minds, I just thought leaving you guys with a cliffhanger like that might be a little too evil, so I moved that scene over to this chapter. You're welcome. ;P
> 
> Okay, so, I have a little question to make. I have been debating with myself about adding an idea to this story for quite a while (over a year, actually), and I've actually postponed asking about this for as long as I possibly could, but I cannot decide whether or not I should really do it. I really want to do it, and I've hinted at it a little in previous chapters, but I'll just go on and ask a question now because I haven't really gotten many opinions on it, and then maybe I can finally figure out if I'm making any sense in even considering it. *nervous laugh*
> 
> What is you guys' opinion on the subject of wings? ;) ;)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from behind the corner*
> 
> Okay, okay, I know, this took me freaking forever. XD And I'm really sorry for the long wait, but everything just kind of went wrong with this update. Real life got hectic and this chapter had way too many problems, and whenever I thought I would manage to post soon things just went wrong again and that didn't happen, so in the end I didn't manage to update in August at all, and I'm sorry for that. :(
> 
> Honestly, I don't think I've ever worked so hard on a chapter as I did on this one. I kid you not, I have been trying to edit and post this chapter for over a month now, but somehow something always went wrong. I hope you guys can forgive me for that, especially for all the times I set a date for the update and it just didn't happen. I tried my best, but these past two months were a little crazy and hectic for me, so that kind of threw off my whole schedule. :/
> 
> So please accept this 53k words long chapter as my apology for not posting a chapter in over two months.<3 ;)
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone for all the wonderful comments I got on the last chapter.<3 :) I wasn't expecting so many, and it really made me so happy to read all you guys' responses. Seriously, thank you so much!<333 :) And the vast majority of the responses I got about the wings topic were very positive, so I'm very excited to announce that I will be adding them to the story very soon! :) I've already added a couple of new tags, too, though I'll address that matter in the end notes. ;)
> 
> I'd also like to thank you all for the immense support I've been getting on this fic. It's just amazing to see all you guys' comments and kudos. You have no idea how happy each one of them makes me. Thank you all so much!<33 :)
> 
> I think I should also point out that, with this chapter, we just went over half a million words on this story, which is both amazing and kind of insane. XD
> 
> Lastly, a huge thanks to the special muffin that is my best friend for cheering me on and messaging me every day for the past whole month to constantly remind me that I was late with the update and to try to get me to edit faster.<3 :) (All the while enduring my endless whining, I might add. XD)
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of wounds care.

For a brief, short moment, Dean was simply relieved.

The sight of Cas right there, right in front of him, suddenly lifted the heavy, suffocating weight that had been placed over his chest hours ago. The crippling fear of not knowing whether or not the angel was even alive had been very insistently squeezing at his heart up until now, even as he’d tried his best to push it away; tried not to think about it or even consider it as a possibility at all, but now that fear was finally gone, stomped down like the last few embers of a dying flame, because Cas was _here, alive._

Of course, that relief melted away as soon as Dean actually took in the angel’s state.

Cas’ breathing was way too heavy—it sounded pained, wheezy, much like it had been that night back in the cabin in Absarokee, when the angel had had that terrifyingly high fever after he'd cast the spell that had pretty much drained him as he’d tried to break the soul bond, minus the incoherent mumbling in Enochian. The sound of the air both entering and leaving the angel’s mouth and nose was very similar to what Dean had witnessed that night, but somehow the actions seemed even more struggled now, like Cas’ airways were clogged, or way too small; like the angel wasn’t getting enough air and couldn’t possibly breathe enough to fix it, no matter how hard he tried. It actually sounded like he was suffocating.

Dean shot up on the bed at the sight of Gabriel struggling to keep Cas upright against his side, even with one of the seraph’s arms wrapped around his shoulders to try and give Cas the support he needed to stand. The hunter all but leaped from the bed without thinking, acting purely on instinct, and then one second later he realized that maybe he shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have moved so abruptly, as pushing himself was not something advisable for him right now. He certainly shouldn’t take any risks after what had happened earlier, but as he felt no pain or negative reaction from his body once he was back on his feet, he pushed the thought aside and hastily took the two steps that still separated him from the pair, hurrying to help Gabriel support Cas’ weight, as Dean was afraid the archangel might actually drop him, wrapping the seraph’s other arm around his own shoulders and helping Gabriel carry him across the room.

They laid Cas down onto the bed gently, and Dean was quick to sit down beside him. The angel seemed to be just on the verge of unconsciousness, so Dean was actually surprised when Cas’ hand shot up to grip his arm, pulling the human forward and even closer. The seraph’s blue eyes were wide and unfocused, but after a moment they finally seemed to settle on Dean’s face, and his hold on the human’s arm grew even tighter, more desperate.

“D—De…”

“Shhh,” Dean tried soothe him, using his other hand to brush some of the hair away from the angel’s face, and as he touched Cas’ forehead, he felt a wave of dread washing over his insides at the heat that immediately jumped to his palm, because that was definitely a pretty bad fever settling in.

His eyes moved quickly, taking in the several cuts covering a worryingly big portion of the seraph’s skin, and there wasn’t even that much skin visible right now to begin with. In addition to that, Dean could also see several patches of what looked like dirt clinging to Cas' body and clothes, and in result both the blood and the dirt stained a considerably high number of parts of the angel’s body in very sickly looking mixtures of red and brown—on his cheeks, neck, hands, and probably on various other places that were currently hidden from sight under his clothes, though there were also several clear rips to the fabric of those, many of which were also stained in both blood and mud. Dean swallowed drily at the sight, but he chose not to comment on any of it right now, filing away the thought to check Cas over once they were alone to see if there was anything else that he should be worried about; more wounds that needed tending to, but he could deal with that later.

Right now, Cas was looking at him like he couldn’t quite figure out if the hunter was really there or not, like the angel wasn’t sure if what his eyes were seeing might be nothing more than a mere illusion. The way his hand gripped Dean’s arm—firmly, clinging to the human like he feared Dean would suddenly melt away right then and there if his grip wasn't strong enough—only cemented that theory even more in the hunter’s mind, as it seemed like Cas felt the need to touch him and cling to him in such a desperate way in order to prove to himself that the Dean in front of him was in fact real. And even without hearing it, Dean already knew exactly what question the seraph was trying to ask; which words Cas was currently struggling to push out of his mouth, and briefly the human wondered if the angel was projecting his thoughts somehow. He lifted a hand to lay it over Cas’ just as he heard hurried steps coming closer to the room, thudding heavily against the floor out in the hallway, followed by the sound of the door behind him being pushed open abruptly, but he didn’t turn around to look at Sam and Charlie right now, keeping his eyes focused solely on Cas’ face.

“We’re fine, Cas,” he whispered, squeezing the angel’s hand to give Cas something even more solid to hold on to, to make sure he knew that this was real, “We’re okay. We’re both okay.”

Cas’ entire body seemed to sag in relief at those words, and he did try to speak again, even going as far as parting his lips and letting them shape themselves around a soundless syllable, but the angel didn’t manage to get even one single word out of his mouth before his muscles suddenly went limp, head falling back against the pillow and eyes slipping closed as consciousness finally escaped him. It happened very abruptly, as if a button had been pressed, and Dean felt his heart clench with worry as he wondered what that could possibly mean.

Fuck, this was bad. That banishing sigil had done a lot of damage to Cas, maybe even more than Dean had imagined up until now, maybe even too much.

He pushed that thought away.

“He’s got a fever,” he finally announced, turning his head to look up at Gabriel, who was still standing beside the bed, giving the archangel an urgent look, “We need to get it down.”

He was surprised to see the archangel shaking his head at him.

“It won’t work. Not this time.” Gabriel sounded tired; the words were pretty much breathed out as he spoke, voice unexpectedly weak, so much that Dean found himself doing a double take to actually look at him then, shifting his attention away from Cas for just a moment. Gabriel’s skin was paler than it would be considered healthy, and it was only then that Dean realized how truly spent he looked, exhausted even. He’d really worn himself out while looking for Cas, it seemed, so much that Dean had to actually pause to consider him for a beat, to try and actually process what he was seeing before speaking again, as he was completely taken aback by the archangel’s state.

But he didn’t have the time to wonder about that right now, no matter just how intrigued and surprised he felt about it.

“It worked before. Why wouldn’t it work now?” Dean questioned instead.

“I assume you remember what I said about how at some point your soul wouldn’t be able to balance out the waste of his Grace. You know, how at some point the Mark would be so strong and his Grace so low that your soul might not be able to help him recharge as well as it did before?”

Dean swallowed, feeling his heart grow heavier inside his chest at those words, as he had a feeling he knew very well where Gabriel was going with that, but still he nodded. Of course he remembered it; he recalled that fact all too well, and he’d heard a phantom echo of those words for months, as they'd haunted his thoughts since the very first time he’d heard them from the archangel back in Montana.

“Well, we might be getting close to that point now, so that fever won’t go down easily,” Gabriel explained, “That banishing sigil took too much of a blow to Cassie's Grace, and so he can’t recharge as much as he needs to. All we can do right now is leave him near you and hope the proximity to your soul might help. Putting him in a tub of ice won’t lower that fever. It might do him more bad than good at this point.”

Swallowing drily yet again, Dean looked back down at Cas, feeling his heart tighten even more in his chest at the sight of the passed out angel. That dull ache he’d been feeling in the bond ever since he’d woken up in this cabin hours ago was still there, although it felt a lot fainter now. That thought did very little to soothe him, however, as he realized now that he hadn't been feeling that pain because Cas had still been gone, because he’d been banished, but because the seraph’s Grace was running _too low,_ and that thought was truly terrifying _._ Dean had  _known_  that ache just felt way too similar to what he’d felt back at the Bunker weeks ago, when Cas had broken him out of one of the Mark's mind tricks in the bathroom, though not without earning himself a broken nose in the process. Dean had  _known_ , and yet part of him had simply refused to give that thought much credit, probably in denial about the true gravity of their situation.

This was bad. This was _so very bad._ He had known that Cas being banished couldn’t cause anything good, that it would make everything a lot more complicated and risky, but this was even worse than what he’d imagined.

Dean couldn’t even tell what Cas was feeling through the bond in that moment, which had all sorts of alarms going off inside the human’s head. The ache was a lot different now, but he wasn't sure what to make of the change. Now he just felt something… bad, like a dull throbbing in his chest; like there was something lodged between his ribs, pressing down at his heart with every beat of it. The feeling of wrongness from before was even stronger now; the tightness in his chest that he knew must be an echo of Cas’ own discomfort just as insistent as it had been earlier, something that he could no longer ignore, but that was really all he could pick up on right now. The bond still felt oddly weak, a lot number than it should when Cas was literally here, right in front of him, barely a few inches away and within arm’s reach, and that only made Dean even more worried; only sent an even more painful stab of pain digging into his chest, because did that mean that Cas’ Grace was too weak to even keep the bond strong enough for Dean to tell what the angel was feeling? Was the connection so weak because Cas was actually dying right in front of him?

The single thought of it made the rock of worry sitting in Dean’s stomach even heavier.

“Does that mean that he's...? I mean, is he…?” Sam asked from somewhere behind him, and it was only then that Dean allowed his head to turn so he could glance over at the door, at last catching sight of both Sam and Charlie standing a few feet away from the bed. They looked worried, eyes glued to Cas, bodies tense and clearly prepared to move or do something in case their help was needed, but clearly they were both very hesitant to step forward while that wasn’t the case, as if afraid to get too close or intrude somehow; as if they might somehow make things worse by being too close to Cas right now, even if that didn’t quite make sense.

It was also only then that Dean noticed Juliet standing beside the bed, eyeing Dean with curious red eyes, head peeking over the edge of the mattress. Once his gaze found her, she tilted her head a bit to the side as one of her ears lowered itself considerably, as if she was silently asking him a question, and for some reason she didn’t seem willing to get back up on the bed just yet. Dean hadn’t even realized she had jumped down from it at all until then, but he guessed the commotion when Gabriel had first landed inside the room must have spooked her a bit.

“It’s his Grace.” Dean turned his head back around at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, only to watch as the archangel sat down heavily onto the edge of the bed, his entire body sagging without a warning, like a puppet that had suddenly had its strings cut, leaving him with nothing but heavy, useless limbs. Eyeing him curiously for only a short beat, Dean was once more startled to realize how truly drained he looked. Searching for Cas had clearly not been easy for him. The archangel even let out a heavy breath, an actual tired sigh that seemed to make his body seem even heavier and his shoulders hang even lower as he added, “It’s almost out.”

The words hung heavily inside the room, sounding oddly final, floating in the air around their heads like a dark cloud, as though the foretelling of a curse. For close to a minute, no one said anything, as if needing a moment to process what they’d just heard, to properly let the news sink in. Dean suddenly felt his tongue heavy in his mouth, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to let even a single syllable out, the weight of Gabriel’s words rendering him completely speechless.

Sam was the one to finally break the silence. “We need to find it, then, and fast.” He turned his gaze to Dean, eyes oddly determined. Dean could see an unexpected spark in them, something he hadn’t been quite prepared to see just yet, nor did he know where it had come from, but he understood it a moment later as his brother added, “Hannah gave you the spell, didn’t she?”

Gabriel seemed to perk up a bit at those words. “Spell?” he asked, turning to give Dean an inquiring look, one eyebrow rising curiously up to his forehead in a silent question.

Dean didn’t immediately answer, though, instead simply nodding at his brother and choosing to get up to his feet, wordlessly moving over to where his bag was still on the floor. He slowly crouched down in front of it, using a hand to grip the mattress beside him for support to make sure he wasn’t making too much effort with his torso, as he was still afraid of what that could lead to; of what pushing his body too far or moving too quickly might cause. He couldn’t take any risks with this, so he knew he had to be careful. He had to make sure the baby was safe.

Fortunately nothing happened, and he quickly unzipped his bag open, ignoring how he could pretty much feel everyone’s eyes on him as he dug around inside of it for a moment, until finally he found what he’d been looking for.

“We had this idea a while ago,” he explained as he finally looked back up, now gripping the small piece of paper he’d scribbled the feathers spell on a few days ago in his hand. The vague words earned him yet another raised eyebrow from Gabriel—a clear question for him to elaborate, Dean noticed, so he did. “We’ve had some of Cas’ feathers stored away for years now, just in case we could, you know, use them for a spell someday.” Dean refrained from telling Gabriel that they actually had feathers from a whole bunch of other angels, including one from the archangel himself, because Cas might not have been offended by it or found it a big deal at all, but he wasn’t sure what Gabriel might think of that new information, so Dean decided they were in no position to risk upsetting him right now and just didn’t mention it. “So we asked Hannah if there was a spell or any way to track Cas’ Grace through his feathers, and she found a spell in Heaven’s archives that can apparently do that.”

Gabriel actually looked surprised to hear that, and both his eyebrows shot up this time. Dean lifted himself back up to his feet slowly at the sight, once more using the bed beside him as leverage so he wouldn’t strain himself too much. He didn’t miss the way how Sam stepped forward a little as he did it, but then stopped himself from going any further in the next second, like he’d been about to try and help his brother stand back up, but had changed his mind about it just a moment later. Dean didn’t comment on it, of course, instead choosing to simply step forward and hand Gabriel the paper containing the spell.

In a second the archangel’s eyes were dancing over the ingredients and instructions for the spell, darting back and forth as he read the words written on the paper, growing completely silent as he did it. And maybe it was just Dean’s mind trying to be optimistic without his consent, but the hunter could swear he could see some of Gabriel’s color coming back to his face as the pause stretched on, as well as the usual spark flooding back into the archangel’s eyes, and even if maybe he shouldn’t, the human allowed just a tiny bit hope to blossom in his chest at the sight.

“Smart,” Gabriel finally announced, not even for a second tearing his gaze away from the paper, “Never been done before, as far as I can tell. This must be new, honestly, probably less than two thousand years old. They probably crafted this after I made a break for it, because I never even heard of anything of this sort.” Well, Dean guessed that for a dude who was a few billions of years old, then something that was less than two thousand years old would be considered new. He chose not to comment on it, though. “Probably something they cooked up for a specific case, too; to track down a rogue, I would assume. But honestly, this might actually work. I’m not sure how whatever wards Metatron probably put around Castiel’s Grace might make it harder or mess it up a bit, but this is worth a shot.”

Even if most of those words were supposed to be positive, Dean still felt his stomach drop down to his feet at the last part. The weak spark of hope in his chest wavered, deflating like a balloon poked with a needle, and he swallowed drily before asking, “What, you think the spell won’t work because of the wards?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t know. Again, I have no idea what that damn weasel actually did to Cassie’s Grace. We don’t even know if there’s any of it left to begin with. Metatron might have used everything for the spell, I honestly have no idea. That spell had never been done before, as you might be able to imagine.”

Dean had been aware of that possibility, of course. The fear that maybe Metatron’s spell had indeed used up all of Cas’ Grace and that the bastard had only lied about there being any left to save his own ass had of course crossed Dean’s mind a couple of times by now, and it just hurt so much to even think about that scenario, so actually hearing those words coming from Gabriel of all people felt like a stab right to his chest.

If there wasn’t any of Cas’ Grace left, if this really was nothing more than a wild goose chase, then they really were doomed—all three of them.

Dean pushed that thought away quickly, though, refusing to even imagine how that particular scenario would play out in the end, because he _couldn’t_ lose hope about this. He couldn’t even _think_ about what would happen in that case.

“If there is some left, though,” Sam was the one to speak, and Dean felt grateful for it, because he couldn’t quite manage it at the moment, “Will the spell still work if Metatron really warded it?”

Gabriel seemed to think about the matter for a beat, which certainly did not make Dean feel any better about this. His confidence on this plan was fading worryingly fast.

“Even if Cassie’s Grace is hidden, any sort of warding of this sort should be… limited. If Cassie’s Grace is in fact on Earth, even if cloaked in any way, then this spell should give us at least a general area. You can’t completely hide an angel’s Grace; it always leaves a trace. And from then on, from the moment we know at least in what direction to go from here, then I’m pretty sure the little mutt over there might be able to sniff his Grace out. You can’t really hide anything from a hellhound.”

Dean’s head snapped to the side, following Gabriel’s gaze, finding that Juliet still hadn’t moved from her spot beside the bed since the last time he’d looked at her. As soon as he met her gaze again, she whined, sniffing at the air before her as her tail wagged a little, like she was once again attempting to ask him a silent question; as though she was wondering if now she was allowed to jump back onto the bed. In spite of everything, he couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight for only a moment, though he still ignored her and soon enough turned his head back around to give Gabriel an inquiring look, and fortunately the hellhound didn’t actually leap onto the bed as he knew she probably wanted to do right now. She must somehow be able to feel how heavy the air was inside the room, he assumed, so that sort of explained why she was acting so hesitant.

“Can she track down Cas’ Grace, then?” Dean asked. Crowley had mentioned how she had been able to sniff out his soul without a problem, even with the powerful cloaking the Stynes had put around him, so if they gave Juliet one of Cas’ feathers, should she be able to find his Grace? It did make sense, now that Dean thought about it. If hellhounds could in fact track down souls, then surely that should also apply to an angel’s Grace. Could that be the answer they had been looking for all along? “Wouldn’t that be easier than doing the spell, then? We can just give her one of the feathers to sniff right now.”

“She should be able to find it, but not right now.” Dean frowned at Gabriel, wordlessly asking for a better explanation, and the archangel shrugged at him, shaking his head lightly. “We don’t even know if there is anything to find. And even if there is, Castiel’s Grace might not even be on Earth. Hell, it might not even be in this universe for all we know. And even if it is on this planet, it might be at the bottom of the ocean, or buried thousands of feet under the ground in freaking Antarctica. We don’t have time to wait around for a hellhound to roam the entirety of this Earth trying to blindly follow the trace of Castiel’s Grace, especially when there might not even be anything for her to find to begin with.”

Dean’s mind really wanted to latch on to the whole ‘this universe’ part of that whole speech, and a question even formed on his tongue about that, but he swallowed it back, deciding this wasn’t the time for that conversation, whatever the fuck that turned out to be about. Maybe later, sometime down the road when all of their lives were not hanging by a fucking thread. All he should be doing right now was hoping that there was enough of Cas’ Grace left and that no other fucking universe was involved; that it was here, on Earth, hidden but still reachable. He didn’t even want to think about another possible scenario.

And as he forced his mind to focus on the portion of those words that he could actually deal with right now, he realized Gabriel’s arguments did make sense, as much as he wished things might have been as simple as just giving Juliet a feather to sniff and then letting her loose so she could track down Cas’ Grace. Of course the hellhound wouldn’t be able to just easily find Cas’ Grace, or at least not as fast as they needed her to, so trying the spell was really their best option right now.

So Dean forced himself to nod numbly in response, even if he wasn’t particularly happy with what he was hearing. Every time Gabriel as much as mentioned how there might not be any of Cas’ Grace left, the hunter felt like the archangel was hitting the side of his skull with a hammer, each time cracking the bone even more, each blow more painful than the previous, because it just hurt too fucking much to even think about it.

So he chose not to, yet again pushing all the unwanted thoughts swimming around in his head away, instead focusing on something he could deal with; something that might actually help Cas right now. “So, can you find all the ingredients for the spell?”

Gabriel didn’t comment on the change of subject, fortunately, instead letting his eyes fall back onto the list. He nodded slowly, “Some of the ingredients might be a bitch to find, but I can make it work.”

“We have a lot of them back at the Bunker,” Sam offered.

Gabriel nodded again, though he didn’t seem very happy to hear that. “I’ll go fetch whatever the Men of Letters have stored once I’m…” He took in a breath and then let it out slowly in the form of yet another tired sigh, shaking his head lightly, and once more his body sagged a little, “Recharged, at least a little. Finding Castiel took way more than I thought it would, and the last thing I need right now is to run into a brigade of angels waiting for you all to get home.”

“They shouldn’t be able to get in,” Sam provided, “I mean, if they can’t just fly inside. They should be locked out.”

“And they… they still don’t know that the nephilim is ours,” Dean pointed out, firmly hanging on to that feeble, weak thread of hope he still had concerning the whole Heaven situation. Cas had said that the angels shouldn’t be able to tell who exactly the nephilim belonged to even if they were able to sense it at some point, and all the hunter could do right now was hope with everything he had in him that the seraph had been right about that one. “They shouldn’t even know that they’re looking for, well… _us._ ”

Gabriel didn’t immediately agree, letting silence linger inside the room for a yet another pause, and Dean felt his stomach sink down to his feet.

“They should not be able to tell who the nephilim belongs to, that is true. However,” Of course there was a fucking ‘however’; _of fucking course._ “We can’t just assume they don’t know. Once Heaven catches the signal of a nephilim, they know where it’s coming from and can track it, but they indeed have no way to know what angel actually created the hybrid. Still, last I heard, our dear family wasn’t too happy with Castiel, so maybe, just maybe, they might have decided to check where Cassie has been, so if they did manage to track him down while he wasn’t cloaked, and if that location just so happens to be the same place they got the signal for the nephilim from…”

Dean swallowed drily, a wave of dread yet again pooling into his insides, because that did seem like the most probable scenario, as much as he wished it didn’t. Heaven had kicked Cas out, so if the angels had in fact decided to check whether or not the one angel they had apparently decided to collectively hate just happened to be anywhere near the nephilim they had just found out about, then they might have found that Cas had also been in Branson, and it shouldn't be hard for them to draw any conclusions from then on.

So much for trying to be hopeful about this.

“These wards should prevent that, though, so you’re all safe in here,” Gabriel continued, “But I still have to know—did Castiel come here before this cabin was warded? Because if so, then we need to move these two right now.”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “Charlie and I warded this place, and Crowley kind of just... supervised. Cas stayed behind in Branson while we did it.”

And this was probably the reason for that, Dean reasoned. Maybe Cas had been aware of this particular risk and had been afraid of Heaven tracking him down to the safe house they had created for Dean. And okay, at least that meant that they shouldn’t be worried about any angels finding them here, true, but Dean couldn’t quite ignore the icy cold fear that plagued his thoughts now that he knew there was a chance Heaven might have put two and two together by now and know that the nephilim was Cas’.

Fuck, everything, absolutely _every damn thing_ was going wrong for them, and Dean had no idea how to fix any of it.

“Either way,” Gabriel continued, apparently oblivious to Dean’s internal turmoil, “I’m not taking any risks, especially not as weak as I am.” He stood back up then, stretching a little, and Dean didn’t miss the wince that bled into his features as he did it, even if the archangel clearly tried to cover it up. Dean wondered if he was in pain, and he assumed that must be the case. “I’ll look for whatever I can find on my own before making a stop at your Batcave—the rarest stuff that I doubt the Men of Letters _could_ get their hands on. But first…”

He turned to Cas again, hesitating for a moment before lifting his right hand, moving it forward until it was resting on seraph’s chest. He took another breath, then closed his eyes, a frown of concentration quickly forming in his brows.

Dean felt a rush he didn’t understand running down his spine, spreading over his entire body in only a second, right down to his fingertips, followed by a weird burning feeling that seemed to pour into his chest without a warning. The burn lingered for a moment, causing a very odd sting on the skin on the right side of his chest, like there was something being pressed against it, hot enough to burn the skin, though the feeling lasted for only a second before everything was completely gone, fading away without a warning, as if nothing had happened at all.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, lifting his hand to rub at the spot he’d felt the pain in.

“A very special kind of warding,” Gabriel explained, pulling his hand back and opening his eyes again, straightening himself back up as he spoke, “This house is cloaked, and you should be safe and hidden in this place, so Heaven shouldn’t be able to find any of you while you’re in here, but it’s best to take precautions, trust me. What I just did should be enough to mess up the signal of Cas’ natural frequency that the Host receives, so Heaven can’t quite get a hold of where he is or where the signal is coming from, because it gets all jumbled and messed up on their end, like meaningless static. It’s how I’ve been hiding from them for, well, a couple of millennia now.”

“But didn’t you say you were cut off?” Sam asked, “They can still track you like that?”

“I am cut off, but again, that just means I’m not using Heaven’s energy. Technically, I’m still… connected to Heaven. I don’t call attention to myself, so they shouldn’t notice me, but if they try to look for me, normally they would be able to find me. Angels and humans are like that. It’s annoying—we’re all just… bound to the Host. That’s how Heaven can track angels and humans literally anywhere if you’re not properly hidden. It’s what they might have done to Cassie, I’m afraid. They have the natural signature of every single soul in existence, and they can easily track it, no matter where you are.”

Dean wasn’t sure what the whole ‘being cut off’ talk was about, but as curious as he was about that, he didn’t comment on it. Sam did seem to know what Gabriel was referring to, anyway, so he assumed this must be something they’d talked about while Dean had been out. If he really wanted to know about it, he could just ask his brother about it later.

“So you basically just marked his ribs?” Dean inquired instead.

“No,” Gabriel shook his head, “That’s what I did to your redhead friend over there, but that’s just for humans.” Dean glanced over at Charlie, frowning a little, feeling confused (and a little surprised) by those words, as that was certainly news to him. He didn’t know Gabriel had marked Charlie’s ribs at all, but maybe the archangel also done that while Dean had been out, so the human didn’t question it. Instead, he simply turned back to the archangel in silence, waiting for the rest of the explanation. “It doesn’t work the same way for angels. I mean, it helps, but trust me when I say that those markings aren’t nearly as effective as they are for humans. What I did now was add a sigil to his skin, which should be enough to hide him for now. That should have marked you too, by the way. It should brand any vessel Castiel’s Grace is currently occupying, so because of the soul bond, it should have bled into you too.”

Well, that explained why Dean had felt the weird sting too, at least. He moved a hand to rub the spot where he'd felt the burn over his shirts once more, wondering if he really had a mark there now. “So it’s like, what, a tattoo?”

Gabriel shrugged, “Kind of, yeah, if you wanna look at it like that.”

Dean simply nodded, unsure of what to say in response.

No one said anything during the pause that followed, and for a long moment, the silence lingered. At some point Dean shifted a bit on the bed, letting his eyes fall back to Cas’ face, noticing how the angel’s breathing seemed to have finally started going back to normal now. It sounded a lot less strained, at least, as Cas didn't seem to be struggling as much as he had before to both pull in air and let it out, so that was good.

Eventually Dean noticed Gabriel straightening up a little more from the corner of his eye, and the human turned his head to look back at the archangel, finding him staring at Dean with an oddly heavy look in his eyes. The hunter had no idea what to make of it, but for some reason the sight rendered him completely quiet, so the human didn’t get the chance to ask him about it.

“Stay with him,” the archangel instructed, still looking at Dean, voice firm, leaving no room for argument or any question whatsoever. It wasn’t like Dean was going to fight him on that, though. He doubted he could leave Cas’ side right now, even if he actually had to. “Your soul is the only thing keeping him alive right now. I’m assuming that bond is the only reason why that sigil didn’t actually kill him, so the closer you two are, the better. He probably won't wake up for a while, though. He has a lot of healing to do.”

Dean wasn't exactly surprised by those words, so once again all he did was nod, yet unable to find his voice to say anything in response.

That changed quickly, though, as in the moment that followed the air in the room seemed to shift, and he could easily tell that Gabriel was about to just vanish in the thin air by the way the archangel stood up even straighter and squared his shoulders, as though ready to take flight.

So before that could happen, Dean blurted out, “Gabriel, wait.”

The archangel paused, turning his head to look back at the hunter, raising an inquiring eyebrow at the human.

Dean licked his lips, feeling his words get caught in his throat for a moment, and he swallowed once to try and let them out. Fortunately that did seem to help, and after a beat he finally managed to force the question that had been weighing down heavily on shoulders since the day before, all but haunting his thoughts up until now, out of his lips, “What are we going to do about Heaven? I mean, what _can_ we do?”

The shift on Gabriel’s expression was a surprise—his face seemed to fall a little at first, which told Dean that he hadn't been quite expecting to hear question at all, or else he probably would not have allowed his reaction to show so easily, but quickly his features softened in a way Dean had never quite seen from him before. If Dean didn’t know better, he would have thought the archangel actually looked _sad._

“One thing at a time, Dean-o,” Gabriel shook his head lightly at him, voice nothing more than a tired, weak whisper, words barely breathed out as he spoke, “One thing at a time.”

And then he was gone.

Letting out a breath himself, Dean turned to look at Cas again. As much as he hated to admit it, Gabriel had a point—they had to focus on one problem at a time; on what they could actually deal with at the moment, or else they wouldn’t get anywhere.

And right now, Cas needed all of his attention.

With a heavy heart, Dean lifted his hand to rest it on Cas’ forehead, just as he’d done earlier. The feeling didn’t change—Cas’ skin was still way too hot to the touch, still terribly feverish, but Cas’ breathing really did seem to be getting more even now that he wasn’t awake anymore. The angel looked almost peaceful now, like he was actually simply asleep, even if Dean knew for a fact that wasn’t quite the case here. For a brief moment, the hunter wondered if the seraph had been wheezing so badly because Gabriel had flown him here; if his body had felt the abrupt, forced shift in their location and made the weakened angel more agitated somehow. Or maybe it could be something else entirely. Maybe it was nothing more than his hurt, spent Grace that had caused it. Dean had no way to know for sure, but in the end, it didn’t really matter. That wasn’t a good sign either way.

Once more his eyes found the countless cuts covering Cas’ skin, and as he looked over all the blood and mud staining both the angel’s body and his torn, dirty clothes, Dean caught himself wondering where the hell the angel had landed that would have made so much damage. Maybe he’d somehow ended up smashing into a tree, breaking it down so that pieces of wood had proceeded to tear at him before he’d fallen down to the muddy ground. It surely looked like that might have been the case, although Dean dropped that train of thought quickly enough. It didn’t matter how or why Cas had gotten like this; what truly mattered was making sure he was okay now.

“I gotta clean those cuts,” Dean announced, turning his head again so he could glance at the pair again, finding that they had yet to move from their spot by the door. “And maybe… well, Gabriel said it wouldn’t help, but I gotta try to lower that fever somehow.” He stood up from the bed slowly, and he didn’t fail to notice how both Sam and Charlie tensed up noticeably as he did it, as though they were considering whether or not he needed any help, or if maybe they should intervene somehow. Fortunately, they quickly seemed to decide that wasn't the case right now. Once again, Dean chose to ignore it. “You think there’s a first aid kit anywhere around here?”

Sam actually stepped forward then, as apparently realizing that Dean intended to leave the room had been enough to change his mind about moving closer. He didn’t look too happy about it. “Dean, maybe you shouldn’t be, you know…”

Dean had expected that response, of course, but instead of agreeing, he found himself shaking his head at Sam, doing his best to keep his voice firm and tone convincingly steady as he said, “I’m fine, guys, seriously. I just… I just gotta feel useful somehow.”

Neither of them looked happy to hear that at all.

“But, Dean…” Sam swallowed, shaking his head as well. His eyes softened, and the worry was very much clear in them as he glanced down at Dean’s middle for a second, before looking back up to meet his brother’s eyes again. Dean tried not to shift uncomfortably under his gaze, because he knew exactly what Sam was thinking right then, and he actually had to resist the urge to lift his hand to rest it on his bump. “I don’t think you should be doing anything right now.”

“I’m not…” Dean shook his head again, once more letting his eyes find the immobile, wounded form of Cas on the bed. His heart ached at the sight, so much that his voice came out weak and strained as he said, “I mean, look at him. I can’t just… sit around and leave him like that.”

There was a pause, during which Dean didn’t immediately turn to look back at the two, instead letting the silence stretch on as he silently hoped they wouldn’t fight him on this anymore and just relent. He was too tired to argue with them about this; that was pretty much the last thing he wanted to do right now.

It took a while for someone to actually say anything.

“Then we can bring you everything you need here,” Charlie offered quietly, and it was only then that Dean turned his head to look at the pair again. At some point, the look in their eyes had shifted into something softer, almost pleading, though no less worried. “So you don’t have to, you know… move too much.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded quickly, “We’ll get you everything—first aid kit, or at least something to clean up those wounds, anything. Just… wait here, okay?”

Dean hesitated, of course. He had suspected Sam and Charlie would become a lot more overly worried and tentative around him now that they knew about the baby, so this reaction wasn’t at all surprising, especially because he knew they had a point; that they in fact had a very good reason to be worried about him, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t annoyed that they were suddenly treating him like he was made of glass or something.

But again, he didn’t have it in himself to argue right now, so he ended up simply nodding weakly, silently accepting their offer.

The pair was clearly relieved to see him agree, and fortunately neither Sam nor Charlie tried to argue any further; neither tried to dissuade him from doing something to tend to Cas in any way. They didn’t try to tell him that it was foolish to try to fight that fever, or that taking care of all those wounds could probably wait a little while, even if clearly they weren’t exactly thrilled that Dean was planning to do anything else apart from resting right now. They said nothing more on the subject, and Dean was very thankful for that.

And it wasn’t like Dean didn’t know that maybe he shouldn’t be doing this; that the last thing he should be doing right now was pushing himself in any way, but he just couldn’t leave Cas like this. He couldn’t even bear the sight of the angel, battered and wounded on that bed, completely helpless. He couldn’t just fucking sit around and do nothing, just waiting for the seraph to wake up on his own. Fuck, he just wanted to do something, _anything;_ he wanted to feel useful, like he was at least trying to fix the fucking mess he’d gotten them into.

Cas had done this for him when he’d been out because of the Mark, after the whole Cain fiasco—the angel had tended to him, even kept his body clean and properly nourished while Dean hadn’t been able to do it himself, even if that had taken way too much energy from the angel’s quickly fading power, and Dean was determined to do the same for him now.

The pair did just as they’d promised, and in just a matter of minutes they were bringing a first aid kit and a bowl filled with lukewarm water into the room, plus a small pile of dry washcloths.

“Okay, uh…” Sam straightened up once they’d deposited everything on the nightstand on Dean’s side of the bed—within arm’s reach, Dean noticed, but didn’t comment on it—turning to look at the older brother once more. “You… you okay here or do you need help with…?” Sam looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden, Dean could see it clearly, shifting his weight a little and scratching the back of his neck. Dean would have chuckled at the scene if he didn’t feel so damn exhausted, even after sleeping for at least a couple of hours.

He simply shook his head instead, letting his eyes take in the sight of Cas passed out on the bed once more. It was a familiar sight in a way, and the thought that he was watching the same scene he’d witnessed so many months ago back in the cabin in Montana repeat itself right before his eyes tugged painfully at his heart. “No, I’m good from here.”

Sam and Charlie both nodded, before moving to leave him alone with Cas. One of them must have closed the door behind them as they left the bedroom, but Dean didn’t know which one, as his eyes were completely focused on Cas by then. He actually only knew they were truly gone from the room once he heard the low click that echoed through the air for a second as the door was gently closed shut.

And once he was alone with Cas, Dean lifted his hand to reach out again, quickly finding himself simply running his fingers through the angel’s soft, messy hair, the movement slow and careful, touch gentle and calm, tender even, as if afraid of jolting the angel somehow; of hurting Cas even more than that damn sigil already had. He realized then that there was quite a bit of dirt and blood stuck to the angel’s hair as well, caking some of the strands together, and upon further inspection Dean realized there was a pretty ugly cut just above Cas’ hairline, which he hadn't noticed up until then, as it was pretty well hidden away from sight, completely covered by the angel's hair.

“I’m so sorry, Cas.” His voice trembled, words nothing more than a pained, tentative whisper as he let his hand move lower to caress the angel’s cheek, wincing as his skin rubbed against one of the cuts on the seraph’s face. The blood around it was already pretty much dry, rough to the touch, and Dean wondered just how long it had been since Cas had been back on Earth before Gabriel had actually found him. He guessed at least a couple of hours, and his heart clenched at the thought of Cas, wounded and alone somewhere out there, probably in the middle of the fucking woods if his state was anything to go by, worried about what had happened to Dean and the baby after he’d been banished, but too weak to move or call for help, completely helpless if Heaven had somehow found him first.

And fuck, it just fucking _hurt_ to even imagine it.

“This is my fault. This is all my fucking fault.”

And he knew what Cas would say to that—that it wasn’t Dean’s fault, that the hunter had in no way meant for this to happen; that it didn’t matter how this had happened or whose fault it was, because what truly mattered was how they would deal with the situation now, how they would fix this. Dwelling in the past would do nothing to help them now, wouldn’t in any way help them fix their situation.

But those imagined words did very little to soothe him; barely even weakened the guilt in his chest, a flame that burned so strongly now that it threatened to swallow him whole.

He did his best to push those thoughts away for now, though. Right now, he had to take care of Cas. That was all he could do.

A low whine reached his ears and he turned his head just in time to watch as Juliet finally leaped onto the bed. She moved very slowly, though, head bowed, as if somehow she knew she wasn’t supposed to be there as she moved closer to Dean, clearly hesitant as she sniffed the air before her. She bumped her snout lightly against Dean’s arm, then rubbed the side of her head against him, still whining softly. It was almost as if she was trying to make him feel better, and despite everything, Dean couldn’t help but smile weakly at her, lifting his other hand to pet her on the head a little.

“Thanks, girl,” he whispered, scratching the spot behind her ear, and she continued to rub her head against him, lifting a paw to rest on his leg. "I'm sorry I can't really give you any attention right now, but I'll make up for it later, okay?"

Juliet simply blinked at him.

When Dean stopped petting her and turned back to Cas, she didn’t even complain. She just jumped off the bed and trotted back over to the corner of the room, where she laid down onto the floor. It was almost as if she'd understood his words; like she knew that she wouldn’t be getting any attention right now and that she shouldn’t be getting in his way, which once again had Dean wondering just how intelligent hellhounds actually were. Way above an average dog, it seemed.

Once Juliet grew quiet, Dean turned his attention back to the unconscious, wounded angel. With slightly shaky hands, he started to undress Cas, movements just as slow and careful as before. First, he loosened Cas’ tie enough so that he could pull it over the angel’s head, placing it on the bed beside him once it was off. Cas’ coat went next, then his suit, followed by the angel’s shoes and belt. As he started to unbutton Cas’ shirt, though, he caught sight of something black a few inches below the angel’s collarbone, and he frowned. He undid a few more buttons, which allowed him to have a better view of a bigger portion of Cas’ chest, and Dean was surprised to find that there really were markings on the angel’s skin, like black paint, but they seemed much more permanent than simply that as he ran his hand over it.

So it really was like a tattoo, as Gabriel had said. It wasn't too big, though—it was nothing more than a small strip of symbols that looked like they formed a word, but Dean couldn't know for sure.

He didn’t recognize the engravings at first. They looked like Enochian, but he was pretty sure he had never seen them before in his life. He wondered if it was another dialect, older and more complex than what he was used to seeing. Actually, as he squinted at them a little, doing a double take and examining them a bit more thoroughly, he realized that some of them actually looked somewhat familiar, but he had no clue what they meant. He couldn’t even—

His hand shot up, diving into his shirt as he reached for the pendant still hanging from his neck, lifting it up to hold it before his face so he could compare the symbols. Most of them were different from the ones painted on Cas’ chest, but some were the exact same, which confirmed his theory that the markings on Cas’ skin were probably very, very ancient Enochian.

He felt curious to look at his own chest then, to check if he had a matching tattoo now as Gabriel had said he should, so shrugged off his jacket, unbuttoned his flannel and pulled at the hem of the undershirt he was wearing, finding that he indeed had a matching string of symbols on his chest, identical to the one Cas had and exactly on the same spot—on the right side of his chest, opposite to where his anti-possession tattoo was.

Well, then. Guess he would have to get used to that now.

He couldn’t help but wonder why carving those symbols into Cas’ ribs—and Dean’s, by extent—wouldn’t have worked instead, though. Sure, Cas wasn’t human, and Gabriel had said that was why carving the same symbols Dean already had onto the seraph's ribs wouldn't be effective, but Dean was kind of curious why it didn't work the same way with these symbols. Maybe because his own ribs were already carved? That would make sense, he supposed. Also, maybe these symbols had something to do with the nephilim as well, if Dean was wearing some of them around his neck. But then… why couldn’t they have branded the symbols from his pendant onto his skin or ribs or whatever instead of making Dean walk around with a necklace that could be—and _had_ been—so easily torn from his neck? That would have prevented Heaven from finding out about the nephilim in the first place, so why hadn’t Gabriel done that from the start instead? Would that have even worked?

Unfortunately Gabriel wasn’t here to give Dean any answers, but the hunter made a mental note to inquire about all of that the next time he saw the archangel.

But as there was nothing he could do about that now, he turned his attention back to the task at hand, pushing those thoughts away for now and continuing to undress Cas, assessing the wounds that became visible with every single the layer of clothing he removed from the angel’s body. Just like before, his movements were overly slow and careful, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with each new deep, bloody gash his eyes found.

And he winced even more once he actually took Cas’ shirt off.

Cas really must have landed on a tree, it seemed. There was a very big gash on the side of his ribcage, with an actual piece of wood digging into his side. Just looking at it had Dean flinching, so much that he hesitated to even touch it for a moment, afraid to somehow make it worse or more painful if he did. It was just a pretty short splinter, true, nothing more than a small, broken piece of wood, but it was still sharp and actually buried in Cas’ skin, and briefly Dean wondered if that had been the reason why Cas had been wheezing and having so much trouble breathing earlier; if it had somehow hit a lung. Fortunately, a closer inspection told him that the thing was buried way too low in his abdomen for it to have reached a lung, so he discarded the idea quickly enough with relief. That would be a lot more than Dean thought he could deal with right now.

For a moment, he debated on what to do with the wound. He didn’t think simply pulling the splinter out would help anything, even if it wasn’t in too deep, but it also looked very uncomfortable and he didn’t want to just leave it there. He had to get it out somehow, he knew that, but what would that lead to? What if that ended up doing more damage than actually helping? But Cas could heal from it, right? He wasn’t going to get an internal hemorrhage or something if Dean actually pulled it out, was he?

He swallowed drily at the doubt that flooded him at those thoughts. He honestly had no idea.

He decided to push the issue aside for a moment, and instead of taking care of that right away, he proceeded to get rid of the rest of Cas’ clothes, carefully continuing to undress the angel until the seraph lay completely bare on the bed. Dean didn't bother to cover him, as that would only make it harder for him to work, and he assumed Sam and Charlie would most likely knock if they came back.

Most of Cas’ clothes were torn and bloody, so Dean just left them all in a little pile on the dresser by the wall, as he could figure out what to do with them later. He felt bad for the state they were in, though, because he knew how much Cas was attached to that coat. He'd already lost the old one when he'd been human, and Dean didn't want him to lose this one too. Briefly, he wondered whether they could try to fix this one or if they would have to buy a new one.

Maybe Cas could fix everything once he had his original Grace again. Yeah, Dean was pretty sure he could do that. He liked the thought of that, and he let the notion soothe him.

Once that was done, Dean picked up the first aid kit Sam and Charlie had brought, deciding the biggest gash with the splinter in it was the first one he would need to tend to, as it was by far the worst one of the angel's wounds. Making the decision that he couldn't just leave it like that, he got the tweezers out of the kit, and then reached for the splinter. He knew he could just pull it out with his hand, as part of the splinter was sticking out, but for some reason he felt better about doing it this way—less chances of him screwing it up and all that. He grabbed the splinter easily with the tweezers, hissing lowly to himself as he pulled it out, flinching and watching as Cas’ skin stretched a little around it as the wooden body slid out from the wound.

It wasn’t in too deep, though, and for that Dean was extremely glad. No need to worry about a hemorrhage, at least.

Once the damn thing was finally out, Dean left the splinter and the tweezers on the nightstand, even though he knew he probably shouldn’t, considering they were both pretty much coated in blood, but he didn’t really have the time to worry about that right now. The moment his hands were free, he immediately reached for one of the washcloths and pressed it against the wound, attempting to stop the blood that had quickly started to pour out from it. It actually took a while, but eventually—and a completely stained washcloth later—the bleeding finally stopped, so he turned back to the first aid kit, and he was happy to find that there was actually a small bottle of a sterile saline solution for cleaning wounds in it, which he knew should be better than using antiseptic, as well as a small pack of cotton balls. He quickly ripped the pack open, then squeezed some of the solution onto one of the soft, white balls and proceeded to gently clean the gash to make sure it wouldn’t get infected, because that was the last thing they needed right now. And once he thought the wound was clean enough, he covered it up with a bandage.

He was just happy the gash didn't look like it needed stitches.

And when that was finally dealt with, he used the clean washcloths to rid Cas of all the blood and dirt sticking to his skin, dipping the cloths into the water bowl from time to time as he worked to get them damp and clean the fabric a bit. After that was done, he cleaned the other cuts more thoroughly with more cotton balls and the same solution from before, and he was happy to realize that none of them were even nearly as deep as the splinter gash, but many of them looked pretty painful, and his chest grew tighter with each one of them that he tended to. He really hoped his soul would be able to give Cas enough energy to heal those soon.

He used bandages on some of the other cuts as well, but only the ugliest ones, as he only had a limited amount of bandages in the kit, and he would probably need to change those a few times, so he had to be mindful of how many he used.

Lifting his hand slowly, Dean let it move through Cas’ hair again, glaring at the cut near the angel's hairline, which he hadn't used a bandage on because of Cas' hair getting in the way, but he'd cleaned it as best as he could, and fortunately it wasn't bleeding anymore. He noticed then how he’d gotten most of the dirt and blood out with the cloths, but the angel’s hair wasn’t completely clean still. He would probably need to take the angel to the bathroom and actually wash his hair to get rid of everything properly, but that meant carrying Cas all the way to another room, and Dean felt like he really shouldn’t move the angel right now. Also, he would have to ask Sam and Charlie to do that for him, because of course he couldn’t carry Cas himself, even if it would be easier for Dean to do it—he’d been able to carry the angel effortlessly up until now, though he knew the Mark and the bond must have helped a lot with that, as both seemed to have boosted his strength a lot, because Cas wasn’t exactly light.

And Dean knew he couldn’t push himself like that right now.

Deciding that the hair situation would have to wait at least a little while, Dean carefully pushed himself up to his feet, once more silently apologizing to Cas for making him go through this, leaning down to press a short kiss to the angel’s forehead. Only then did he manage to actually step away from Cas and walk over to where their bags lay on the floor, even if they were merely a few steps away. And even that short, seemingly small distance felt like too much right now. He couldn’t tell if he was being paranoid or not, but he could swear he felt the Mark burning more with every step he took; with every inch that was added between him and Cas, just as he could feel how the strain on the bond grew even stronger, like a rubber band stretching.

He told himself he was simply imagining it, but he wasn’t completely sure.

Juliet was still in the corner, lying on the floor with her head resting on her front paws. She immediately lifted her head once she noticed Dean was moving around in the room again, perking up and wagging her tail a bit, but the hunter didn’t pay her much attention, only glancing in her direction for a second but giving her no sign that he wished for her to come closer, and she quickly deflated, lying her head back down, apparently realizing that she still wouldn’t be getting much attention right now.

Dean unzipped Cas’ bag and began rummaging through its contents, choosing the first outfit he came across—Cas’ dark green shirt, a clean pair of underwear and the grey sweatpants the angel rarely ever used, but those were the most comfortable pair of pants Cas owned, so Dean was going with that. He did mess up some of the neatly folded clothes in there while he looked through the items, though, so he made a mental note to fix that later on, because he knew Cas liked his things organized and Dean had just messed up everything the angel had tucked away so carefully and neatly. He didn’t have time to worry about that right now, though, but he would make sure to fix that once he did.

He wasn’t exactly happy with the angel’s state right now—the sight of every single bandage covering the angel’s skin seemed to set an even heavier weight over the hunter's heart—but he decided there was nothing else he could do right now. So he proceeded to dress Cas in the clean clothes, handling the angel with as much care as he had earlier. He couldn’t help but glance over at Cas’ ruined clothes once he was done, though, for a beat wondering what to do with them right now. He wasn’t sure if they should wash them or not, because they would still be ruined anyway, even clean, as they were torn in so many places, so maybe he should just leave them like that. Once Cas got them fixed, he could also clean them with his Grace, right? Yeah, Dean was pretty sure he could, so they could just stay there for now.

As Dean pressed his hand to the angel’s forehead one more time, he noticed with a sharp tug at his heart that Cas’ skin was still burning hot, just as worryingly warm as it had been before. It really seemed like that fever wouldn't be going down anytime soon. The washcloths had apparently done nothing to help with that, contrary to what Dean had hoped would happen, even if the water was very much cold by now. Still, maybe he should leave a clean damp cloth on Cas’ forehead for a little while; maybe that would help lower the angel's temperature, even if just a little bit. He had to give it a shot, at least.

However, one glance into the bowl told him the water was as far from clear as it could possibly get—at some point it had earned a dirty red-brownish color that had Dean grimacing a little. He couldn’t put a clean cloth in that, which meant he’d have to dampen it in the bathroom sink.

Mind made up on that front, Dean tucked the first aid kit under the bed, within reach, because they would probably need it again pretty soon. Those bandages would need changing fairly often depending on how fast Cas' wounds would heal, and given their luck, Dean wasn’t really optimistic about how fast that would be at all.

Dean had to make two trips in order to get everything to the bathroom, since there was just so much for him to carry—the bowl filled with dirty water, the washcloths (both dirty and clean), the used supplies from the kit, the tweezers and the splinter—and he didn't want to just pile everything up in his arms and risk dropping it all. And fortunately, there were no incidents, so that was good.

What wasn’t good was how much the ache in the bond and the burn of the Mark both got considerably harder to ignore, especially when he lingered in the bathroom the second time he crossed the hallway and walked into the small room, but he told himself he would be quick and that Cas would be fine by himself for only a minute. That thought did very little to soothe Dean, however, but he didn’t want to ask Sam and Charlie for help with this, as he knew they would insist to do everything for him. He could walk across the hall and get this done without any help, and that was what he was going to do.

But apparently that didn’t matter much, because all he managed to do was empty the bowl and wrap up the bloody splinter in some toilet paper to throw it away before Sam and Charlie materialized in the doorway of the bathroom, eyes wide and worried. He'd tried to be quiet, but apparently they had still heard him moving around.

Damn it.

“Dean, what are you doing in here?” Sam asked, a clearly disapproving frown forming in his brows as he took in the sight of Dean standing in the middle of the bathroom, as well as of all the things he had clearly carried here. He didn’t look happy about it at all. “You shouldn’t be… doing any of this.”

“I know,” Dean said simply, shaking his head weakly at the two, “I’m just finishing up here. It’s okay.”

Sam still didn’t look happy. “Well, let us help you, then.”

“I’m almost done,” Dean insisted.

“Then let us finish things up in here for you,” Charlie replied.

Dean wanted to protest, of course. The words even formed in his mouth, lips shaping themselves around the first syllable, but his voice got caught in his throat, not quite making it out as the older Winchester took in the almost pleading twin looks that took over the pair’s eyes.

He knew they had a point, he _knew,_ and even if his first instinct was to try to argue; to prove to them that he was fine and could actually still function normally in spite of everything, he still found himself halting.

Because this wasn’t about him. This was about keeping the baby safe, and right now insisting on pushing himself in any way would be doing the exact opposite of that. The bond was still hurting and the Mark was burning even more now, which were both very bad signs, not to mention that Dean was already growing a bit anxious because he’d been away from Cas for so long, even if he had only been here for about a couple of minutes, and already he could feel the need to go check on the angel growing in his chest.

So in the end Dean ended up sighing in defeat, nodding numbly in agreement, deciding that he didn’t really have a choice on the matter.

Sam and Charlie both looked very relieved to see him relent, and immediately they started to try and herd him out of the room, but he still lingered for minute longer so he could wash away the blood clinging to his hands, as well as dampen one of the clean washcloths in the sink, but quickly enough he walking out of the small bathroom and crossing the hallway, walking back into the bedroom.

Juliet didn’t even lift her head when he walked in, simply following Dean with her eyes as he moved, apparently having decided to wait until the human actually called her over to get up again.

Cas hadn’t moved at all, which wasn’t exactly surprising, and it really shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did for Dean to realize that the angel was still unconscious and completely unresponsive. He sat down onto the bed, yet again pressing his palm to Cas’ forehead to check his temperature, and it also shouldn’t have been any sort of surprise to notice how the seraph's skin felt just as warm as it had the last time the hunter had done this, which had been merely a handful of minutes ago. With a heavy, tired breath, Dean placed the damp cloth on the angel’s forehead, hoping this would help with the damn fever, even though he wasn’t really confident about it. Gabriel’s words about there being nothing that he could do about that were still replaying in his mind, weighing down on his thoughts and making him even more worried.

Dean heard Sam and Charlie moving around in the bathroom for a while, but soon enough they seemed to be done taking care of everything, as it was only a few minutes later when the pair tentatively walked into the bedroom, probably to check on Dean. For some reason, the air felt heavy around them once they were in the room, now even more than it had been earlier, and instantly Dean knew that they both had something on their minds, something they wanted to say to him. He could read it clearly in their stances, see it in their eyes as they took in the sights of him and Cas carefully, almost measuring, probably to try and figure out if Dean was really as fine as he was saying he was.

Dean swallowed under the weight of those stares, focusing his eyes on Cas as he announced, “He still has a fever.” His voice cracked very noticeably as he spoke, and he swallowed again, but that did very little to help with the lump that had apparently formed in his throat.

“Is there…” Sam swallowed, and Dean tore his eyes away from Cas to look back at the pair, finding both his brother and Charlie looking incredibly uncomfortable, like they didn’t quite know what to do with themselves. “Do you need anything else? I mean, we can…” He didn’t seem quite sure how to finish that, so instead Sam just let his voice linger in the air.

Again, Dean shook his head. “No, I…” He let out another breath, and his entire body sagged in defeat. He was feeling exhausted already, completely spent, and he had only been awake for a little over an hour now, which just couldn’t mean anything good. He wondered if that might be a result of Cas’ Grace draining his soul, and he realized it probably was. “I don’t think anything we do right now will get this fever down. I’ll just… I’ll just stay here with him and... you know, hope the bond helps a little.”

Sam nodded silently, although he was clearly unhappy with the answer.

That awkward, tense silence from before was suddenly back with full force, and it lasted for a moment, but fortunately Charlie broke it soon enough.

“Well, if you… if you need anything, you just call out for us, okay?”

Dean nodded numbly, trying to give the pair a soft, reassuring smile, but even he could immediately tell it didn’t turn out convincing at all, and that the result most likely resembled a grimace instead. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Thanks, guys, for… you know, everything.” Of course he meant that, he really did, but his words came out too weak, strained, exhaustion bleeding into his voice without his consent.

The pair nodded regardless, offering him matching soft, reassuring smiles. Silence fell over them quickly, though, as the two seemed unsure of what to say in response, so with a sigh, Dean turned back to Cas, wordlessly declaring the conversation over. He heard soft, light footsteps soon after as Sam and Charlie silently left the room, and when he looked back over to where the two had been standing only a moment later, he found the space completely empty and the door closed.

The air in the room felt weirdly stale with the others gone. Dean didn’t like it.

He moved even closer to Cas now that they were alone, lifting the cloth and placing a hand onto the angel’s forehead for what felt like the hundredth time now, even if he knew he wouldn’t get a different result this time. The fever was still going strong, still clinging to Cas like a curse, and Dean wished he had the thermometer he’d bought in Absarokee to check the angel’s temperature, but that had stayed back in the Bunker, so he had no way to do that now.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Cas’ fever was still pretty bad, though.

Dean laid down properly on the bed then, as there was nothing he could do now but wait; but be close to Cas and hope that it would help the angel heal at least a little bit. And it did occur to him that maybe Cas didn’t need the additional heat, but Gabriel had said the seraph needed Dean close, and honestly, anything else would feel wrong right now.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back sleep anytime soon, though. It should help Cas, true, because Dean not getting enough rest might actually do the opposite of letting the angel heal, and the human knew that, but he also knew that it would be impossible for him to get any shut-eye with Cas feverish and sick and dying right beside him. He could actually _feel_ it now—how weak Cas’ Grace actually was, and it actually hurt, like a dull, insistent pain hammering against the inside of his ribcage, throbbing in time with every beat of his heart. The connection between them felt strained, like a pulled muscle, and Dean wished there was something else he could do to make this better, to help; to try and fix this somehow, but it wasn’t like there was a way to stop Cas’ Grace from spending energy, not when it was still constantly fighting the Mark and protecting the baby.

A particularly struggled breath left Cas’ lips, and Dean forced those thoughts away. Maybe his own mood had some influence here too, so he had to stay calm, keep his own worries and emotions under control and not make Cas’ state even worse than it already was. He had a tendency of letting things spill into the bond without realizing it, and that was something he should really try to avoid at the moment.

So he did the only thing he could do right now—he snuggled as close as he could to Cas, laying his head on his favorite spot on the angel’s chest, tucking his nose under Cas' chin and closing his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath as he forced himself to calm down at least a little.

Cas' heart beat under him, but it sounded wrong, weaker than it should be, as well as not completely rhythmic.

It occurred to him then that this almost some sort of repeat of that night in Absarokee, but somehow their situation seemed so much worse than it had been back then, something he knew past-him would have found impossible at the time. His life had pretty much just been going downhill over the past few months, and he had no idea how to stop it.

It was very hard to believe just how different things had been less than 4 months ago. That night in Montana, all Dean had been worried about was Cas’ well-being, the Mark and, well, where they had stood. He had been tiptoeing around Cas at the time, still unsure about why the angel had left him in Nebraska in the first place, terrified that Cas would just want for him to go away once he woke up because Cas _had_ walked out on him in Omaha and the hunter still hadn't known why. He had feared he would have to hear the angel tell him their night hadn’t meant as much to the seraph as it had to Dean, and that the hunter should just leave him be.

Fuck, he still hadn’t even known about the soul bond back then, much less about the baby, even though he _had_ been pregnant already, but they hadn’t been aware of it _._

That night, he had been terrified that he might actually lose Cas, and he hated that he was going through the exact same thing yet again. Once more he felt completely useless and terrified, but this time, their situation was so much worse than it had been back then. Now there was so much more at stake and so many more things were working against them. Things were unbelievably more complicated now, with so many more risks involved, and Dean’s hope of actually managing to make it out of this mess seemed to grow smaller with every day that passed.

This whole thing was truly suffocating, and Dean honestly felt like he might go mad if he just stayed here doing nothing, but the problem was that there was fucking _nothing_ that he could do right now.

Closing his eyes, Dean tried to calm himself down, curling up even more against Cas’ side, letting out a heavy, shaky breath as he did it, but the slightly erratic rhythm of Cas’ breathing combined with the unsteady beating of his heart were doing very little to help soothe the hunter. If anything, they only made Dean even more nervous and uneasy. He buried his nose even deeper in Cas’ throat and breathed in deeply, because at least the angel’s scent remained the same, and he hoped that would help him calm down, even if just a little. Usually that worked, and it did kind of help him to some extent, but it wasn’t nearly enough to make Dean any less anxious or worried.

_We’ll get through this, Cas. You’ll be fine._

Dean wasn’t sure if Cas could hear him, but it made him feel better to say it—or, well, project it, at least. Part of him wanted to say them out loud, because then again, he still couldn’t be sure if he was really doing the whole projecting thing right, but the privacy of their minds seemed... more fitting to Dean somehow, and for some reason the hunter believed that maybe the angel could hear him better this way; that while there was close no chance of Cas actually hearing his words if the hunter actually said them out loud, if the hunter tried to send them mentally, then perhaps it would work. Maybe Cas could hear him that way, even if the angel had no reaction to his words, and maybe that might soothe the angel, make him feel better somehow, even if he couldn't respond, or even react to it right now.

Still, even in the privacy of his mind, the words sounded almost empty, a pointless promise that Dean might not even have the right to make, because he knew he couldn’t make sure he would keep it. He had no means to make that happen; had no hope about it even.

And yet he felt the need to repeat them once more, and then one last time, just as he had done countless times throughout the past few months, as if that would make a difference; as if saying them often enough would somehow make them true.

As if he would at last convince himself of them.

His eyes burned, but he ignored the sting, blinking a few times to try and send the sensation away. Slowly, he raised his hand to gather Cas’ against his palm, lacing their fingers together, hating how limp the angel’s hand was; how utterly unresponsive the movement turned out to be. He realized then that they had very rarely actually held hands before, and now Dean wished that he’d tried that more with Cas awake. He wished they would still get the chance to do that again someday, as unlikely as that was looking to be right now.

At some point, he felt the mattress dipping a little, and as Dean lifted his head, he found that Juliet had climbed back onto the bed, though on Cas’ side and not Dean’s. She whined lowly, slowly crawling on the mattress until she was closer to them, and Dean couldn't help but frown as she leaned over Cas. The hound sniffed at the angel's face curiously, pressing her nose to his chin, then to his cheek, choosing a patch of skin without any bandages and giving it a light, short lick. Low whines echoed from her throat nonstop, as though she was trying to wake Cas up but couldn't understand why it wasn't working, which was absolutely adorable and incredibly sad at the same time. When she got no response from the angel, though, she leaned away from him a bit and lifted a paw, resting it on Cas' chest as she continued to whine, patting the angel's front a few times, but of course she still got no response.

She actually insisted on it for about a minute, until finally she seemed to realize her plan wouldn't work. She seemed to give up on it then, still whining softly as she moved away from Cas, but she didn't jump down from the bed. Instead, she seemed to decide to simply curl up there, so she chose a spot and adjusted herself a bit before she actually laid down, head resting on Cas’ stomach, ears lowered back against her head, eyes finding Dean's in what the human once again thought was something that looked way too much like an inquiring look. If he didn’t know any better, he would say that her eyes actually looked sad.

Letting out another heavy breath, Dean let go of Cas’ hand for only a moment so he could pet her a little, simply brushing his fingers through her fur a couple of times, smiling softly at the hound, feeling his chest a little warmer after the display he'd just gotten from her. Soon, though, he pulled his hand back and grabbed the seraph’s once more, lacing their fingers together just as he'd done before, and fortunately Juliet didn't complain. Slowly, Dean moved their joined hands down, resting them on his bump, where Dean knew Cas liked to leave his own hand when they fell asleep. It always seemed to calm Cas somehow, and even though he knew that wouldn’t really make a difference right now, for some reason it made the hunter feel better to have their hands there.

He felt a tear slipping down his cheek as he breathed in Cas’ scent once more, closing his eyes tightly shut, as if he could somehow erase the world around them by doing it; as if by blocking out everything, the sharp, stabbing pain in his heart might lessen, even if just a little bit.

_We’ll be fine._

Once more, he wished he could believe it.

***~*~*~*~***

When Dean woke up the next day, things hadn’t gotten any better.

Cas’ skin was still way too warm, and the angel hadn’t moved at all since Dean had last been awake, lying motionless on the bed beside the hunter—too still, too limp, so clearly not simply asleep. The peace in his features, the calm expression Cas had been wearing since he'd lost consciousness hours ago, was nothing but a deceitful mask, hiding the fight that was currently happening within the angel's body between the Mark and Cas' Grace.

The angel's breathing had gone back to normal now, though, and so had his heart rate, so at least that was something. But Dean wouldn’t let himself be fooled by all that, as he could still feel that same weird, dull pain coming from the bond, a clear result of the strain the Mark was still having on Cas’ Grace as it burned angrily on Dean’s arm. The damn thing still seemed very much intent on making their situation even worse than it already was, which really was the last thing they needed right now. That constant, nagging pain Dean was feeling coming from the bond simply refused to go away, and that only confirmed Gabriel’s words from earlier about how Dean’s soul might not be enough to balance things out anymore, which of course made Dean feel even more worried, not to mention freaking useless.

He forced himself out of bed with great struggle, even if all he wanted to do was to remain by Cas' side to make sure the angel would be fine. His heart felt heavy in his chest for leaving Cas alone in their room, but he needed to use the bathroom, so he wasn’t left with much choice.

Juliet followed him with her gaze as he moved, ears rising a bit as she watched him, but she didn’t even move from where she was still lying on the bed, apparently deciding to be lazy instead.

The smell of food reached Dean's nose as soon as he walked out of bedroom, coming from the down the hall—the direction of the living room, he assumed, even if he didn’t quite remember the layout of this house all that well—and he had to rush across the hallway as soon as that happened, all but running into the bathroom and over to the toilet, the all too familiar feeling of nausea flooding his gut abruptly, much like it used to do absurdly often only a few weeks ago, which definitely wasn’t a good sign. The fact that his morning sickness was back to acting up also couldn’t mean anything good concerning the state of Cas’ Grace.

He only threw up once, so at least that was good. He waited a couple of minutes before leaning away from the toilet, though, just to make sure, panting over it until he was certain that the nausea wouldn’t suddenly come back anytime soon and that he wouldn't end up puking all over the floor if he moved. So after about a minute, clicking his tongue a few times at the horrible taste clinging very insistently to the inside of his mouth, he sat back properly onto the floor, resting his back against the cold tiled wall behind him. No matter how many times he did this, it just never got any less unpleasant.

“Dean?”

Startled, Dean jumped a little, head snapping to the side at the sound of Sam’s voice, only to find his brother hesitantly walking into the bathroom, glass of water in hand.

He crouched beside Dean, before offering his brother the glass, the gesture a clear repeat of what had happened in this very bathroom the day before. “Thought you might want this,” Sam said.

Dean nodded slowly, taking the offered glass. “Thanks,” he muttered, before downing the whole thing in one go just as he’d done the last time.

“Sorry about that. I mean, we thought we should make some food, so we tried to get some spaghetti and meatballs going, but we didn’t even realize that you might—”

“Sam, don’t,” Dean stopped him before Sam could ramble on any longer, shaking his head lightly at his brother. “It’s not your fault. In the beginning every single thing would make me nauseous, it’s just… morning sickness being a bitch, I guess. And before Branson, I hadn’t even gotten sick in like, three weeks or something, too. I don’t… I’m not sure why it’s acting up again now.”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue still, but fortunately he didn’t. “Well, is there anything we can… you know, make for you? Like, something that doesn’t make you sick?”

“Nah, it’s pretty much random. Well, except for pork. That would always make me puke, so I'm guessing that might be a thing again. All the other stuff kinda... makes me sick sometimes, then it doesn't the other day. It's... weird, but it’s okay. Now that I threw up, the nausea should go away pretty soon. Normally it doesn’t bother me again too soon after that if it goes away this fast.”

Sam nodded slowly in response, as if filing the information away for later, which Dean was pretty sure was exactly what he was doing then.

The air shifted around them pretty quickly after that, as the silence that followed stretched on for a whole minute and became oddly loaded. All of a sudden Sam looked a lot tenser, glancing down at the floor and away from Dean as he swallowed once, jaw clenching the exact the same way that told Dean there was something bothering his brother; that there was something on his mind that he wanted to voice then, but he couldn't quite find the right way to do it, as if he needed to choose his next words carefully, and already Dean knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

He wasn’t wrong.

“How…” Sam swallowed again, sounding like the words were a bit harder to let out than he’d expected them to be. “How are you feeling?”

“Still nauseous,” Dean replied, even though he knew that wasn’t exactly what Sam had meant.

“Dean…”

The older brother sighed, not surprised that Sam wasn’t willing to just let this go so easily; not even in the slightest, really. It would be weird if he had.

“I don’t even know, honestly,” Dean breathed out, shaking his head weakly. “I mean, the bond is still way too weird, and it shouldn’t be, not with Cas here. And okay, yeah, he’s still out, and he still has that damn fever, so of course it would feel a bit numb, but… this feels wrong. The same thing happened back in Montana and it didn’t feel like this. The bond is actually hurting now, and I know what that means, I just can’t...” He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish that, so he just didn’t.

Sam took in a breath, then slowly let it out, shoulders sagging a bit. And when he spoke again, his voice came out as nothing more than a weak, hesitant whisper as he said the words Dean hadn't been able to. “His Grace is still too low.” And it wasn’t recharging either, Dean completed mentally. He knew those were the words Sam didn’t seem quite willing to say out loud right then, but he still heard them clearly.

Numbly, Dean simply nodded.

Silence took over the room once more, and Dean had to say he was glad for it this time, as tense as the air still was around them. Sam didn’t try to tell him that they could do this; that both the feathers and the codex plans would work out in the end and that somehow they would manage to just magically fix everything that was going wrong in their lives. He didn’t try to get Dean hopeful about any of that, because he didn't have any actual proof that anything they were attempting would work, especially not now that they actually knew just how bad Cas' state truly was. Honestly, empty promises were the last thing Dean needed to hear right now.

“Do you think you can eat?”

Swallowing, Dean shook his head. “Not now, but… in a bit, I probably should.” He had to take his vitamins, after all. He wouldn’t miss another day. He was still a bit worried about the one he hadn't taken yesterday, since he had yet to get a chance to ask Cas about it.

If he would even get one at all.

He pushed that thought away.

“Well, if you… I mean, if you want to eat later, the food’s ready. That is, if you think you can endure our disastrous cooking.”

Sam’s tone was light, almost joking, but it sounded off, wrong even. It was an attempt to lighten the mood somehow, and Dean felt thankful that he'd tried at all, but of course it didn’t work too well, and all the older brother managed to give Sam in response was a weak, barely even there smile.

Sam didn’t seem offended or disappointed by the lack of heart Dean put into the action, though. He simply nodded lightly at Dean before slowly getting back up to his feet so he could leave his brother to his own devices, taking the empty glass with him as he walked out of the bathroom without another word.

Once he was alone again, Dean rinsed his mouth in the sink for a full minute to rid it of the remainder of the sour taste, before doing what he had gotten out of bed to do in the first place and relieving his by now very much aching bladder. He'd really been peeing a lot more lately, and he wondered just how much worse that was going to get. Cas had said Dean would most likely start to pee more and more frequently the longer the pregnancy went on, so that was probably going to get a bit annoying very soon.

He decided not to think about that right now, though, as there was nothing he could do about it anyway. So he quickly finished up in the bathroom, realizing with relief that the nausea was completely gone now. However, just as he was about to leave the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, noticing that he looked really fucking horrible, exhaustion all but written on his face, which was to be expected. It was also then that he realized he hadn’t showered since what, yesterday morning? Damn, maybe he should take care of that now. He also needed to shave, he noticed, running his hand over the clear beginning of a beard that currently covered a good part of his jaw, making it several shades darker than the rest of his face. He should probably wait a bit before he tried to eat anything, anyway, just in case, because even though his nausea might be gone now, it might also decide to really be a bitch today and suddenly come back if he tried to eat anyhting so soon after he'd puked, so showering and shaving would help him kill some time, too. He did tell Sam that he would only eat later, anyway.

Deciding he should just take care of all that now, Dean walked back into the bedroom to get everything he would need from his bag, as well as to make sure Cas was okay enough to be alone for a little longer while the human was in the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, the angel hadn’t moved at all since the hunter had been in here last, so Dean assumed his state shouldn’t change in the next few minutes. Keeping that thought in mind, Dean fetched himself a clean change of clothes, along with all of his showering and shaving supplies, before heading back to the bathroom.

Once more, Juliet didn’t even lift her head from the bed.

His confidence about leaving Cas alone melted away a lot faster than he'd imagined it would, though. He showered quickly, because the bond still felt worryingly numb, so Dean was overly aware of the fact that he might not feel it if Cas needed him. The Mark was also back to burning angrily on his arm, so that also couldn't possibly mean anything good. Every second he spent under the warm stream of water, completely oblivious to Cas’ current state, was actually maddening, so he found himself walking back into the bedroom not even fifteen minutes after he'd left it. He didn’t even shave in the end, even though he knew probably should have, but his beard wasn’t too long, just a little longer than what he usually allowed, and getting that taken care of right now would just take too long. He could do it tomorrow, he decided. It wasn't something strictly necessary; it could wait.

He kneeled down before their bags, stuffing his worn clothes into his own bag as they weren't exactly dirty, before fetching the little box of prenatal vitamins and opening it with a click, because he should most likely take one now before he actually went to the kitchen to get some food. Sam and Charlie knew about the baby now, true, but it would still take a while until Dean actually felt comfortable enough to take his pregnancy vitamins in front of those two.

At that thought, he tossed one of the tablets into his mouth. He'd rather take these with water, of course, but today that meant either taking a tablet in the kitchen with Sam and Charlie in the room, or bringing a glass of water back to the bedroom and taking it here. But the thing was, he wasn’t even planning to eat out there; he actually just wanted to go get himself some food and come back to eat it here, because that way he could keep an eye on Cas. So yeah, maybe he could wait to take the tablet once he was back here, but there was also the risk of either Sam or Charlie (or even both of them) coming to eat with him to make him company or something, which he really didn't doubt might happen. So in order to avoid a conversation he was certainly not ready to have just yet, he'd rather just take a tablet without drinking anything now and down a glass of water once he got to the kitchen to make the thing go down.

Once that was dealt with, he moved to leave the room, and this time, as he walked toward the door, Juliet seemed to finally decide it was time to move, jumping down to the floor and following the human out the door. Dean had kind of hoped she would stay and watch Cas for a while, but he didn’t even bother to try and tell her to stay back, as he didn't even know if that would work. She seemed to understand a lot of what he said, true, but that didn't mean she would take orders from him. Dean planned to come back to the room as soon as he could, too, so maybe there was no need for the hellhound to stay back to watch over the angel. Besides, it was kinda nice to have her walking beside him like this, almost like she wanted to make sure he was fine. It was actually kind of endearing.

So with the hellhound striding silently beside him, Dean walked down the hallway and into the familiar living room, feeling a chill run down his spine at the sight of the room, as he remembered all too well what had happened the last time he'd been here. His steps actually halted once his eyes found the couch, and he gulped, swallowing drily at the feeling of uneasiness that washed over him as the memories he'd been so vehemently trying to push away resurfaced to the forefront of his mind. The Mark perked up on his arm, burning as Dean felt phantom pains come to life in his abdomen, like the distant echo of the flames that had been threatening to swallow him whole only a few hours ago.

He jumped a little in surprise once he felt Juliet nudging his side with her snout, whining softly at him, as though asking why he'd stopped moving, and that was enough to break Dean out of the trance he'd apparently fallen into. It was only then that the hunter realized that at some point his hand had moved up to protectively rest on his bump.

As Dean took in a deep breath to try and ground himself, the Mark slowly retracted. It still burned slightly, but at least the pain grew duller, easier to ignore, and Dean couldn't help but let his gaze fall to glare down at the damn thing, cursing it silently in his head.

Taking in another breath, the hunter shook his head, forcefully pushing those thoughts away, deciding it would be best to try and ignore the Mark, before briefly petting Juliet on the head, wordlessly thanking her.

Most of the inside of this cabin was still pretty foreign to Dean, and he hadn't yet been to this place's kitchen, so he wasn't sure where that even was, but it was easy enough for him to follow the smell of the food. Fortunately that didn’t make him very nauseous again, although Dean’s stomach did flip at how the smell became stronger with every step he took toward the kitchen, but at least he didn’t feel like making a break for the bathroom again. He hoped that meant he would also be able to keep food down now, because his baby needed him to eat, especially now that he'd already taken his vitamins.

“Dean,” Sam looked up at him just as Dean walked into the kitchen, an empty yet clearly dirty plate resting right before him on the table. Charlie was sitting across from him, and Dean could see another empty, stained plate in front of her, so he assumed they had already eaten, “You hungry?”

Dean shook his head lightly, “Not really, but… I gotta eat.”

Both Sam and Charlie nodded silently in response, and without another word Dean accepted the clean plate Sam offered him then, which they had apparently already set aside for him beforehand. But he didn’t sit down at the table, not even when Charlie got up from her chair, wordlessly offering him her seat, instead moving closer to where the steaming pot of spaghetti and meatballs was resting on the center of the table to fill his plate. The smell of the food was a lot stronger here, of course, and while his stomach didn’t seem too happy with it, the nausea didn’t really come back, which he was very much thankful for.

Plus, not only did the food smell good, but it also looked delicious, especially with the very generous amount of meatballs spread over the pasta. Dean was kind of excited to try it, really.

As he started filling his plate, he assumed his intention to not eat there at the table must have been obvious, probably because while he could do this sitting down, he chose to remain standing, so quickly enough Charlie spoke up.

“I can go watch Cas, if you want,” she offered. “You know, to make sure he’s okay while you eat.”

Dean turned to look at her, opening his mouth to argue even before he'd actually met her eyes, to tell her that there was no need for her to do that; that he could just go eat in their room and watch over Cas himself, but quickly he noticed the truly determined look in her eyes. So he turned his head to glance over at his brother instead, only to find that Sam’s puppy dog eyes were also focused on him. And as soon as Dean took in the almost begging look in his brother's face, he paused, swallowing back the words that had been about to jump from his tongue.

He let his eyes flit back and forth between the pair for a moment, finding very similar expectant looks taking over their faces as his silence stretched on, and it wasn't particularly hard to guess what answer they wanted to hear from him then. To Dean, it seemed like Sam wanted to talk to him, or maybe they both just really wanted him to get out of that bedroom for a while. Either way, it was clear that Sam and Charlie had probably talked about this beforehand; planned how this very discussion might go down before Dean had even come to the kitchen so they would know how to convince him. 

For a beat, though, Dean still hesitated, remembering how bad the Mark had gotten less than an hour ago, and yet again, he had to hold back from lifting his hand to scratch at it. It wasn't burning too much right now, though; it had grown a lot quieter after he'd pushed it away back in the living room, so maybe it might actually behave for a few minutes while he ate.

He wasn't sure about that, but another glance over at Sam had him sold. He had a feeling this was a lost argument already, and he really didn't have the energy in him to try and change their minds about this. And anyway, if the Mark started acting up again, he could just say it and go back to the bedroom, as he was sure they wouldn't try to stop him if that happened.

So he ended up nodding weakly, “Yeah, okay. That… that sounds good.”

Both Sam and Charlie looked extremely relieved to hear that.

So quickly enough Charlie was off, disappearing into the living room as she supposedly headed over to his and Cas’ room, and Dean found himself sitting down onto the chair Charlie had vacated for him, claiming the seat right across from his brother at the small table with a hot, steaming plate of spaghetti placed right before him. There was a jar of water on the table and an empty glass within his reach, too, which Dean assumed had also been left there for him, so he picked the jar up and filled the glass with water, drinking half of it at once to make sure the vitamin tablet would go down easily.

Dean started to eat once that was done, taking a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth without hesitation, ignoring the way he could very clearly feel Sam's eyes on him as he moved, watching the older brother's every movement like hawk, as though expecting Dean to just collapse at any second. It actually bothered him a little, because okay, Sam was worried, Dean got that, but he might be exaggerating a little.

"I made the spaghetti," Sam said suddenly, and Dean's head snapped up as he chewed, only then allowing himself to meet his brother's gaze, finding that Sam had an almost sheepish look in his features. Once their eyes met, the younger brother shrugged lightly, "Both the pasta and the sauce, I mean, so that's... that's why it might taste a little weird. Charlie tried to help me through it, but I didn't even know what I was doing, honestly. But she made the meatballs by herself. She said she's made them before a couple of times, too, so... I'm pretty sure she kind of ended up saving the whole meal with them. Good thing she made so many."

Dean shook his head lightly, swallowing the food he still had in his mouth before saying, "Nah, it's good. You two did pretty well." And Dean was actually being truthful about that. True, the sauce could use a little more salt, and if he had been the one cooking, Dean would have added a few more spices for more flavor, but overall, this wasn't half bad. "Seriously, it's not bad at all."

Sam didn't look convinced, but didn't try to argue either, and Dean decided to let the topic go for now, instead continuing to eat his food in silence.

The pause actually lingered for a while, and it was only several minutes later, when Dean was almost done with his food, that the silence was broken, but neither one of the brothers was the one to do it.

A loud whine reached Dean’s ears, and he turned his head, glancing down at the floor beside his chair, only to find Juliet staring up at him with big, pleading red eyes. He hadn’t even noticed she was there until now, and he wondered how long she had been sitting there on the floor so close to him, watching him silently like that. She whined again once he looked down at her, huffing a little, ears lowered back against her head, paws stomping lightly against the tiles on the floor beneath them.

Dean had never thought someone could ever have a puppy dog look that was better than Sam's, but Juliet's definitely took the cake. But then again, she  _was_ (kind of) an actual dog, so that made sense.

“What is she doing?” Sam asked.

“I’m pretty sure she wants food,” Dean replied, tearing his eyes away from the whining hound and giving his brother an inquiring look. “You know if hellhounds even eat?” Should they have been feeding her and giving her water all along? Had Crowley said anything about that? Neither Sam nor Charlie had mentioned it, so Dean had simply assumed they hadn't been supposed to do anything, as the demon had apparently not given them any instructions on how to care for a hellhound.

Also, Dean was pretty sure she would have complained about this before if she had been hungry or thirsty, although maybe this was her doing exactly that right now. Either that or she just wanted to eat, even if she didn’t necessarily need it, he reasoned.

“I don’t think so, no,” Sam shook his head, “But I mean, I guess that doesn’t mean she can’t, right?”

Well, whether or not she could eat, it sure as hell looked like she wanted to. Dean tried to ignore her at first, though, because if she didn't need to eat, then he wasn’t sure if they were even allowed to give her food just because she was asking them to—she was still Crowley’s hellhound, after all. And even if she did need to eat, maybe the demon had the hounds on a special diet or something, Dean had no idea, so he wasn’t sure where the boundaries lay. But if she indeed needed to be fed, then surely Crowley would stop by to take care of that, right? Or at least he would have warned them about it, wouldn't he?

Dean wasn't entirely sure about that, and the whining went on for so long that he broke eventually.

With the tips of his fingers, he picked up one of the few meatballs that were still left on his plate, lifting it so the hound could see it, and Juliet perked up quickly, letting out a low, happy bark at the sight of the food being offered to her. He didn't immediately give her the meatball, though; instead, he slowly moved it from side to side in the air, noticing how her eyes followed the ball, like she was hypnotized by it or something, not for even a single second looking away. Her tongue slid out of her mouth to lick her lips, before she let out yet another low bark, though this one sounded different, like she was asking him to hurry up and stop playing around.

He couldn’t help but smile at the scene.

Eventually he tossed the meatball to her, and she caught it in the air, swallowing the whole thing at once.

And as soon as she was done with the meatball, Juliet turned those puppy dog eyes back to Dean, tail wagging happily. Dean tried to ignore her again, but couldn’t resist those big red eyes for too long, and he ended up giving the hound two more meatballs. Even Sam gave in eventually and tossed her one as well, with Dean telling him in what direction to aim his throw at, and after the fourth meatball, she finally seemed to deem herself satisfied, so as soon as she was done with the last one, she turned around and began walking away, trotting over to the door of the kitchen wihout a glance behind, vanishing from sight as she entered the living room.

The rest of the meal happened in silence, and for some reason Dean couldn't really bring himself to break it. He was almost glad for the pause, as it let him probe at the bond, so that way he could try and keep an eye on Cas, paying attention to the connection in case he could feel something from the angel, anything at all, although he only grew more frustrated as more time passed and that didn’t happen. He could still feel absolutely nothing coming from Cas, and that worried the hunter greatly, but he kept repeating to himself over and over again that Charlie was with the angel now, and she would call out for help if anything happened. That thought might actually be the only reason why Dean had even managed to stay so far away from Cas for so long.

“I think Gabriel’s hiding something.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose a bit at those words. He was surprised, of course, as to him that comment had come out of absolutely freaking nowhere. He chewed his food slowly, frowning at his brother as he tried to figure out where Sam wanted to get with that comment, but Dean honestly had no idea. He swallowed his last mouthful of spaghetti, before finally responding, “Well, we kind of have known that for a while now.” It wasn’t like the dude was being subtle about it by any means. Gabriel had made it pretty obvious from the start that he had his own secret agenda that he was very much unwilling to share with everyone else, no matter how shady and untrustworthy that might make him.

“No, I mean…” Sam shook his head, leaning back on his chair a bit, “When you were… out, yesterday, we were talking about Heaven and everything, and… he kinda let something slip.”

Well, Dean had no idea where this was going, but he had to admit he was a little intrigued. He and Cas had been wondering about what Gabriel might be planning for a while now, but they'd never gotten anywhere close to figuring it out. This, however, might be a start. “Meaning?” he asked.

Sam made a pause, and it looked like his brother was having an oddly hard time finding his words, though Dean had no idea what the reason for that whole struggle might be. It actually took him a little while to say anything else, too, during which Dean simply waited in silence, curious eyebrows raised as he waited for his brother to elaborate.

“We were talking about…" Sam licked his lips, and then let out a breath, shaking his head lightly, body sagging a little as finally he said, "About why Heaven would want the nephilim dead.”

Oh, so that was why Sam was acting so weird.

Dean shifted a little on his chair, looking down at his now empty plate. This was definitely not a conversation he wanted to start his day with, but he realized then that this particular subject was one of the things they had yet to talk about, and once more he wondered just how much Sam and Charlie knew. They were aware of the whole Heaven situation to some extent, so Cas and Gabriel must have filled them in on some of it at least, but how much did they actually know?

However, judging by the way Sam was looking at him, like he feared what Dean's reactions to those words might be, as though he was afraid his brother might just breakdown or snap right then and there because of them somehow, it wasn't hard to figure out why Sam was so hesitant to bring this up now.

So Dean found himself shaking his head lightly at him, the movement slow, gentle in a way he hoped would be enough to convince his brother that there wasn't really a reason for him to be this worried or act this careful around him. “It’s okay, Sam. I mean, you don’t know how many times Cas and I have talked about this. I doubt whatever you guys talked about was anything new to me. You’re not gonna… stress me out or anything.”

Sam didn’t look entirely convinced by those words, or even soothed at all for that matter. He made another pause as he seemed to consider his next words just as carefully as before, eyes falling down to the empty plate before him, and he silently rearranged his fork and knife neatly onto the plate, resting them side by side on the stained surface, making sure they were properly parallel and just the right distance away from each other. He actually took so long to say anything else that Dean finished drinking his water and leaned back on his own chair, mirroring Sam's pose as he waited for his brother to speak again. 

And at this point, Dean was actually becoming bothered by how long he'd been here, away from Cas, and all he wanted to do now that he was done eating was to go back to the bedroom to stay with the angel, to check on him and make sure that everything was fine; that there wasn't anything wrong with him that Charlie had somehow missed, but he forced himself to swallow that feeling down for now. He was a bit curious about this whole Gabriel thing, he had to admit it, so for what felt like the hundredth time, he told himself that Cas wasn't alone, and that Charlie wouldn't let anything bad happen to the angel; that she would call for them if she needed help with anything.

The constant burn of the Mark on his arm made it hard for Dean to actually believe that, but the pain did feel a lot duller than earlier, weaker, easier to ignore, so that had to mean something, right?

“He said Heaven wouldn’t stop,” Sam finally said, at last breaking the silence that had fallen over them, snapping Dean out of his worried thoughts. His voice was low, hesitant, the way it usually became whenever Sam wasn't sure how to phrase whatever he was thinking, or whenever he was being extra mindful of everything he said. It sounded as though he felt like if he spoke low enough, then maybe that might make his words less heavy, or cause them to have less of an impact somehow, although of course it didn't work that way. “He said that… it doesn’t matter how different you guys’ case is and that you’re healthy, or that you didn't mean for this to happen, because to Heaven that doesn’t change anything.”

Dean nodded numbly, as always feeling a stab of worry digging into his chest at the sound of those words, but fortunately he'd been aware of this for a while now, so he was pretty sure he managed to conceal his reaction pretty well. “Yeah, I knew that already,” he said simply, "Cas and I have talked about that a lot, too."

“Well, the thing is,” Sam leaned forward on his chair again, letting his elbows rest on the table before him as he spoke, and his voice gained a bit of strength all of a sudden, “The way Gabriel said it, or the way he explained it, I guess, it was... I just got a weird feeling that there might be more to that than he’s been letting on.”

Dean frowned at Sam once more, unsure of what his brother could possibly mean by that. What more exactly could there be to this? Could there be something  _else_ they should be worried about, apart from Heaven wanting them dead simply because their baby was a hybrid?

Dean swallowed drily at the thought, but remained silent, waiting to hear more instead of allowing himself to get anxious about this just yet.

Sam let out another breath once he seemed to realize that his brother still had no idea where he wanted to get with this. “Have you ever wondered about, I don’t know, how Gabriel just seems to know so much about this whole nephilim situation? I mean, sure, the guy’s an archangel and all, but… I mean, he has to have learned all of this somewhere. And Cas kept saying that something of this sort has never happened before, but it was Gabriel who told you that, so... haven’t you guys wondered if maybe that might not be the case?”

That actually made Dean pause. Truth be told, he hadn’t even thought about that before, not at all; it had never even crossed his mind to question this until now. Back in Omaha, Gabriel had said that he and Cas were the first ones to actually conceive a natural hybrid, and from then on, that had been a set fact in Dean's mind, a thought that was always just there, almost like something set in stone, but suddenly he caught himself wondering why he hadn't even thought to question that notion before. It wasn’t like Dean had trusted Gabriel at all since the very beginning, so why had this never even occurred to him?

“I mean, it is weird that he knows… well, everything, really,” Dean commented. He reached into his shirt as yet another curious thought crossed his mind, and he pulled the pendant of his necklace out from inside, holding it up so Sam could see it as well and follow his train of thought. “I mean, he gave us this. But… why did he even have it?” Dean had thought about this particular question before, but for some reason he’d just dropped that topic altogether at some point, because a part of his mind had apparently just written it off as Gabriel being alive for billions and billions of years, as well as probably down on Earth during the whole thing with the original Nephilim, so it was only rational to assume that at some point he'd somehow gotten his hands on this.

But what if that wasn’t the case? What if there was more to it? And if there really was a backstory to this, could that be the actual reason why Gabriel was helping them in the first place? Was this the secret motive the archangel had been keeping from them that they hadn’t yet managed to figure out? But what could that even mean? What exactly could that motive be?

What if…?

Oh.

"What exactly did he say, though?" Dean asked.

“That Heaven won't listen, because it was God who forbade nephilims in the first place, so that's all the angels care about. And that we can trust him about that, because he knows for a fact that Heaven will never forgive a hybrid, not even a natural one, no matter the circumstances. And... well, to me, it just sounded like it was personal, like he was actually talking from experience.”

Yeah, that did sound very personal, Dean had to admit it, and it only made him even more curious to know if the idea he had floating around in his head could actually be the truth, or at least if his brother was following the same train of thought as he was.

“Do you think…?”

Sam shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I might be wrong, but... that could mean he either knew an angel who had a… well, a nephilim and helped them hide or something and that's how he got that necklace, or that he…”

"That maybe he had a nephilim of his own, at some point." It made sense. Fuck, Dean realized then just how much fucking sense that made, and he was shocked that he hadn’t even fucking considered this before. "Maybe... Maybe even a natural nephilim."

The air around them felt oddly heavy all of a sudden, and Dean wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it. This didn’t mean he suddenly trusted Gabriel—not at all, actually; Dean doubted that would ever happen—but suddenly he found himself seeing everything the archangel had done throughout the past few months in a whole new light, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that. If there was any amount of truth in that theory, then Gabriel helping them because of some desire to get revenge against Heaven that he'd been harboring for thousands of years actually made perfect sense.

Because that just had to be it, right? By the sound of it, whatever backstory Gabriel might have with the Nephilim hadn't ended well, so revenge made all the fucking sense in the world.

He would have to talk to Cas about this.

"Again, it could be something else entirely," Sam pointed out, "Maybe I'm just reading it all wrong."

"Yeah, maybe, but..." Dean shrugged, shaking his head lightly, as he was still struggling to wrap his mind around this, "It's just something to think about, I guess. That would actually make a lot of sense.” Sam nodded lightly in response, agreeing silently. “I’ll ask Cas about it, when… you know.” Dean's throat felt tighter as said the last part, and he couldn't quite manage to let any more words out then, so he just left it at that, as he knew his brother would get what he'd meant to say regardless.

Sam simply nodded again.

Deciding that the conversation was over, Dean got up from his chair and gathered up his dirty dishes, walking over to the sink. Before he could even think about helping out with washing them, though, Sam was already on his feet beside him, taking the plate and glass away from him and all but shooing Dean away from the sink.

With a huff, Dean gave his brother a mildly annoyed look, but immediately he knew that it had not come across quite right. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be truly annoyed about this, because he knew Sam was just worried about him and the baby. But that didn’t mean Dean wasn’t going to complain about it. “You don’t need to go overboard with this, you know that, right?”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “You shouldn’t be doing anything apart from resting right now, Dean.”

He knew his brother had a point, of course, but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at him nonetheless. Worried or not, Sam might be going a bit too far with this. “You know, you’re getting as bad as Cas with this. He doesn't even want to let me carry my own bag anymore. He actually complains about it and tries to convince me to let him carry it for me every time.” And Dean was pretty sure he'd only actually won all of those little discussions they'd had up until now because he would always use the argument that Sam and Charlie might get suspicious if Cas simply always carried Dean's bag for him, so the hunter wasn't sure how that might play out now that those two being suspicious wasn't an issue anymore.

He had a pretty good guess about that one already.

“And he’s right,” Sam gave him another look, “You shouldn’t be carrying weight.”

Great. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother again, letting out yet another annoyed huff as he shook his head at Sam, but in the end Dean decided it just wasn’t worth arguing about this right now. It wasn’t like he could possibly win a discussion about this, and Sam could be just as stubborn as Dean when he wanted to, so it really wasn’t worth it.

So he just left it at that, choosing to simply let the matter go, falling silent instead of replying. He still lingered in the kitchen, though, rummaging through the cabinets until he found a small bowl, then filling it with water, intending to take it to his room so that Juliet could have some water to drink whenever she wanted it. Dean felt a weight in his consciousness about that now, because what if she'd been hungry and thirsty up until now? He knew it wasn't really his fault, because he still had no idea if hellhounds even needed food or water, so this issue had not even occurred to him until now, but that didn't mean he didn't feel incredibly guilty for it.

Sam looked confused by Dean's actions for only a moment, until understanding flooded his features as he watched Dean fill the bowl with water, and he simply nodded silently at his brother as Dean finally started walking over to the kitchen door, carefully holding the now full bowl in his hand.

Dean walked out of the kitchen without another word, only to find that Juliet had relocated to the living room, where she was currently lying right in front of the fireplace, occupying the exact same spot she'd chosen when they'd first gotten to this cabin with Crowley. She perked up as soon as she saw him, though, and she was quick to get up, tail moving back and forth excitedly. She wasted no time to trot over to where Dean was, as well as to follow the human out of the living room and into the hallway, letting out a low, happy bark as she proceeded to sniff at him. And as they walked side by side down the hallway, Dean noticed it was almost as if she was escorting him somehow, a thought that had the human smiling down at the hound and placing a hand on her back. He didn't even need to lean to the side to do it because of her size, he noticed. She really was enormous, even for a hellhound.

At least he thought so, anyway.

It really was a good thing that she acted like an oversized puppy most of the time.

Back in the bedroom, Dean relieved Charlie of her babysitting duties, and as she left, the redhead gave him nothing more than a shy, careful smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Dean tried to respond with a small, thankful smile of his own, but he could easily tell that he failed miserably at it.

And once Charlie was gone, Dean walked over to where Juliet usually laid down and set the bowl of water on the floor. The hellhound followed him there, still sniffing curiously at him, and he patted the side of the bowl to call her attention to it. It worked, and the hound quickly proceeded to sniff at the bowl, looking like she wasn't quite sure what to do with it, but eventually she gave the water an experimental lick, then another, before she actually understood what she was supposed to do. She continued to drink slowly after that, though calmly, tongue dragging over the surface of the water like she was still trying to figure out how the mechanics of drinking it worked, sometimes just pausing to stare down at the liquid curiously, others simply sniffing at it and looking even more confused with her ears lowered and head tilted. As he watched her, Dean wondered if she was actually thirsty or if she was simply drinking out of curiosity, though he had no way to know. It wasn't like he could ask her.

Dean ran his hand over her back for a moment, petting her a little before deciding he should just leave her to drink her water. So with one last pat to the hound's neck, Dean got back to his feet and walked over to the bed, where he sat down on the exact same spot he'd chosen yesterday while tending to Cas' wounds. Juliet paused her drinking once she noticed he'd moved away, lifting her head from the bowl and eyeing him curiously for a moment, as though trying to figure out what he intended to do, before bowing her head and lowering her ears soon after, apparently realizing that he wasn't going to give her any more attention now. She let out a sad whine, moving away from the bowl so she could curl up on the floor on her usual spot, but she made no other sound once she was lying down.

Dean actually felt bad for completely neglecting her like this, he really did, but Cas needed his attention right now, so she'd have to understand it.

Yet again, Dean found that Cas still hadn’t moved at all while the hunter hadn't been in the room with him. The angel was just as Dean had left him, and that realization only made Dean’s chest even heavier with worry. Checking Cas' temperature once more, Dean noticed that the damn fever did seem to have gone down just a tiny bit, but it was still there, which also still worried Dean quite a lot.

Whenever he spent some time away from this room, even if only a few minutes, he couldn't help but grow hopeful about finding Cas awake and better once he came back, but every single time that hope just crumbled down to dust, as though slipping away through the gaps between his fingers and floating off with the wind. He felt so completely useless and he really fucking hated it. There was nothing he could do but simply hope that his soul was helping Cas, and that Gabriel would actually manage to find all the ingredients for the feathers spell, and fast, too, because they really were running out of time now.

And the fact that Cas was still unconscious was really weighing down on Dean's mind by now. Gabriel had said that the angel would need time to heal and that he probably would take a while to wake up, but there was a little voice in the back of Dean's head that insisted it wasn't that simple. The Mark was almost constantly burning on his arm now—a lot more weakly at this point, true, but it was still there, constantly making its presence known—and that had Dean wondering if maybe Cas wouldn't be able to wake up on his own from this; if this might somehow be a similar situation to what Dean had gone through when the Mark had trapped him in that damn coma. However, according to Cas, Dean had muttered quite a lot during the time he'd spent enduring the illusions, and sometimes he would even scream out for help. Also, the angel would often get flashes from the images plaguing Dean's mind, and none of that seemed to be the case with whatever was happening to Cas right now, as the bond was still worryingly numb and Dean wasn't receiving absolutely anything from the angel at the moment, but that wasn't enough to convince Dean that everything was fine.

What if the Mark was torturing Cas right in front of him, but Dean had no idea it was even happening? How would Dean even be able to stop it if that was the case? How could he possibly break the angel out of something like that? How would he even  _know_ if there was anything going on in Cas' mind?

Dean had no fucking idea, and that thought was truly fucking terrifying.

Anxiety and worry built up quickly inside of him, so Dean tried to push those thoughts away for now, suddenly feeling like he needed to get himself busy. He needed to do something,  _anything_ , and normally, whenever he felt like he had to occupy his mind somehow, whenever he just wanted to feel useful, he would turn to research. He knew they still had to figure out the whole codex situation, even though they wouldn't be able to actually use the thing until they found Cas' Grace, but that didn't mean they should stop working on it at all. The Mark was still a problem, and it would continue to be one until they figured out how to get the damn thing off his arm, which at the moment meant finding a way to read the Book of the Damned.

But he didn't want to deal with that right now. He still felt unusually tired, so he didn't think he could actually concentrate on research today. His mind felt heavy, thoughts unfocused and messy, and he assumed both his worry and tiredness were very much to blame for all of that. There were, however, a few things Dean could get done inside this room that didn't require any reading or comparing of endless ancient texts at all, so he settled for doing those instead.

So he closed the door of the room, before walking back over to the bed and fetching the first aid kit from under it, intending to check Cas' wounds to make sure none of them had gotten infected, as well as to see if they were all healing properly. He checked every single one of the cuts, removing the necessary layers of clothing and putting them back on once he was done looking everything over, cleaning the cuts again and changing all the bandages. It only made him even more worried to notice that the wounds had barely healed at all since he'd last tended to them last night, except for the ugly gash on the angel's side, which was at least marginally better than it had been a few hours ago (and apparently it really wouldn't need stitches, which was also a good thing), as well as the cut above the angel's hairline, which was also a bit better, but only barely. And Dean was relieved to see all that, he really was, because this had to mean that the hunter's soul was helping Cas at least to some degree, but even so, everything was healing very slowly, even slower than the cut Cas had made on his arm with the Angel Blade back in Absarokee, so this couldn’t mean anything good.

Once he was done tending to Cas' wounds, Dean tucked the first aid kit back under the bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom to get rid of everything that needed to be thrown away, dealing with everything there as fast as he could before hurrying back into the bedroom. He checked Cas again to make sure the angel was fine once he was back in the room, then walked over to where their bags were, deciding he might as well fix the mess he’d made in Cas’ bag the previous day. At least he wouldn’t be too far away from Cas, and he decided to take the fact that it didn’t hurt as much as it had yesterday to be just a few steps away from the angel as a good sign. Even going to the kitchen to eat earlier hadn't caused as much of a strain to the bond as spending only a couple of minutes across the hallway in the bathroom yesterday had, and that had to mean that Cas was getting better at least—slowly, true, but Dean took this as yet another sign that the seraph's Grace was healing nonetheless.

So Dean sat down on the floor right in front of Cas’ bag, once more moving as carefully as he could to make sure the baby would be fine, before unzipping the bag so he could start working. He began taking items out one by one, neatly folding each one of them as he placed them on the floor beside himself, making small little piles that he would arrange inside the bag once he had everything properly sorted out. He wasn't sure how Cas did this—he hadn't even paid attention to how the clothes had been laid out inside the bag yesterday to notice whether or not Cas had some sort of system to how everything was supposed to be placed—all he knew was that everything had been very carefully folded and arranged inside the bag before he'd messed it all up, so Dean decided to go by color and hoped it would be fine, as long as everything was actually organized somehow.

It didn’t take long for Juliet to take notice of how Dean was very much reachable on the spot he was currently occupying on the floor, and she wasted no time to move closer to him, lying down right beside him with her side pressed against his hip. So every few minutes Dean would stop what he was doing to pet her, scratching the side of her head and under her chin, running his hand over her fur in repetitive, almost mindless motions. He really felt bad for neglecting her so much now, so he hoped this would make her feel at least a little happier with him.

It did seem to work, at least. Her tail wagged excitedly every time he gave her attention, joined by the eventual purr she would let out whenever he would make a pause to pet her.

He couldn't help but smile softly at the scene.

Things didn't change for a while, and quickly Dean's movements fell into some sort of pattern—take an item out, fold it, put it in a pile, then do it again a few more times before pausing to give Juliet attention. It was actually pretty soothing how mindless doing all that was. The repeated actions were surprisingly calming, Juliet's presence beside him grounding somehow.

Something different caught his eye about halfway through the contents of the bag, though.

It was hidden under Cas’ dark green shirt. Dean could see a bit of strong yellow peeking out from under the fabric, as if whatever was under there had been deliberately shoved deep into the bag so it wasn’t visible, then covered up with a bunch of clothes to make sure it was properly hidden from sight. And Dean knew for a fact that Cas didn’t own any item of clothing of that color, or at least if he did have anything of such a strong yellow, Dean had never seen the angel wear it, nor had the hunter been with him when he'd bought it, so Dean couldn't help but frown curiously at the thing as he dug his hand further into the bag to grab it.

What he felt when he touched the yellow item was surprising, the texture that brushed against his skin certainly not what he'd expected. It didn’t feel at all like clothing; it was actually pretty thick, it seemed, but confusingly soft to the touch.

Curious, he pulled it out of the bag.

And what he found himself holding was definitely not what he’d expected to see.

It was a small stuffed giraffe; a plushie, actually, which explained why it felt so soft. It had yellow plush covering most of its body, but it had brown hooves and a pink belly, plus a handful of blue and green spots covering a small portion of its sides near the butt. On its head, it had two small black eyes and a red nose, plus a little sewed on smile and two small ears, which were yellow on the outside and pink on the inside. It also had tiny little purple horns (were they really horns, though? Dean was pretty sure that wasn't the right name for them) on the top of its head and a little tail with an orange tip on its butt. When Dean moved the plushie a bit in his hand, it made noise, and he assumed there was a small bell inside of it that made some sort of tinkling sound whenever he shook the toy.

It was adorable.

Dean had no idea when or where Cas had gotten this, but it didn’t really matter. What truly mattered was that the single sight of the plushie had a smile slipping into Dean’s lips and caused his chest to feel considerably warmer all of a sudden. His eyes started to burn, and he sniffed once as he imagined their baby clinging to the giraffe, grabbing one of its legs with a tiny little fist. He imagined himself placing the plushie inside a crib right beside the baby so they could grab it whenever they wanted it, or maybe he would place it in the corner of the cradle, as though watching over the baby throughout the night. That seemed like such a distant image to be thinking about, though, as right now it was so far away, so much that it seemed almost unreal.

It was nothing more than simply a fantasy at this point.

They hadn’t bought anything for the baby yet, of course. They had no crib, no clothes, no diapers, no blankets, no toys (except for this one now), no bottles, no pacifiers—they had pretty much nothing that a baby would need right now, but it was still pretty early, so Dean wasn’t even thinking about all that just yet.

Actually, Dean was doing his best not to think about what would come after the baby was born in general, because every single time he did, the constant, insistent fear that they wouldn’t get to that part made itself known in his mind, stabbing at his heart, reminding him that at this rate, maybe he wouldn't even get to meet their baby; that maybe their child wouldn't even get the chance to be born. He couldn’t even bear the thought of it, so he did what he always did and tried to push it all away, to just shove the actual fucking despair that simply thinking about that particular subject usually brought to him, but of course that didn't work.

It was heartwarming to think that Cas had probably seen this at a store somewhere and thought of their baby, it truly was, but with the angel's current state looming over his head, with the constant fear that maybe they wouldn’t be able to make it out of this one, that their baby might never even get the chance to ever hold that toy, Dean found himself pushing the giraffe back into the bag as his eyes continued to burn, the first few tears pooling into them before he could stop them. And if a few stray tears did end up sliding down his cheeks while he continued to organize the contents of Cas’ bag, if Dean found himself sniffing quite often and rubbing his eyes from time to time in a completely futile attempt to try and rid them of the burn, well, there was no one there to see it but Juliet, and it wasn't like she would tell anyone about it.

She did keep curiously sniffing at his face quite a lot, though, as if confused by all the tears, whining softly whenever he tried to push her away. But as cute as it was that she looked so worried about him, Dean found that suddenly he no longer had the presence of mind to give her attention. Fortunately, she gave up on trying to figure out what was happening soon enough, apparently deciding that there was nothing she could do to help and choosing to simply press herself even closer to Dean's side as she laid back down onto the floor right beside him, growing completely quiet once she was settled. He still wasn’t completely sure just how much of what was happening around her the hellhound actually understood, but it really did seem like she could at least tell that he was upset and wanted to make him feel better somehow, but couldn't find a way to do it.

He finished working on Cas’ bag not too long after, but once that was done, instead of lingering inside the room and simply lying down on the bed with Cas for a while as he'd previously planned to do, Dean actually found himself walking out of the bedroom with hurried, almost unsteady steps. He decided he wouldn’t be able to just sit around without doing anything right now, even if maybe that was exactly what he should be doing. The last thing he wanted to do now was to give his mind a chance to wander; to allow his thoughts to move in any of the directions he really didn’t want them to go, which was bound to happen after the moment he'd just had because of the plushie, so he knew he had to keep himself busy somehow, and there was only one way to do that now, even if he wasn't exactly thrilled about it.

He crossed the hallway and walked into the bathroom, where he threw some water on his face to try and hide the fact that he'd been crying, before making his way to the living room. And once he got there, he wasn't at all surprised to find Sam and Charlie sitting on the couch, working on what he assumed to be the codex, with countless books spread all over the coffee table, as well as endless piles of papers with either symbols drawn all over them or pictures of the Book of the Damned covering every single available surface there was around them. The codex was also there, but it was closed, resting on the table near one of its farthest corners, pretty much out of reach for both Sam and Charlie, so Dean assumed they weren't using it right now, instead apparently basing their work solely on all the notes they had already written down about it up until now.

The pair seemed very startled to see him wandering around, pausing their work to look at up at Dean as soon as he walked into the room, twin confused and surprised looks flooding their features as they both watched him slowly make his way over to where they were sitting.

"Dean," Sam let out, frowning at his brother, "Hey. What... Are you okay?"

It would have been very hard to miss the shift in his brother's voice. Sam's tone went from surprised to concerned very quickly, and Dean had a pretty good idea why that happened. He knew he must look like crap right now, but he also didn't want to talk about it.

"I'm fine," he replied, shaking his head weakly, and even to himself the words sounded forced, very clearly not completely sincere.

"You sure about that?" Charlie questioned, frown deepening as she seemed to take in the sight of him even more carefully now, "You don't look too good."

Sam turned a bit on his seat so he could also take a better look at his brother, and he actually looked just about to stand up from the couch and step over to where Dean was to check him over or something, maybe even try to steady him somehow. Dean wondered if he really looked that out of it, if it was really that obvious that he felt incredibly anxious and wobbly all of a sudden, or if the two were simply overreacting. He had no idea.

"She's right," Sam announced, "I mean, Dean, you look..."

"I'm okay, guys, seriously," Dean insisted, and maybe his words came out a little harsher than he'd meant them to, but at least it got Sam to pause and settle back against his seat a bit. "I'm just... I don't know, anxious, I guess. But I'm fine, really."

They didn't look convinced, of course, but Dean didn't wait for a response and instead moved even closer to them, looking over the mess of papers and books on the coffee table until finally he spotted a couple of familiar titles that he had been working on himself back at the Bunker, and he quickly reached out to grab them, as it didn't look like the pair was using any of those right now. He could also see a few of his own notes, recognized his familiar handwriting scrawled on a handful of the papers before him, and he picked those up as well, placing them on top of the books so he could carry everything more easily. He shouldn't take the codex with him, though, even though he would probably need it if he actually wanted to get anywhere with his research, as he hadn't worked much on the codex back in Branson, so he didn't have nearly enough notes on it to get any progress made. But Sam and Charlie were the ones who actually had any hope of figuring out how to use the thing, so of course he wouldn't take it with him. He should be fine for a while with what he had, he reasoned, as deep down, Dean already knew that this would lead to nothing. He just wanted to do some research to try and distract himself somehow; to occupy his mind before he actually went mad.

He was reaching out to grab a pen when Sam spoke again.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, giving his brother something very close to an incredulous look. Once more, he looked like he was about to get up from the couch, but Dean was pretty sure that this time his brother might actually be considering simply tearing the books and papers right out of his hands.

“I just gotta do something,” Dean was quick to reply, shrugging lightly, “I can’t just lay around all day. I just… I figured I could help you guys out with this, at least.”

"Dean, you gotta rest," Charlie commented, voice gentle and soft, as though afraid to spook him or set him off somehow if she spoke any louder.

Sam, on the other hand, didn't seem to agree with her careful approach. He shook his head at Dean, eyes growing wider all of a sudden, disbelief quickly bleeding into his features. He actually sounded like he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard as he said, “Dean, you can't be serious. I don’t think you should—”

“It’s just research, guys,” Dean insisted, “Seriously, what effort would I be making by just reading a few books and writing down notes from time to time?”

Neither one of the two seemed able to find an answer to that, which Dean was very much glad for, even though they didn't look particularly happy about it. A heavy pause followed, loaded with all the words Sam and Charlie clearly wanted to say, with all the arguments that were surely just hanging from the tips of their tongues, but in the end, much to Dean's relief, both of them relented—Charlie first, letting out a low sigh as she nodded at him, and then a beat later Sam finally relaxed, body sagging a bit as he, too, gave his brother a slow, hesitant nod.

Sam still tried to get Dean to let him carry the books for him, though, to which Dean vehemently replied that he could do it by himself—it wasn’t like two books, a few papers and a pen weighed that much, so this was actually getting a bit ridiculous.

Seriously, those two were getting as bad as Cas with this, maybe even worse.

Once he was back in the bedroom, Dean noticed Juliet had relocated to the bed while he'd been gone, and she now had her head resting on Cas’ middle, having at some point arranged herself on the bed just as she’d done yesterday. It was almost as though she'd been watching over the angel while Dean wasn't here, and the sight of it actually made the hunter smile.

He gave the hellhound a brief pat on the head before he sat down on the bed. It was really no surprise to find that Cas was exactly as he'd been before; hadn't moved even a single inch on the bed, and Dean did his best to not let himself think too much of it. So instead, he arranged himself on the bed, burying his legs under the covers with his back propped up against the headboard behind him, books and papers resting both on his lap and on the nightstand beside him.

And once he was comfortable enough, he got to work.

And he really did try. He checked his notes and went back to where he’d stopped the last time he’d tried to do this, which had been a couple of days ago, the morning of the day he'd run into the Stynes back in Branson. He still doubted he would be able to make much progress on the research front, as no matter how hard he'd been trying and how many hours he'd spent with his nose buried in a book up until now, he had yet to actually get somewhere with his research on the Book, but at least he had something to do now; something to occupy his mind with.

However, Dean found it extremely hard to actually concentrate on what he was reading, as his stubborn mind insisted on wandering from time to time. Way too often, a stray thought would make itself known in his mind, so far too many times Dean would find himself going back on whatever text he had just skimmed through without meaning to and rereading the same paragraph over and over again a handful of times until finally he actually managed to grasp its meaning, which became incredibly annoying really fast, but that wasn't something Dean could actually control. His mind was oddly detached, and that seemed to only get worse as the hours passed and his worry grew in his chest, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Because as the hours dragged on, Dean became even more bothered by the fact that Cas was still unconscious and that the angel's fever had yet to lower, or by how the bond still remained completely numb. So very often throughout the day, the hunter found himself yet again wondering if maybe Cas wasn't simply unconscious; if there was another reason for the angel's current state other than the fact that he needed more time to heal. The Mark was almost constantly burning now, which was definitely not a good sign and only made Dean even more worried about that possibility. The hunter remembered way too well what it had felt like to be trapped in his own mind with no chance of breaking out by himself, and if this was what was happening to Cas right now, then Dean would do anything in his power to make it better, to help him get through this. But again, he had no fucking way to break Cas out, or to even know if there was anything wrong going on in the angel's mind to begin with.

Also, the more he stared at all the meaningless symbols before him and found absolutely no matches, the longer he went without coming across any sort of useful information at all, the more convinced he became that maybe Rowena had been speaking the truth and this codex really couldn't be read by just anyone. Maybe she really was one of the only people on the planet who could actually use the codex to read the Book of the Damned, and that thought was pretty much the opposite of encouraging. If that really was true, then this whole thing was pointless, nothing more than a wild goose chase that would get them absolutely nowhere in the end. And that would also mean that they would need to work with Rowena if they really had to use the Book, and Dean just didn't think that was something he was willing to do.

So, as it turned out, research wasn't as distracting as Dean had hoped it would be.

At some point during the day, when Dean felt like he needed a break from research and that insisting on it might actually do him more bad than good, he asked Sam and Charlie to help him change the sheets on his and Cas' bed. The bedding had been stained with a bit of both blood and dirt since yesterday, but part of Dean had been hopeful that Cas might wake up soon, so they wouldn't need to actually ask for help to change it. Apparently, though, that wouldn't be the case, and Dean finally decided that couldn't wait anymore. They'd already spent one night lying on dirty sheets, and he didn't think they should do it again, even if there wasn't all that much blood and dirt on the sheets at all; just a handful of small stains here and there.

Still, the sight of them had been bothering Dean quite a bit, and it was something else he could do to try and distract himself, anyway.

It took a lot of maneuvering from Sam and Charlie (and Dean, even though the other two weren't happy about it), and they had to lift Cas partially here and there so they could remove the dirty sheets and place the clean ones under the angel, but in the end they managed, and soon enough Cas was lying on a clean set of sheets and had been carefully tucked in under a warm blanket, looking just as peaceful as he had before.

That wasn't exactly a good thing, though; it was actually quite the opposite of that, but Dean hurried to push that thought away, reminding himself once more that there was nothing he could do to fix this, so getting constantly worked up about it might actually do the very opposite of helping, but of course that did very little to soothe his mind.

Unsurprisingly, night fell and Dean had yet to make any significant progress with his research. Again, it wasn't like he had expected to actually get anywhere with it, but it was just so incredibly frustrating how he felt like nothing had changed at all; like after all the hours he'd spent staring at those books and repeatedly going through his notes, he was still exactly where he'd started, so of course he grew more and more annoyed as the day went on, and he was just about to give up on doing any more research at all for the day when Sam walked into the room carrying dinner for both of them—on the same tray from yesterday, his brother had set two plates filled with a heated up portion of the spaghetti from lunch, plus a glass of water.

And fortunately, the smell of food didn’t send Dean running to the bathroom this time.

It did, however, catch Juliet's attention. Dean actually saw the exact moment when Juliet realized that Sam was carrying food, as she immediately perked up on her spot in the corner of the room, as she had moved back to the floor when they'd changed the bedding and hadn't come back to the bed since then. Amused, Dean watched her head shooting up from where it had been resting on her paws as she eyed the younger Winchester brother curiously, ears rising as she sniffed the air before her snout, but for some reason she didn't get up to move closer.

"Hey," Sam said, completely oblivious to the invisible hellhound watching his every movement with undivided attention, "Thought you might be hungry."

Dean smiled softly at Sam, even though part of him really wanted to yet again complain about the coddling. But he couldn't find it in himself to do it right now, not after the day he'd had, or with how utterly exhausted he already felt. "Yeah," he said instead, "Was thinking about going out there to eat, actually."

Sam nodded, giving his brother a small, tentative smile, "Well, now you don't have to."

Dean thought to comment that there wouldn't be a problem if he had walked out there to go get his own food, but he didn't, instead letting the words die on his tongue. Again, he was just too tired for that discussion right now, so he simply nodded weakly in response.

Sam placed the glass on the nightstand once he reached the bed and picked up his own plate, then handed his brother the tray. Dean thanked him, and then watched as Sam pulled up the same chair from the day before closer to the bed, sitting down on it as he got ready to eat his own dinner. He looked just about to dig into his meal, actually, but the older brother hesitated before doing the same, staring down at his plate in silence for a moment, hands resting on either side of the tray, not yet reaching for the cutlery. He was suddenly overly aware of what he was supposed to be doing now, but of course he couldn't quite make himself to do it right away. It actually took him a moment to do anything at all, and the odd pause caused a confused frown to appear in Sam's brows.

"Just a sec," Dean said, finally managing to make himself move, carefully moving the water glass a bit farther away so he could place the tray on the nightstand as well, before slowly getting up from the bed, which of course only made Sam even more confused.

Without another word, Dean walked over to the foot of the bed, carefully crouching down and opening his bag, reaching into it so he could fish out the small box of vitamins from inside. He opened the box and let one of the tablets fall onto his palm, and he could actually  _feel_ Sam’s eyes on him as he did it; could very easily imagine the even more confused frown he knew must have taken place in his brother’s brows, but he didn’t look up as he tossed the small tablet into his mouth. He closed the small box and stashed it away in the bag, still refusing to glance over at his brother and meet his gaze, before zipping the bag shut.

It was actually only after Dean had walked back over to the bed, followed the tablet with a generous gulp from his water, set the tray back onto his lap and picked up his fork to start eating, not even once meeting his brother's gaze, that Sam actually spoke up.

“What was that?”

Dean paused, taking a beat to actually look up at Sam, because of course he shouldn't have hoped for even a second that maybe Sam would just let that go without a comment. Letting out a breath, Dean lifted his head, and he found his brother frowning even more intensely at him, eyeing him curiously, exactly as Dean had expected him to be doing. “Oh, it’s, uh…” The older brother cleared his throat, glancing back down at his food for a second before forcing himself to look back up to meet his brother’s gaze again, a weak, subtle shrug forming on his shoulders as he said, “Vitamins. You know… prenatal and stuff.”

Understanding flooded Sam’s features at those words, and he nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically. “Right. Of course you would need to…” He swallowed, apparently changing his mind about whatever he had been about to say. “Do you need to take a lot of those? I mean, how different is…?”

“I take two every day,” Dean explained, “Each with a meal, usually with breakfast and dinner. I think it’s supposed to be one a day, normally, or at least that's what the box says, but… Cas said I should take two. He’s the one who picks them out and all.”

Sam nodded in response, apparently taking a moment to process that new piece of information, and yet again, Dean was actually a bit impressed with how well Sam seemed to be taking this; with how his brother pretty much just took every single new piece of information Dean presented him with in stride. He didn't even seem mad that they had kept the baby a secret from him for so long; he had just... accepted it all, and now he was doing everything he could to help them, to make sure Dean, Cas and the baby were fine. He might even be going a bit overboard with the coddling, but again, Dean couldn't really make himself be truly annoyed with it. Sam was worried, and he got that. Dean would be lying if he said he wasn't as well.

And Sam's reaction had actually been one of the reasons why Dean had been so hesitant to tell him about the nephilim in the first place, so seeing the way his brother was dealing with everything now was truly a relief. Now Dean realized that there hadn't really been any need for all that worry; that he really had been stressing over this for no reason at all.

As it turned out, Cas had been right after all.

Wordlessly declaring the conversation over, Dean looked back down at his food, finally starting to eat his spaghetti. And fortunately, Sam didn't make any other comment on the subject, instead choosing to simply follow his brother's lead, falling silent as they both dug into their meals, which the older brother was very much glad for.

It didn't take long for that to change, though.

It was only about a couple of minutes later when finally Juliet seemed to decide she should join them on the bed, trotting over to it and quickly jumping up onto the mattress. She stepped very carefully on the bed, as though afraid to disturb Cas somehow, pausing only when she was pretty much sitting on Dean's legs. And once she was close enough for it, she lowered her head as she sniffed at Dean's food, curious nose getting dangerously close to his plate.

"Okay, no, that's not for you," Dean said as he gently pushed her head away before she could try to take a mouthful of food off his plate, "Juliet, no."

The hound whined in response, ears lowering against her head, puppy dog eyes falling into place startlingly quickly.

Damn it.

Dean sighed, shaking his head as he picked up a meatball from his plate, holding it up for her to see. Juliet licked her lips at the sight, eyes suddenly completely fixated on the small ball of meat. "This is all you're getting, okay?" he said, and Juliet huffed, hitting his leg softly with one of her paws a few times, as though telling him to stop playing around and to just give her the damn thing already.

And Dean did give it to her, though he decided to be bold this time and instead of simply tossing the meatball to her, he held it out for her with the tips of his fingers.

Juliet was very careful as she took the meatball from him, slowly leaning in, then being surprisingly mindful of how Dean's fingers were in the way as she grabbed the meatball with her mouth, as though genuinely afraid to hurt him somehow, which had Dean smiling softly at her. She swallowed the whole thing at once as soon as it was in her mouth, barely even giving Dean time to let his hand fall back to rest on the tray again before turning those big begging eyes back to him.

"Don't give me that look," Dean warned her, but after the display he'd just gotten from her, he couldn't quite make his tone as firm as he'd intended, and he felt his resolve melting away the longer he stared into those puppy dog eyes. And only a very short moment later Dean found himself shaking his head in defeat, letting out a resigned breath as he picked up a second meatball. "You know, you're too cute for your own good."

Juliet let out a happy bark, eyes completely focused on the new meatball as her tail wagged, dragging over the blankets as it moved rapidly from side to side, filling the air of the room with the almost constant sound of it repeatedly brushing against the fabric beneath it.

Letting out an amused huff, Dean gave her the second meatball the same way he'd fed her the other one—giving it to her instead of tossing it in the air for her to grab, and exactly as she'd done before, Juliet was very careful as she took the offered food from him, which for some reason was all kinds of adorable. This time, though, once she was done with her food, Dean lifted his hand a bit more so he could pet her on the head, and she sniffed at his hand for a second, probably to check if there wasn't another meatball there, before leaning into the touch, closing her eyes as he slowly stroked her fur.

And apparently that had been enough to make her happy, because soon enough she was leaning away from Dean, jumping off the bed and walking back over to her usual spot on the floor. She took a few sips of water from her bowl, before lying down onto the wooden floor, as though declaring that now that she'd been fed, Dean was allowed to continue eating.

Dean laughed lightly at the scene.

"The hellhound glasses are in the Impala, right?"

Dean turned to look at Sam again, finding his brother staring over at where Juliet was lying on the floor. He was squinting a bit, though, because of course all he could see over there was empty air.

"Yeah," Dean replied, and Sam turned his head back around to look at his brother, "They should be in the trunk."

Sam nodded. "I'll go get them tomorrow, so Charlie and I can see her. I don't like walking around the cabin without knowing where she is."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. She probably won't like it if you step on her tail or something."

Sam chuckled, nodding again, "True."

Another pause followed as the two brothers went back to silently eating their food. However, contrary to what Dean would have expected, the silence wasn't uncomfortable at all; it was simply a consequence of them being too busy eating and enjoying their meal.

Well, at least that was what Dean had thought it was, until Sam spoke again.

"How..." Dean's head snapped up to meet Sam's eyes, and he was surprised to find his brother looking oddly uncomfortable and tense all of a sudden, though Dean had no idea what the reason for that might be. He hadn't even noticed a change in his brother's demeanor at all up until now, so he was pretty confused by it.

But then Sam's eyes moved to rest on Cas, and suddenly it all made sense.

"How's he doing?" Sam asked, voice very much low and tentative, sounding like he was choosing his words very carefully, "I mean... did anything change, or can you... feel anything new from the bond yet?"

Dean swallowed, dragging his last meatball around on his plate with his fork, taking a beat to respond. The Mark perked up even more at the question, which had him swallowing drily, yet again holding back the urge to lift his hand to scratch at it, not wishing to worry Sam even more with the gesture. The damn thing had burned constantly throughout the entire day, but the pain had remained dull most of the time, not actually hard to ignore, which really was a relief. But apparently the single mention of Cas already had the Mark deciding it was time to be annoying and bother him again, as though to remind Dean that the damn thing was to blame for a big portion of what was happening now.

“No," Dean replied, annoyed that his voice came out so hoarse and weak, "The bond's still numb. His fever’s a little lower, but… He's not good. Not good at all.” He shook his head lightly, letting out a breath, feeling the weight of his own words settling over his chest, and he quickly tried to change the topic, or at least guide the conversation in another direction, one that he thought he might be able to handle a little better. “How’s research going for you guys?”

Sam paused for a moment, maybe considering if he should comment on the subject change at all, but fortunately he didn't say anything about it. Instead, the younger brother ran his hand through his hair, letting out a tired breath himself as he said, “We’re not really getting anywhere with it, but we still have a lot of stuff to go through, different approaches to try. So maybe we might be able to break the code soon, and then the Mark wouldn’t be such a problem for Cas.”

Dean paused at the words, fork halting where it was still moving around on his plate as suddenly Dean realized that he hadn’t yet told Sam about how Cas’ Grace would have to come first, before they could even attempt to try to remove the Mark. It had just slipped his mind, with everything that had been going on, but maybe he should have addressed this sooner.

He felt his chest even heavier at the thought that he was about to dump a bucket of cold water over his brother’s head and completely wash away the hopeful look in his eyes, but he knew he had to do it.

“Yeah, that’s not…” He swallowed again, shaking his head weakly as he lowered his hand to place his fork on the edge of the plate. “That won’t work. I mean, we should keep trying to figure out how to use the codex so we can read the Book, but… even if we do manage to actually break the code, removing the Mark will still have to wait a while.”

“Why?” Sam asked, frowning at him, surprise and confusion clearly bleeding into his voice.

Dean hesitated for a beat, feeling the words stuck on his tongue, harder to let out than he'd expected. The Mark was full on hissing by now, and Dean had to actually take a breath, attempting to calm himself down a bit to try and push it away. It didn't quite work. “Cas won’t make it," he whispered, finally managing to push the words out of his mouth, and hearing them being said out loud like that actually hurt a lot more than he'd expected it to, "I mean, he said he doesn’t think he would survive removing the Mark, not with his Grace so low.”

That actually made Sam pause, and his eyes moved over to Cas one more time, apparently feeling the need to avoid his brother’s gaze while he processed what Dean had just told him, as though looking for some sort of confimation of what he'd just heard, maybe even going through all the possible consequences of that new piece of information in his head. Dean wasn't sure what his brother found or what conclusions he came to, but suddenly Sam's shoulders seemed a lot stiffer, heavier under the weight of his brother's words. Dean hated to see the change, because he had been the one to cause it, but Sam needed to know about this.

“Dean, have you talked to Cas about…” It was only then that Sam turned his head again to look back at his brother, and when he did, Dean noticed his eyes looked much heavier than before, more loaded somehow. “You know, him taking another angel’s Grace? I mean, I know it wouldn't actually solve anything, I get that, but... it would buy us more time.”

The comment made Dean pause. He’d thought about this before, of course; that idea had actually come up once in a conversation with Cas a few months ago, back in Absarokee, but that had been before they’d even known about the baby. And at the time, Cas had made it very clear that he did not have any intention of killing another angel in order to save his own life, but their situation had been very different a few months ago. The stakes had not been nearly as high back then as they were now, so once more the hunter caught himself wondering whether or not the angel’s opinion on that particular idea might have changed.

“I have, actually, but… months ago, when Cas first told me about the bond, before we even knew about the baby.” He took in a breath, then let it out slowly, feeling his shoulders drop in both defeat and exhaustion as he did it, chest still feeling worryingly tight. The Mark continued to grumble to itself, but at least the hissing seemed lower now, the burn not quite as strong. “He didn’t want to kill another angel, because he didn’t want another angel to die in order for him to live. And I wasn't happy with that, but I... I didn't argue with him back then. We didn't even know how complicated everything really was at the time, and I just thought it might not come to that, but now…" He shrugged feebly, shaking his head lightly as he turned his head to the side to glance at Cas, for what seemed like the thousandth time feeling his chest ache at the sight of the unconscious angel. He felt the urge to lift his hand and run it through Cas' hair, but Sam was there, so Dean held back, instead simply letting out a tired sigh, feeling his voice grow lower, weaker as he finished, "Now I actually wish he would agree to it.”

Sam nodded numbly, apparently not finding anything to say in response, or maybe he just felt like it wasn't his place to press more on that idea; like this was something Dean and Cas had to sort out by themselves, which actually was the case here, so Dean was glad his brother chose to drop the subject for now. And as silence fell over them agan, Dean went back to eating his food, making a mental note to bring this up with Cas again once he got the chance.

Sam followed his brother's lead and focused back on his food, and with that particular conversation still looming heavily over their heads, the two finished their meals. They didn't speak much, though, and very soon Sam was leaving the room, carrying all the dirty dishes piled up on the tray, leaving Dean alone with Cas and Juliet once more.

And after Sam was gone, Dean tried to go back to his research, even though he was pretty much tired of that by now. Honestly, he would be happy to be done with research for the day, he really would, but after that conversation, that familiar feeling of anxiety and uneasiness from before was back with full force, and yet again Dean felt like he couldn't just lay around and do nothing. He knew he should rest, and that was actually what he _wanted_ to do for the rest of the night, but he felt like he needed to occupy his mind again, to try and distract himself and focus on something else other than how close he might be to actually losing Cas. At least he'd had a break now, so that should help him concentrate better.

At least he hoped so, anyway, but he wouldn't let that stop him either way.

That topic stuck with him, though. It weighed down on his thoughts, insistent, and for the longest time, Dean couldn’t quite make his mind shut up about it; couldn't quite push the almost constant echo of Sam's words away. They bounced around inside his head repeatedly, and Dean found that he couldn't actually ignore them. His worry for Cas' well-being grew with every hour that passed, but now he had an idea forming in his head, one that he could not make himself push away.

So it really wasn't a surprise that after the few hours Dean spent forcing himself to focus on research again, he'd made absolutely no progress at all. And even later on as he curled up around Cas to try and sleep for the night, his mind was still plagued by those thoughts.

Again, he knew Cas wouldn't be happy about this, or at least he was pretty sure the angel might still not be totally on board with this idea, but if it became necessary, if it meant saving the lives of both Cas and the baby, then Dean would do it without a thought. They might no longer even have a choice on this, and that thought alone was enough to break Dean's resolve.

“Gabriel, I’m… I don't know where you are, or what you're doing, or why you're taking so long and not answering any prayers, but..." He licked his lips, swallowing drily as the words got stuck in his throat. He turned his head to the side so he could glance at Cas, doing what he'd wished to do earlier and running a hand through the hair on top of the seraph's head in a gentle caress, attempting to ground himself a little, but of course that did not work too well, as the angel had absolutely no response to it. "Cas is not getting better. He’s not… He hasn't woken up yet, and he’s not healing well, and I…” His voice shook and failed, and he took in another breath, still trying to steady himself somehow, but that did very little to help him speak. “I've talked to him about this a few months back, and he didn’t seem very happy with the idea at the time, but I’m hoping he’ll forgive me for this now, so… If you can’t find the ingredients for the spell fast enough, or if you come across an angel out there somehow… I wouldn’t be opposed to getting some more Grace into Cas, it doesn’t matter whom it comes from.”

The words lingered in the air of the darkened room after he was done speaking, swallowed by the heavy, loaded silence that followed. Dean wasn't exactly surprised by the lack of response he got, though. It wasn't like he had expected Gabriel to just appear in the room with some random angel's Grace to give to Cas right then and there, of course not, so Dean really shouldn't have felt so disappointed when absolutely nothing happened, but he couldn't help it. Also, it would be a lie to say that he felt much better after the prayer. This didn't solve anything; Cas' Grace would still be burning out whether or not they gave him some other random angel's Grace, and they would still need to find his original one.

But this would buy them more  _time,_ and that was really the main thing they needed right now.

He snuggled even closer into Cas' side, letting out a shaky breath as he felt a pang of sadness digging into his chest because there wasn't a strong arm wrapped around his waist to hold him close, as instead it laid limp, completely unresponsive on the mattress beside the angel. Every single time he touched Cas now, or even as much as looked at the angel, unconscious and unmoving on that bed, Dean was reminded of just how thin of a thread their lives were all hanging by right now, and the worst part of it was knowing that this was all his own fucking fault. The weight of that guilt was maddening, sharp and painful as it reached into his chest, as though trying to carve out his heart.

"I'm so sorry, Cas," he whispered, nuzzling at the angel's throat. He placed a small, short kiss against the side of the seraph's neck, closing his eyes as he breathed in Cas' scent, hoping it might make him feel better. It didn't. "Why do I just fucking screw up everything?"

Because this really was his fault—every single thing that was going wrong for them now had been caused by Dean. Cas, the baby, Sam and Charlie were all in danger right now because of him, and the weight of that thought alone was truly suffocating.

He'd been the one to take on the Mark of Cain; to bring this deadly, poisonous curse into their lives, which might have been one of the biggest mistakes Dean had ever made. And if he hadn't taken on the Mark, then the Stynes would also not be a problem, because there wouldn't have been a need to look for the Book of the Damned at all in the first place.

Cas had only lost his Grace because of Dean, too. After the whole thing with the Angel Tablet, Dean had pushed Cas away, refused to accept his apologies and to understand the angel's actions, and while Dean still didn't exactly agree with how Cas had dealt with everything, he knew he shouldn't have been so harsh. And that had caused Cas to rely on someone like Metatron to try and redeem himself, to somehow make things right, and because of that, the angel had lost his Grace, a part of the very essence of his being. And not only that, but because he hadn't believed that Dean would want him around as a human, Cas had actually taken another angel's Grace, dooming himself to a limited amount of power that would slowly burn out, and that would probably, at the end of the day, end up killing him.

Heaven would also not be after them if Dean had had the fucking ability to realize how much of a bad idea trying to take on the Stynes back at that convenience store had actually been, because that way the pendant would have never fallen from his neck. If he'd used his fucking head for once, then everything that had followed could have been avoided, but that thoughtless decision to fight had caused Heaven to find out about the nephilim, as well as led to Cas being banished, which might both end up costing Dean, Cas and the baby their lives.

Letting out another breath, Dean leaned away from Cas, propping himself up a bit on the bed by his elbow, one more time taking in the sight of Cas' emotionless face, eyes closed and body completely still. It was such a painful sight to see, and Dean wished with everything he had that he could make this better somehow.

"I'll make this right, Cas," Dean promised, lifting his hand to pick up Cas' limp, motionless hand from where it lay beside the angel on the mattress, intertwining their fingers as best as he could with Cas' hand so unresponsive, then caressing the side of the angel's hand softly with his thumb. "I don't care what I have to do, but I'll fix this." He could already feel the familiar burn of the first few tears forming in his eyes, which was apparently a very common occurence for him now, and Dean was pretty sure he could not actually blame the hormones for that. "You're gonna be fine, okay? You'll wake up, and we'll find your Grace, then we'll take this damn Mark off, and both of you will be fine."

He wished those words didn't sound so empty. He wished there was conviction in them, certainty, but instead his voice trembled with the fear that laced every single one of his thoughts. He wished there was a way for him to actually keep those promises.

But instead, all he could do now was wait and hope that Cas would wake up at all; that there was at least some of the angel's Grace left so that they could save him. Because if there wasn't...

"I never even got to tell you." The words were out before Dean could stop them, but surprisingly, he didn't wish to take them back. No, instead, he actually wished Cas was awake to _hear_ them, which was such a new, unfamiliar feeling that Dean didn't even know how to deal with it, but he didn't let himself pause to dwell on it too much. "Because I'm a fucking coward, that's what I am. I didn't..." 

The first tear slid down his cheek, but Dean didn't bother to wipe it off his skin. Instead, he lifted Cas' hand up to his mouth, kissing the angel's knuckles one by one as he tried to steady himself; tried to actually make his lips form the words he so desperately wished to say right then. He remembered what it had been like to say them to Sam and Charlie, of how fucking good it had felt to finally just let it all out like that, and once more he found himself wishing that those deep, beautiful blue eyes were open and focused on him; that the angel could actually be awake to hear this.

"I love you, Cas," Dean whispered, voice trembling even more now as more tears fell. "I've loved you for a while now, actually, even before... before all of this. And I've had years to tell you this, but I didn't, and now I..." His voice broke, words dying in his throat, and Dean swallowed once, twice, determined to let it all out. "Now I might never get the chance to."

His chest hurt with those words, as though each one of them was a small, sharp dagger being slowly pushed into his heart. The air around them was suffocating, the room suddenly too small, the weight on his shoulders far too heavy, so much that soon Dean found himself sighing as he laid back down against Cas, hoping the closeness and the heat of the angel's body pressed against his would help him; would calm him down somehow, but it did quite the opposite of that.

Dean just didn't get why his life had to be so fucked up. It had always been like this, too—the feeling loss, as well as the fear of losing the people he loved, had just always been there. For as long as he could remember, that was just how things were.

Their family really was cursed, and it had been for decades now. John and Mary had been set up by a bunch of cupids, for fuck's sake, just so Dean and Sam could be born and play the roles of the vessels of the Apocalypse. Then not too long after, Mary had taken Azazel's deal to save John's life, which had pretty much sealed the downfall of whatever normalcy she could have ever hoped them to have as a family.

Fuck, maybe it had started even before that, way back when John had been a kid and Abaddon had caused Henry to flee, traveling through time and abandoning his own son, then never making it back to his own time and dying at the hands of the same Knight who had driven him away from his family. And that had left a mark on John, of course, as he had throughout his entire life resented his father for leaving him as a child, so that had probably influenced John's behavior and mentality to some extent, even all the way into his adult life.

And everything that had come after Dean and Sam had been born had followed the same pattern. Losing Mary when Azazel had come for Sam, John selling his soul to save Dean, Ellen and Jo dying in their failed mission to hunt down Lucifer and stop the Apocalypse, Bobby being killed by the Leviathan, Kevin dying at the hands of Gadreel. Their family had fallen apart over the years, piece by piece, and now they were here, on the run from both Heaven and the Stynes, fighting against the Mark of Cain, running against time to try to find Cas' Grace, struggling to hang on and keep going, with all of their lives once more hanging by nothing more than a single fucking thread.

And their baby, their tiny little baby, who had no fault in anything, who wasn't even _formed_ yet, was being hunted by those winged bastards just because it was _alive_.

It was all just so fucking  _unfair._

"I'm so sorry," Dean whispered, moving his hand to rest on his bump, caressing the skin lightly, soothingly, "I'm sorry that you didn't have a choice in any of this, and that you're stuck with such a... a fucked up family. You deserve so much more than this. I... I wish things were different."

Dean usually tried to push that train of thought away whenever it slipped into his mind, but tonight, he was just too fucking tired for it. He’d done everything, _everything_ he could; had pretty much given up his own life for this world and saved more people than he could possibly count, and yet this was what the Universe had in store for him—having to deal with the possibility of losing both Cas and their child at any moment now, with barely any hope of finding a way to stop it. Instead of worrying about how they would care for the baby, about actually being a parent, all Dean could think about right now was how to keep their baby safe and  _alive;_  all he could do was hope that their child would actually get to be  _born._

Couldn't they just catch a fucking break? Couldn't he just be fucking happy, for once in his life?

And he really meant it—he really wished things were different, that his _life_ was different. Of course, he knew simply thinking about that wouldn't change anything or make anything better in any way, wouldn't actually fix any of their problems at all, but he couldn't help but let his mind wander a bit. It was probably Gabriel’s fault, anyway, because the archangel had been the one to bring the whole other universes subject up when he’d brought Cas here, and that had spiked Dean's curiosity quite a lot.

And he had visited one of those universes before—the one where his life was a fucking TV show—so he knew they really were out there. His name hadn't even been Dean in that one, though, but that dude (what had been his name? Jensen or something, right?) had been some sort of version of Dean in a way, or at least they had looked exactly alike, even if they might have had absolutely nothing else in common. But how many other versions of himself could there be out there?

He couldn't help but wonder if there was any other universe where he was still Dean Winchester, but there had been no Apocalypse at all and Mary had never made that damn deal with Azazel. How would his life had turned out in that scenario? Would they have had a normal life, then? Or would Mary's past as a hunter have caught up to them eventually?

It really was an odd thing to think about, because that was just... unreal, so much that Dean found the concept of it almost hard to process. Of course, maybe it was because of the way he'd been raised, because hunting had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember, but he really couldn't imagine himself being... well, anything else other than a hunter. His failed attempt at the whole white picket fence combo with Lisa and Ben had only proved that—Dean just wasn't fit for any of it, for an actual normal life, and he couldn't see himself doing anything else other than hunting; couldn't picture himself spending year after year working an actual normal job and playing house. That had never been him.

But... for how much longer could that even go on?

Dean let his hand rest on his bump again, slowly brushing his fingers over the skin, gently tracing the shape of it in a light caress. He had no idea what would happen from now on, especially after the baby was born. He didn't want to make the same mistakes his father had made; couldn't even _consider_ ever putting his child through what he and Sam had had to endure under John's care—traveling nonstop while their father jumped from case to case, living in motel rooms and pretty much having to fend for themselves most of the time. But they had the Bunker now, so technically if Dean continued to hunt they had a place to call home, somewhere where his kid could be safe and away from any danger, and have some stability too.

But for some reason, that notion seemed... wrong to him, as he realized that he wasn't entirely happy with that train of thought. The idea of leaving his baby behind with either Cas or Sam while he hunted, while he went out there and risked his own life, sounded almost painful. Even if Dean had been the one to reassure Sam when they had been young, repeating to his worried little brother over and over again that their father knew what he was doing and that he would always come back, that he was the best hunter out there and that there was no reason to worry about him, there had always been a hint of fear in his mind that something might go wrong, and that someday John might not make it back to them, even though Dean had never actually voiced those fears. And that just wasn't something Dean thought he could ever put his own kid through. He didn't want to risk them losing a parent. But what else could he do? Just... stop hunting?

Neither option sounded good enough for him.

Also, could they even baby-proof the Bunker? There were just so many dangerous rooms in that place, filled with ancient and cursed artifacts, as well as actual _swords_  and other weapons on display on some walls, including the library and Dean's freaking room. Fuck, every now and then one of them would still come across some warded box or safe they hadn't known about with some new cursed object guarded inside, so there had to be more potentionally dangerous stuff hidden in that place that they hadn't even found yet.

So would that even be safe at all? Could he and Cas actually raise a child in the Bunker?

Letting out a breath, Dean pushed those thoughts away for now. It was too early to be thinking about all that, but he knew he would have to come back to that subject sometime down the road, discuss it with Cas so they could figure some things out together. He had no idea what they would do; couldn't even imagine how any of that would go, but it would be pointless to stress over that right now, especially when he had so much to worry about already.

However, as he glanced at Cas again, a curious thought occurred to Dean. He had never wished to get caught up in the whole Apocalypse thing the way he had, nor had he wished to go to Hell, but if he could go back and somehow make things different, erase all those things from his past... he wouldn't. Because if there was anything,  _anything_ good to come out of all the crap that he'd gone through over the years, anything that made it all worth it, it was  _this._ If it wasn't for the whole Apocalypse prophecy or whatever, if fate hadn't decided to fucking screw Dean and Sam over before they were even born, then Cas would have never rescued Dean from Hell, so he and Cas would have never even met, much less actually have what they had now, and their baby wouldn't even exist. Dean was only pregnant right now  _because_ of everything that had happened up until now, including the bad stuff, so at the end of the day, Dean realized he didn't exactly wish for everything to have happened differently.

No, he just wished their current situation was different.

But again, thinking about all that would change nothing. With another sigh, Dean adjusted himself a little better against Cas, trying to rid himself of all those thoughts to try and get some rest, but he didn't quite manage it. That train of thought had led his mind to wander in a direction it hadn’t gone in for a few years now, and honestly, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought about this sooner. Surprisingly, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd thought about this.

What would his parents think of him if they saw him now?

Dean used to think about that pretty often a few years back. When Sam's psychic powers had started to make themselves more and more present, when Dean had sold his soul for his brother, when he hadn’t been able to stop Sam from getting involved with Ruby and hooked on demon blood, or even during the whole Apocalypse mess. Way too often, Dean would spend countless hours staring up at the ceiling at night, just wondering what his father would say about everything that was happening, or even his mother, too, after he'd found out that she'd been a hunter as well. Dean had actually spent far too many hours wondering how disappointed John would be of him for not being able to follow the orders that his father had given him back at that hospital; that he hadn't been able to save Sam.

But... how differently would things have played out if John had been alive after that? If Dean hadn't slipped into that coma and his father had never needed to sell his soul to save him?

Would Dean still have gone to Hell? Would the Apocalypse have been averted the way it had? Just how differently would everything else have gone? How would they have dealt with Sam's lack of soul, the Leviathan or Purgatory? Would all that stuff even have happened? Would Dean still have taken on the Mark of Cain, or would they have found another way to deal with Abaddon?

And most importantly, would he and Cas be in the same situation they were in right now? Dean doubted it, honestly. One of the things he remembered very clearly, even after all the years John had been gone by now, was the feeling of obedience Dean used to feel around his father, how it had pretty much gone against every single instinct in his body not to follow an order from John. Dean's blind trust on the man had been too strong, irrational even, he knew that now, and he wondered if he would ever have been able to break free from it had John not died years ago.

And if John had been around during the past few years, Dean would have never dared to experiment like he had, so he would never have come to terms with himself about his sexuality. He would have never actually accepted that it was okay for him to be attracted to men as well, because John didn’t agree with it; because his father had so vehemently made his opinion about that particular subject very clear to Dean years and years ago.

So Dean would most likely never have accepted his attraction to Cas, and therefore he would never, ever have done anything about it.

If John saw him now, though, Dean was pretty sure his father's reaction would be much worse than the small fit he’d thrown that night in Georgia. The screaming and yelling had happened because Dean had simply inquired about what it would be like to ask out a boy, because he had simply _considered_ the idea of it.

But now, Dean was in a relationship with an angel occupying a male vessel, their souls were bonded and he was currently carrying their forbidden hybrid child.

Yeah, John would probably have a stroke, Dean was pretty sure.

It really was a good thing that Cas and John would never meet, because _that_ would be completely disastrous.

And don't get him wrong, Dean loved his father, of course he did, he just... he really did regret having put up with as much as he had from John. Now Dean wished he would have stood up for himself more; that he'd been able to see how every single thing his father had said, how every single order John had barked out might not have been the right or best way to do things. He wished he'd questioned more, that he'd been more like Sam when he'd been younger.

Mary was a bit of a blank card with Dean, though. She had been a hunter, and by default she was probably bound to be wary about anything supernatural, even an angel. Plus, she had died over thirty years ago, at a time when the relative openness and acceptance that there was today toward any sort of sexual diversity hadn’t really been a thing, so she might be a little narrow-minded on that regard. And the truth was, Dean didn't even  _know_ her; he had only actually met her twice in his adulthood, in the couple of times he'd been sent back in time (Djinn world and Heaven memories aside), so really, he had no freaking idea how Mary would have possibly reacted to something like this.

Dean couldn’t help but think of Bobby as well. He wondered if Bobby had also seen it coming beforehand; if he'd somehow noticed whatever signs Charlie had claimed to have seen between him and Cas, or if the older hunter had been just as oblivious to him and Cas as Sam had been. Dean had no idea, and he couldn’t really tell what Bobby’s reaction to him and Cas might have been, much less to the baby. Dean realized then that he didn't even know exactly where Bobby stood on the whole diverse sexualities subject at all, because of course they'd never even talked about it, though unlike John, Bobby had never shown any signs of being averse or hateful toward the matter in any way, so that already meant a lot. Still, Dean had no idea what his reaction would have turned out to be.

For just a brief moment, though, Dean pushed all those thought aside, forgot about all the doubts concerning what John, Mary and Bobby’s reaction to him and Cas could have ever turned out to be, and instead focused on pang of sadness he felt stabbing at his chest at the realization that none of his parents would ever get to know their grandchild.

And Dean really hadn’t expected that thought to hurt so much.

With a groan, Dean closed his eyes shut, hastily trying to push all those thoughts away. Again, they would not help in any way; would not make anything better. If anything, they would only make him even more frustrated than he already was, and that was probably something he should avoid at the moment. He didn't even know why that particular subject was getting to him so strongly now, but he knew getting worked up or upset about any of that would do the opposite of helping Cas and the baby, so he should put a stop to it now and try to rest.

That was a lot easier said than done, though. Dean reajusted himself on the bed a few times, huffing annoyedly to himself every few minutes as sleep refused to come. At some point, he grabbed Cas' hand to rest it on his bump, just as he'd done yesterday, hoping it would soothe him or at least make him feel better; that it would calm him enough so that he could actually fall asleep. It worked, fortunately, but still took a while, a lot longer than Dean would have been happy with, but eventually his exhaustion seemed to catch up with him, and finally he slipped into what he already knew would be nothing more than a few hours of a dreamless, restless sleep.

***~*~*~*~***

Dean hadn’t been here in a while.

He was standing on a pier, the same one he used to dream of weirdly often a handful of years back. The first time the image had appeared in his mind had been when Cas had come to him in a dream to give him a message, years and years ago, before the Apocalypse had even started, around the time Cas had been taken back to Heaven for obedience school, leaving behind an empty vessel in the form of a very annoyed Jimmy Novak for them to look after. Dean was pretty sure that Cas had actually been the one to give him this image in the first place; to add it into Dean’s mind that night, as the hunter had never seen it before, nor would his mind be able simply conjure up something of this sort. Many times Dean had wondered if it was a memory, a place the angel had been to at some point, though he’d never asked him about it.

And after that dream, as brief as it had been, the scenery had just… stuck with him somehow. It was a calm place, soothing, a peaceful change from what his dreams normally featured. It felt more real, more vivid than most of his dreams, too, the breeze washing over him, brushing against the skin of his face actually pleasant, the sight of the lake water glistening under the sunlight almost hypnotic.

He realized then that he’d never thanked Cas for it.

This time it was a bit different, though. For one, his chair, the one he’d usually spent all his time sitting on in his dreams, was empty by his side, and he was actually standing beside it. The fishing rod he always used had been carelessly tossed to the side at some point, and now it rested untouched against the wooden planks a few steps away, dangerously close to the edge of the pier.

The lake water looked… darker, somehow, having for some reason lost its usual crystal clear appearance this time. It didn’t glister as much as it should under the late afternoon sun, and the trees around it were less vibrant, missing leaves on most of their branches. There were also clouds in the sky, which was a bit unusual, as normally all Dean could see above his head was the clear sky, painted in different shades of yellow, orange and red by the setting sun.

It felt… wrong.

“I kind of get it.”

Dean’s head snapped around at the sound of a familiar voice reaching his ears without a warning. He jumped a little, startled, although maybe he shouldn’t be as surprised as he was once he realized who was standing just a few steps behind him. It had been a while since the last time he’d seen her; he’d almost forgotten about her, actually, with everything that had been happening lately, but the truth was that he hadn’t really had much of a reason to think about her again until now. He still had no idea who she was, or how she seemed to be appearing inside his head like this. He still didn’t even know if she was actually real, but he was still betting on her being nothing more than a sick, weird creation from the Mark to mess with his head. It would make sense, honestly.

She looked exactly the same as the last time Dean had seen here, too, as though she'd been frozen in time since then; as if she'd just been here, in this peaceful, soothing place, simply waiting for the next opportunity she would find to appear in his head, watching as time lazily rolled by.

The fact that he still hadn’t told Cas about her at all continued to weigh heavily on his shoulders.

“Amara,” the name fell from Dean’s lips without a thought, and his voice echoed loudly in the air around them. It felt weird to speak here, for some reason, like he was doing something wrong; like this wasn't allowed, but he had no idea why. It had never felt like this.

Amara smiled, as though pleased that he’d remembered her name, and for some reason the sight of it only made Dean feel even more uneasy. There was this weird… energy around her that had every single cell in Dean’s body telling him to be careful, to think about every move he made, to consider every word that left his mouth, and he didn’t quite understand what it meant, what kind of instinct this was or where it even came from. It wasn’t quite what his hunter’s instinct felt like; he didn’t feel the urge to calculate how to kill this woman, to figure out what she was.

All his body wanted him to do was _run._

She didn’t offer him any sort of response, though. Her eyes simply moved away from him, sweeping over the lake, taking in the sight of the trees around them, as though drinking it all in. The breeze still brushed by then, causing her wavy brown hair to move slightly with it, swaying just barely around her head. She closed her eyes, visibly taking in a deep, slow breath.

“All I have seen from this place has come from… memories, or from a few peeks through eyes that don't belong to me—Lucifer, Cain, and now you, Dean, sometimes even Castiel.” She opened her eyes again, slowly turning her head to fixate them on Dean’s face. There was suddenly something different about her gaze, though; it was heavier somehow, darker, and Dean wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He had no freaking idea what any of this meant. “And if any of what reaches me is even close to reality, I can see why… why he wanted this.”

Dean swallowed, somehow managing to hold her gaze, as hard as that was. Everything in him was telling him to look away. “Who?” he asked, forcing the word out of his mouth.

Another smile formed on her lips, but this time it was smaller, shier, not a sign of happiness at all. Her gaze still looked heavy, but it shifted again and Dean had no idea how to understand what he was seeing. There was suddenly a hint of something else in her eyes; something so close to sadness that he wasn’t sure how to process the change. “You value your family above anything else, don’t you, Dean?”

She looked away again, not even waiting for an answer, and Dean wasn’t sure if he should give her one at all.

Apparently she hadn't been waiting for one in the first place.

“Your brother, whom you have died for before, whom you value above your own life; your own _soul,_ the very… essence of who you are and why you even exist, as I understand.”

That was a very odd choice of words, and they rang a very wrong note in Dean's ears, but of course he didn’t comment on it; didn’t question what she could possibly have meant by that, as curious as he was.

She turned back to Dean then, eyes examining him for a moment, and once more he felt his skin crawling with the urge to just fucking bolt right out of this place.

He took a step back and away from her without thinking.

She had no reaction to it.

“Your… angel, Castiel, whom you’d also die for without a thought. You care about him more than you ever meant to allow, and now you’re scared to tell him how much he means to you. You fear to scare him away, because you know losing him now would cripple you.”

Dean swallowed again. The words he would need to ask her how the hell she knew all that rose to his throat, but he swallowed them back. He was pretty sure they were in his head right now, so that pretty much explained where she'd gotten all that from, at least. If this really was nothing more than some sort of illusion or mind trick created by the Mark, then of course the thing would use thoughts and memories he kept buried deep in his mind, hidden away from anyone but himself, to try and break him. It would be the easiest way, after all, and of course the damn thing knew that.

“The child you’re carrying right now.”

Another step back. Dean’s hand twitched, but he refrained from lifting it to his stomach and resting it protectively over his bump. This wasn’t even real, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to do that. They were in his head, and his baby was safe in his womb back in the real world, far, far away from here. Nothing that happened in this place could actually harm the nephilim.

Right?

“You love it already, and you’re scared to lose it. The fear of that is within you, clinging to your every thought, present in every second of every day, and constantly you curse yourself for ever taking on the… Mark of Cain, as I understand it is called now, although it never actually belonged to Cain in any way.” And that was yet another very odd comment that Dean decided to ignore and simply brush off, as intrigued as he was about it. “The blame of the danger you are putting your own child through weighs heavily on your shoulders, plaguing your every thought. I can see it.”

Dean swallowed drily, almost startled by just how true and accurate those words were, and once again he reminded himself that this was just the Mark playing with his head again. This wasn’t real. He simply shouldn’t let it get to him, that was all. Just brush it off.

But why did that not feel like enough? Why did this feel like... more, somehow? What if...?

Amara tilted her head to the side just a little, once more looking like she was trying to read him, examining him somehow, and illusion or not, it still had Dean shifting uncomfortably, wishing that he could just fucking wake up and be free from this place.

Unless… unless he was stuck in here. Unless he was once more trapped in a sick, twisted illusion the Mark had created for him. Dean felt his stomach sink at the thought, heart skipping a beat in his chest as he realized with dread that maybe this was the Mark lashing out, taking advantage of Cas’ weakened state. Maybe the fact that the Mark had been so oddly active and yet so easy to ignore after Cas had been banished actually meant that the thing had been recharging, just waiting for the right moment to strike, like a poisonous snake, or a lone tiger patiently stalking its prey.

The single thought of it was enough to fill Dean with dread.

“But that’s not all,” Amara continued, either completely oblivious to Dean’s internal struggle or simply choosing to ignore it, he couldn’t know. She tilted her head to the side even more, her eyes still glued to his face, gaze sharp and measuring as she eyed him. Once more all Dean wanted to do was just fucking take off running and not look back, as pointless as that would be. He couldn’t get away from something that was literally inside his head, he was very much aware of that, so he refrained. “You’re scared of what this child will be. A hybrid, a forbidden creature you’ve never seen before, perhaps even a monster—the very thing you’ve spent your entire life attempting to rid this world of.”

Dean was tired of this game.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dean asked, not wanting to hear any more of that woman's apparently endless commentary, but only a moment later he caught himself wondering if he really should be snapping at something that had him feeling so uneasy in his own skin, something that had such an intense desire to flee pooling into his body and flooding his insides like a tidal wave, but then again, this wasn’t real, so what harm could it do? He couldn't help it; those words had gotten to him, even if he’d tried his best not to let that happen—they were based on thoughts he'd been doing his best to ignore, but that still plagued his mind, haunted his conscience almost constantly at this point, and the last thing he needed was to have it all thrown at his face by another one of the Mark’s fucking illusions. “What’s the point of all this? I’m tired of this damn Mark playing with my head, so if you could just fucking leave me alone, then I—”

“You think this is not real,” Amara mused, and Dean was a bit taken aback by tone that suddenly took over the woman’s voice. She sounded almost surprised, intrigued even, and although part of Dean wanted to believe there was nothing genuine about that reaction, it was very unsettling still. “You believe this to be… an illusion, or a trick, as I understand.”

Dean simply nodded in agreement, carefully taking in her reaction and failing to understand it.

Amara didn’t respond. She didn’t seem offended or irritated; she actually looked amused. She was back to staring now, head tilting to the side once more as she carefully regarded him, as though he was a puzzle she was trying very hard to piece together but couldn’t quite figure out how to do it. It was very unnerving, especially when she stepped forward, though somehow Dean managed to hold his ground and not move away again, reminding himself that there was no real danger here. They were in his head, after all. No need to actually try to get away from her.

“You’re a very peculiar being, Dean Winchester, admirable even.” Her eyes lowered, falling down to his feet and then slowly moving back up to his face, as though measuring him. Dean didn't think he'd ever felt so uncomfortable under someone's gaze as he did then. “It actually makes me envy Castiel.”

Even more now, Dean was tempted to take another step back, skin crawling yet again as he wished to just get the fuck away from those eyes, which remained focused on him even after she'd spoken, but once more he refrained. He did shift uncomfortably on his own feet, though, balancing his weight from one leg to the other, incredibly bothered under her gaze. Why couldn’t he just fucking wake up and get out of this fucking nightmare?

“But above all, you’re loyal," Amara continued, as apparently she wasn't done with her speech. "Your family is the most important thing in your life, and you would do anything for them, no matter what that might be, or even what it might cost you. You would never, ever betray them.” She looked away again, once again letting her eyes take in the sight of the lake, and all of a sudden she looked distracted, like her mind had suddenly traveled far, far away from there. She let out a small breath, like a tired sigh, which was a little confusing. “That’s very hard to find, it seems.”

She fell silent after that, and all Dean could do during the minute the followed was watch her, trying to figure out what the hell she was about to do, or why he was even here. This whole thing was confusing and extremely odd, but in truth, this didn’t feel like one of the Mark’s illusions. This was in no way torturing or maddening, simply unsettling and uncomfortable, and he wondered what the hell that meant. Why would the Mark suddenly change tactics? What even was the purpose of this?

But... what if this wasn't the Mark's doing? What if this was... something else?

He wasn’t even sure what he was looking at here. He had no idea what or who this woman was, because the name Amara really meant absolutely nothing to him. However, for some reason, suddenly he found himself questioning if any of this was actually real. She had implied that she was, of course, with how amused and intrigued she'd seemed by the thought that he believed this whole thing to not be real, but even if she was an illusion, obviously the Mark would play that card as well; would probably make her have that exact same reaction to throw him off somehow.

So in the end, either this was yet another one of the Mark’s mind games, or this was real and there was some… creature that could easily get into his head whenever she felt like it, which honestly was pretty terrifying.

Dean had no idea what to believe here.

“You’re confused,” She spoke again without even looking at him, eyes still intently focused on the distance—on the lake, the trees, the mountains in the horizon; Dean had no idea what she had caught her attention this time, but she didn’t seem willing to tear her gaze away from it just yet. “That’s understandable. Do not worry, it will all make sense soon, Dean.” She turned to look at him again, and now her eyes looked almost feral, a strong conviction suddenly taking over her gaze, an odd glint bleeding into her eyes, which caused a shiver to run down his spine, making Dean tense up even more, waiting for a blow somehow, but it never came. “Perhaps a lot sooner than you think.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Another amused smile touched Amara’s lips. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait for an answer, Dean. Right now, you have an angel to care for.” She lifted her hand, moving it quickly through the air before her, as if dismissing him, waving him away.

And then Dean was sitting up, gasping for air as he frantically looked around, attempting to take in his surroundings. He was disoriented for a moment, completely thrown off by the sudden change of scenery around him, until finally it registered in his mind that he was now awake and back in the bedroom where he had fallen asleep earlier, safely hidden away in the cabin in Vancouver, with no creepy, imaginary woman in sight. He was still frozen for a moment, though, as his head was spinning with questions, mind still feeling a bit detached, thoughts racing as he struggled to process what had just happened. For a moment, it felt like this wasn’t quite happening to him right then, like nothing around him was actually real and he still stuck inside his own head, trapped in an illusion.

But that feeling quickly faded away once he noticed that Cas was coughing beside him.

Dean rolled over on the bed as soon as he realized that Cas was actually awake. His hand cut through the air as he turned his body to the side, reaching out for the light switch beside the bed so he could turn on the lights, then blinking away the sting in his eyes brought on by the sudden brightness in the room as he turned back around to face Cas. His eyes still took a moment to adjust, but when they finally did, Dean quickly moved his hand to rest it on Cas’ chest, pushing the angel back down onto the mattress once he noticed the seraph was trying to lift himself from the bed.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered as he continued to press down against the angel's front, not allowing him to actually sit up. Cas fought him a little, though, and Dean ended up simply wounding his other arm around Cas' back to at least try to support him as the angel insisted on lifting his body from the mattress. “Cas, take it easy. You…” He had been about to say, ‘You almost died,’ but he quickly realized that they were still dancing dangerously close that line, so he let the words die on his tongue.

Fortunately, because of Dean's efforts to try and stop him from moving, Cas settled against the headboard instead of actually sitting up. Dean could actually feel the uneven rumble coming from the angel’s chest echoing against his palm as Cas' coughs continued to just rip out of the seraph's throat, one after the other, filling the air without pause. They were loud, ugly, like his airways weren’t clean, much like what had happened when Gabriel had first brought him here.

Cas' eyes were wide, confused, actually begging and scared, and the sight seemed to break something inside of Dean. One of Cas’ hands rose a bit it in the air, but the angel just left it there, frozen and limp, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, or like he couldn’t find the strength to do anything more than that. Maybe he was trying to reach out for something but couldn't quite make his vision focus on it properly, Dean honestly couldn't tell. But regardless of what Cas' intention had been, the hunter hurried to grab the angel's hand, squeezing it soothingly.

“Hey, shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here.” He was awake. _Cas was awake._ Those words kept echoing inside Dean’s head on a loop, and although Cas had clearly not recovered yet, Dean still felt a wave of relief washing over him, because the fact that the angel had regained consciousness at all had to mean something, right? Cas had healed enough to wake up, as slow as his recovery was being, and that had to be a good sign. It just had to be.

Cas wheezed a little, a small cough jumping from his throat as he croaked out, “Dean… I—I don’t…”

“Shhh, don’t try to speak,” Dean whispered, letting his other hand find its way under the angel’s chin, moving his thumb to caress Cas’ cheek, feeling the stubble growing there brush lightly against his skin. The feeling soothed him more than Dean had expected it to. “Don’t strain yourself. You’re still way too weak.”

Another ugly string of coughs escaped Cas, this one even more violent, so much that the angel’s entire body seemed to shake with it, making him even more breathless than before.

Dean winced as he watched the scene unfold, and briefly he wondered how Sam and Charlie hadn't come bursting through the door yet, but it _was_ the middle of the night, so the two were probably asleep right now. "I can go get some water, if you want,” he offered once the coughing subsided a little, but Cas simply shook his head, still panting, clearly struggling to catch his breath. His hand gripped Dean’s arm even more tightly, the look in his eyes growing even more pleading, desperate, like he was terrified to let Dean go.

“No,” the angel wheezed once he actually managed to speak again, shaking his head frantically, eyes even wider than they had been before, “Don’t… Don’t go…”

“Okay,” Dean breathed out, nodding lightly, squeezing Cas’ hand once more to try and soothe the seraph somehow. He could feel the angel’s agitation through the bond, and while the realization that he could feel anything at all coming from the connection should have been a relief, as the bond felt so much stronger now that Cas was awake, the hunter didn't let himself focus on that too much. He couldn't even tell what exactly he could feel coming from the bond right then. The amount of information he was receiving from the connection was almost overwhelming, but the one emotion that stood out the most and that the human could easily identify was fear, which was definitely not something Dean wanted Cas to be feeling. So before anything else, he knew he had to get Cas to calm down somehow, and that was all he should be focusing on right now. “I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here.” He leaned even closer to Cas, pulling the angel forward, and the seraph didn’t resist at all; he simply let himself be carefully maneuvered as the hunter pulled him close so he could lie back down, though this time pressed against the hunter, with his head resting on the human's chest.

Dean pressed a kiss to the side of the angel’s head once he was settled against the hunter, hating how he could feel Cas’ irregular, struggled breathing even more easily now that they were literally pressed against each other, as well as just how rapidly the angel's heart was beating. It all made Dean swallow drily, feeling his chest tighter with worry, with the weight of the notion that he had no way to make this better. But even as the fear of what Cas' state could possibly mean rose to his throat and made it about a thousand times harder for him to let out any words, somehow Dean still managed to whisper, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here.”

Cas clung to him for dear life still, no matter how many times Dean repeated those words, as if he didn’t quite believe the hunter; as though somehow he feared the human might actually just disappear right then and there if the angel didn’t hold on to him firmly enough. Dean didn’t complain about it, though; he simply gave Cas what he needed, hoping their closeness would provide enough comfort for the angel to actually calm down, at least a little bit. He needed to get both Cas' heart and breathing to slow down somehow, but he had no other way to do that apart from doing whatever he could to try and soothe the angel; to show Cas that he wasn't going anywhere and that they were safe.

And for a long time, that was all that happened. Dean simply held Cas, whispering to him over and over again that he wasn't going anywhere, reminding the angel that he was there and that Cas was safe as he felt the seraph wheeze and cough against his chest, struggling to do something as simple as breathe, as if fighting not to drown, and it pained the hunter so much to see it. He felt completely helpless, useless as he just sat there and watched Cas suffer, but what else could he do other than simply staying here, holding Cas as close as he could while the angel needed him? Just like the seraph himself had asked him to? Like Gabriel had said should help him?

Eventually the sound of Cas’ breathing became clearer and his coughing subsided completely, and at that point, Dean began running his fingers through the angel’s hair as he listened to the seraph’s still a little too heavy breathing, hoping it would help soothe him even more. Cas leaned into the touch, turning his head to tuck it under the human’s chin, and Dean felt the angel breathing in a little deeper quite a few times, as well as the eventual light brush of lips against the skin of his neck, and he let the feeling calm him a little, ground him.

Cas was awake, and alive. He wasn’t fine by any means, but he was here.

Dean repeated those thoughts inside his head like a mantra, hanging on to them so he could keep the last thin, fragile thread of sanity he still had.

Eventually Dean found himself pressing his hand (the one that wasn't holding Cas') against the angel’s forehead, feeling the skin under his palm still a lot warmer than he would have been happy with. “You still have a fever,” he announced, keeping his voice low and gentle, nothing more than a calm whisper, afraid to speak any louder and spook the angel, “What are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

He actually felt Cas swallow, and the pause that followed gave Dean a very, very bad feeling.

“My Grace,” Cas whispered against his skin, voice hoarse and a lot weaker than the hunter had expected to hear it, and Dean wondered if all the coughing had hurt the angel's throat somehow. It surely sounded like it, as his voice broke in every single word he said, and it sounded like speaking was taking a lot of effort from him. “It’s… I don’t think I…” His voice wavered, actually failing at the end, and he coughed lightly a few times, as if the words had actually gotten caught in his throat on the way out.

Dean swallowed drily, because it was one thing to have Gabriel say that Cas' Grace was too weak, but hearing it from Cas himself, who up until now had basically outright refused to tell Dean just how dangerously low his Grace truly was, was enough to set a suffocatingly heavy weight over the human’s heart.

“I—I… I can’t…” Cas tried to speak again, even though clearly that wasn’t a good idea.

“Shhhh,” Dean hurried to stop him this time, though, kissing the side of Cas' head again, tightening his arms around the angel and letting his thumb brush softly against the skin of Cas' hand, "It's okay, Cas. It's okay."

The angel didn’t seem quite willing to let go of him just yet, not even for a second leaning away from Dean’s throat, but as the minutes passed, he did seem to grow a lot calmer—at some point, his breathing was no longer ragged and his heart didn't feel like it was about to jump right out of the angel's chest anymore, so at least that was something.

Silence lingered between them for a pause, but eventually Dean was the one to break it.

"We… We gave Gabriel the spell,” the human offered quietly, voice low and tentative, lacking the conviction and hope he had initially wished to convey as he spoke. “The feathers spell, I mean. He took off to gather everything. He also thinks it should work.” Dean thought it better not to give Cas the rundown of all the things Gabriel had mentioned could go wrong with their plan right now, so he just left it at that.

But of course Cas could smell Dean’s bluff right away. Maybe he heard it in Dean's voice, perhaps even caught a glimpse of something through the bond, or maybe Gabriel had already talked to him about this before, Dean didn’t know. All he knew was that a tense, long beat passed, during which Dean could almost actually feel Cas’ disbelief as he thought those words over, as he seemed to consider them thoroughly, as though trying to decide whether or not he should really believe them, until finally the angel weakly inquired in quiet, hushed whisper, “Did he actually say that?” The words still sounded strained, but at least the angel managed to let out a full sentence at once. That was a good sign, right?

“Cas…” Dean's voice wavered a bit, and of course he knew the angel would understand that minute shake precisely for what it truly was—uncertainty and fear. Even though he couldn't see Cas' face, he already knew exactly what the angel was thinking; could almost feel the lack of conviction Cas already had toward whatever Dean was about to tell him.

But this wasn’t the time for that conversation. Cas still wasn’t at 100%, and frankly, Dean doubted that would happen anytime soon, so stressing the angel out in any way with the words Gabriel had said earlier about the spell; planting the seed of doubt that had insistently lodged itself in Dean’s mind and had been growing more and more with every hour that passed without another beep from the archangel was definitely not something he should do. That was the last thing Cas needed right now.

“He said the spell should work, and that even if your Grace is warded, that it will give us a… general area, at least. And from then on, once we at least know in which direction to go, then Juliet would be able to sniff it out.”

Dean gestured over to the side of the room where Juliet still lay as he said the last part. The hellhound lifted her head at the sound of her name, curious eyes watching the scene in silence, but she didn’t try to get closer. Cas followed the gesture with his eyes, frowning lightly in confusion once he spotted the hellhound, and in a second Dean felt him tense up in his arms, clearly startled to see her there.

“It’s okay, Cas, she’s…” Dean caught himself before he could say harmless, because that wasn’t a good way to describe her at all. A hellhound was far from harmless, no matter how docile she might be towards them, and he knew that too well, especially after seeing her tear out one of the Stynes' throat with his own eyes. So instead, he settled for, “Friendly, I guess. Crowley left her here to... keep us safe, or something. You know, like a guard dog. But she's very docile with us.”

Dean could very easily feel how tense Cas still was in his arms, clearly disbelieving of everything he'd just heard, which was to be expected, really. Just like Sam and Charlie, all Cas had seen from Juliet up until now had been her performance back at the Stynes’ house, and that was definitely not something that could possibly soothe anyone’s mind.

Dean almost wanted to pat the bed and call Juliet over to show Cas how docile she really was, but he didn’t, deciding that could wait a while. The last thing he wanted to do right now was stress Cas out even further, so he refrained from calling the hellhound closer for now, and fortunately Juliet didn’t try to approach them either, even if she did seem to have noticed their attention had been focused on her for a moment there.

So instead, the human let the silence linger, and fortunately Cas didn't insist on the subject. The angel didn't relax in his hold, though, and he would often glance over at Juliet, as though to check that she hadn't moved, but Dean wouldn't comment on it. Instead, he simply held the angel in silence, hoping that the closeness and calmness that the hunter was doing his best to convey would somehow make the angel feel better and stop worrying about her so much.

It took a while for either of them to speak again.

"We're... we're in Vancouver?" Cas questioned quietly, voice still very much hoarse and low, far weaker than Dean would have liked to hear it, but once again the hunter chose to focus on the relief brought on by fact that Cas was awake and speaking at all instead of worrying about what this meant right now.

It took a beat for Dean to understand why Cas was asking that question; why he sounded so unsure about where they were, until finally he remember Sam's comment when Gabriel had been here.

Right, Cas hadn't come to Vancouver. Sam and Charlie had been the ones to place the wards in this cabin, so of course the angel wouldn't recognize the room, since he'd never even been here. "Yeah," Dean whispered back, "In the warded cabin. After you were..." Dean paused for a second, not quite managing to finish that. He swallowed drily at the words that went unspoken, but fortunately Cas didn't comment on it. "After everything happened," he said instead, "Crowley brought the others here. We're... we're all safe in here, at least for now."

Cas shifted a little so he could curl up even closer to Dean, but he said nothing in response for a while. The silence that followed told Dean very clearly that his answer might not have been enough to send any worries that might still be plaguing the angel's mind away, and the hunter kissed the side of Cas' head once again, lettting one of his hands move to caress the skin of the seraph's arm, rubbing softly at the skin.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean wasn't sure what to make of the words at first; couldn't be sure what exactly the angel could be apologizing for, so he whispered, "About what?"

"I... I did not have a choice," the angel continued, and Dean was honestly surprised by the strain he could hear in his voice. He couldn't be sure if it was caused by Cas' throat hurting, or if the angel was simply struggling with his words. "When you were taken, there was no way to keep... to try and rescue you without telling them exactly what was happening. I couldn't possibly have..." He swallowed thickly, shaking his head weakly, "I know you wished to tell Sam and Charlie about the baby, and I wish you could have had the chance to do that, but... I had to tell them."

"I know, Cas," Dean whispered, keeping his voice as gentle and calm as he could, "I get it, I really do. Seriously, it's okay, we... we talked and everything. It's fine. I'm... I'm glad they know now." Cas didn't give him any response to that, which led Dean to believe he was still not completely convinced, so the hunter somehow managed to smile softly as he joked, "They've been babying me almost as much as you, by the way."

The reaction that comment got from Cas wasn't exactly what Dean had expected. The angel didn't seem amused, though Dean couldn't really see his face in their current position, so he had no way to try and read the angel's expression to gauge his reaction a bit better. However, the silence that followed was oddly heavy, and Dean wondered what had caused the sudden shift he could sense in the air around them, or why Dean had a feeling that comment had not been right thing to say right now.

That was, until finally the angel asked, "How long was I gone for?"

Dean swallowed, letting out a slow breath as he considered his answer carefully. He had been expecting that question, of course, but the human still found himself pausing, trying to think of the best way to break everything that had happened after the angel had been banished to Cas; trying to find a choice of words that would not stress Cas out even more. He honestly couldn't think of any.

Pressing a gentle, soothing kiss to the top of the angel's head, the human replied, "About two days. I was out for a few hours, too."

Dean felt Cas tense up even more in his arms at those words. “What happened?”

It would have been hard to miss the change that happened in Cas’ voice as he asked the question, how tentative his tone had suddenly become, almost like he was afraid of what he would hear, and Dean knew exactly why that shift had happened. He had also seen that question coming, of course, as there was just no way the angel wouldn’t ask for a more detailed explanation, but that didn’t mean the hunter was any readier to answer it; to relive those moments again, even if only in his head. He was pretty sure he never would be.

So Dean took another beat to respond, kissing the side of Cas’ head lightly a few times, and the angel simply waited in silence. He didn’t push or hurry Dean in any way, even if the human knew for a fact that he wanted to, as if the angel could already sense this was not an easy subject for the human somehow, and instead he let the pause stretch on, letting Dean be the one to break it eventually.

“I felt it when… when it happened,” Dean finally said, voice low and weak, words dragging on his tongue as he pushed them out of his mouth. “Just… all of a sudden, I felt this… pain, and I had no idea what had happened to you, I just knew it was bad.”

He felt Cas clinging to him more tightly at those words, and Dean lifted one of his hands to once again softly brush it over the skin of angel’s arm, kissing his head a couple more times, but Cas didn’t relax back into his hold as the hunter had hoped he would.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas whispered, “I shouldn’t have… That was a risk I should not have taken, and I ended up hurting you because of my blind rage.”

The silence that followed was heavy, loaded, and Dean felt the weight of the words he had yet to say placed over his chest. Cas wasn’t asking for more; he didn’t know what had happened, and maybe telling the angel about it right now would do the opposite of helping, because Dean knew his reaction would not be good; that it might get Cas worked up and worried, which was something that should be avoided right now, but he knew he had to say it. Cas deserved to know.

“It wasn’t just… that, though. I mean, it hurt when you got banished, but… that wasn’t all that happened.”

Cas grew even tenser at those words, and the next thing Dean knew was that the angel was trying to sit up again, slowly leaning away from Dean, probably so he could stare at the hunter, look at him in the eyes to try and read whatever might be written on his face. Dean tried to stop him from moving, because he could feel how weak the angel’s was; could actually see his balance waver as the seraph planted a hand on the matress beside him for support and tried to sit up by himself, but Cas was insistent and Dean found that there was nothing he could do, so instead he simply did his best to try and steady the angel somehow as Cas sat up and turned his body enough so that he was pretty much facing Dean on the bed.

The look in Cas’ eyes wasn’t at all surprising—heavy and inquiring, with a clear hint of worry as he stared at Dean, as though trying to figure out what had happened just by looking at the human, and briefly Dean wondered if Cas was probing at the bond. The connection felt a little stronger than before, which was a relief, but it still felt odd, not quite as clear as it had been before this whole thing, so Dean he wasn't sure if Cas even could do that now; if maybe the connection was too weak for it.

“The Mark lashed out,” Dean continued, “But we’re fine now. Both me and the baby, we’re fine. We’re okay.”

“Dean.”

The firm tone of Cas’ voice told Dean that he wouldn’t just let this go. It was that same deep, demanding tone Dean had heard the angel use so many times before, and the hunter took in a breath at the sound, trying to steady himself for what he was about to say, but for a moment he couldn’t quite make himself let out the words hanging from the tip of his tongue. They were still too painful; the memory tied too them still far too fresh and vivid in his mind even now, as the risk of it happening again still remained, looming over their heads, and that thought was truly terrifying.

Finally, after a long, tense moment, he managed to say it out loud.

“I went into labor, Cas.”

Cas’ face fell instantly, eyes widening as soon as the words were out of Dean's mouth. His expression changed from worried to shocked very quickly, and then finally it settled into something heavier; something way too close to guilt.

“We’re fine now, though,” Dean hurried to add, “I started to have contractions, but Gabriel and Crowley… they stopped it pretty fast. We’re okay now. The baby’s fine.”

Cas shook his head at that, blue eyes wide and almost panicked as he stared at Dean like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, or like he had no idea how he should even react to it; like he couldn’t quite process the information he’d been given, much less properly respond to it. It was almost like he’d gone into shock, which was a pretty scary thought to have. The guilt in his eyes seemed to get even stronger, so much it almost looked like Cas might be in pain.

“You…” Cas' voice broke, and it sounded like he couldn't quite manage to make his voice leave his mouth correctly; like he couldn't even form words.

“I’m okay, Cas,” Dean repeated, remembering the thought he’d had yesterday and reaching out to grasp Cas’ hands in his own, lacing their fingers together in what the hunter hoped would be a soothing gesture, “We’re fine. We’re okay.” He pulled Cas to him then, gently tugging at the hand he was holding, lifting his other one to try and guide the angel to move closer, and fortunately Cas didn’t resist at all, instead letting himself be settled against Dean once more. The seraph's hand moved quickly, though, settling over the hunter’s bump just as the angel buried his face back into crook of the human’s neck.

Dean felt him let out a shaky breath, feeling a warm puff of air washing over the skin of his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t…”

“Cas, it’s okay. We’re fine,” he whispered, going back to softly rubbing the angel’s arm, trying to once more calm him down, even though the hunter knew that alone wouldn’t be quite enough to manage that right now. “It doesn’t matter now. We’re both okay and you’re here. You're awake, and we're all fine now. That's what matters, okay?”

"But, Dean, I..." Once more, the words died in Cas' throat, though it wasn't hard for Dean to guess what exactly the angel had been about to say.

And part of him wanted to argue—to tell Cas that it wasn’t the angel's fault, that it was actually his own, because he'd been the one to try and fight the Stynes in the first place, so none of what had come after that would have happened if Dean han't fucked up in the first place, but the human couldn’t find the strength to do it. He couldn’t quite bring himself to start up that argument right now, because he knew Cas wouldn’t just accept that, just as Dean wouldn’t let himself be convinced that the angel was to blame for any of this. And Dean knew that neither of them was actually up for a discussion of that sort right now, so he just let it go, deciding they could talk about this later, when Cas didn’t look just about to pass out again at any second.

So Dean let the silence stretch on for a little while, even if he could almost feel that Cas wanted to say something; wanted to insist on whatever he'd been about to say, but couldn't actually manage to speak again. At some point, Dean noticed the familiar warmness he always felt whenever Cas checked the baby slowly spreading over his insides, and for only a brief moment he wondered if the angel should really spend his Grace like this right now, but he kept quiet, of course. Cas needed to check the nephilim—that was probably the only way his mind would be soothed in any way, so Dean just let him do it. It would probably make Cas feel better at least a little bit, and that already made it worth it.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas whispered again, and he kept doing it, over and over again. He repeated those words nonstop, like a mantra, muttering them against Dean’s skin as he held on to the hunter for dear life, and Dean just held him, laying kisses to the side of his head from time to time as he whispered soothing words to the angel on a constant loop, reminding the seraph over and over again that he and the baby were both fine now.

But apparently that wasn't enough to convince Cas.

“I should not have taken the risk," Cas insisted, "I almost…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Cas,” Dean whispered, “If anything, it was mine.  I… I’m the one who shouldn’t have tried to take on the Stynes. I mean, even if Jacob had been alone in that store, I still shouldn’t have tried anything.”

Cas didn’t immediately argue with him about that one, which was to be expected, because Dean knew he really was to blame for that one.

But the angel did shake his head—weakly, granted, but he did it nonetheless.

“I could have lost you.” Dean felt the words whispered against his neck, and he closed his eyes, tightening his hold around the angel, feeling his heart ache at the clear tremble he could hear in Cas' voice. “I could have lost both of you.”

He could so easily hear the pain in those words, lacing every single syllable, and that rendered Dean completely quiet for a beat. He swallowed drily, letting out a shaky, trembling sigh as he kissed Cas’ head yet again once, twice, thrice, trying to calm him down, to soothe the angel in any way he could possibly manage.

“We’re here, Cas. We’re okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” the angel replied simply, voice sounding oddly final.

Dean had no response to that, no way to disagree or argue, so he simply remained silent.

What must have been some close to an hour passed in the same way, and eventually Dean managed to get Cas to calm down enough to stop apologizing, but the angel didn’t, even for a single second, loosen his hold around Dean, as though he feared something might happen if he did. Dean wouldn't complain about it, of course, instead simply holding the angel for as long as Cas needed him to, as he was just happy that the seraph was awake at all now.

Dean did notice, however, that even after Cas had calmed down a bit, the angel was still tense, from time to time sending a suspicious glance over to where Juliet was, as though expecting her to simply get up without a warning and attack them. He was still very clearly wary of her, and it didn't look like that feeling would be going away anytime soon, which was not something Dean would like to see happening right now. Cas wouldn't properly calm down and rest if he was constantly worried about Juliet, so Dean would have to do something about that.

And the thing was, somehow Juliet just always managed to make Dean feel better, even if just a tiny bit, so he couldn't help but feel kind of hopeful that her magic might work on Cas right now if she started being adorable.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean whispered, "Juliet's super docile and sweet."

"I do not trust her," was the angel's low, calm response.

Well, apparently Dean would have to try to change that.

"Okay, don't freak out, alright?" Dean straightened up a little on the bed, and he felt Cas tense up a bit against him, but he could tell the angel was just mostly confused and didn't know what exactly the human was about to do.

Good.

"Juliet," he called, and the hellhound lifted her head again, perking up immediately at the sound of her name, but she didn't get up from the floor, simply watching him silently, looking like she wasn't sure what to do or what he wanted from her. She was clearly hesitant to move, as though she knew she wasn't welcome on the bed right now, which made Dean feel a little bad. So he patted the bed softly, “Come here, girl.”

Juliet's ears rose a bit, and after another brief moment of hesitation, she finally got up and quickly trotted over to the bed, jumping onto the mattress with ease, immediately moving closer to sniff at both of them. Dean felt Cas tense a bit more, so he hurried to move his hand to pet the hound, and her tail started wagging immediately as she leaned into the touch, making her happy purring noise as he scratched behind her ear.

“See?” Dean offered, smiling at Juliet, glancing beside him to find Cas frowning at the hellhound like he couldn’t quite understand what she was doing. He looked pretty confused, and maybe also a bit surprised, so Dean added, “She acts just like a dog, apparently. It’s… kind of cute."

Cas still looked pretty lost on what to do, like he was struggling to actually process what he was seeing. "This is certainly... unusual," he finally decided, not for even a second looking away from the hellhound,

"Yeah," Dean nodded lightly, smiling softly at how Juliet tilted her head so he could have a better angle and scratch under her chin, "I wonder if all hellhounds are like this.”

“I do not know,” the angel replied lowly, voice still very much tentative and careful, like he was afraid of speaking too loud and scaring her or something, “I’ve never... encountered any hellhound that wasn't either growling or trying to bite me.”

Dean couldn’t really disagree with that.

Cas didn’t do anything for a while. He simply kept staring at Juliet, watching her carefully, almost like he expected her to just snap out of nowhere and go back to acting like the hellhound he had expected her to be, but of course that didn’t happen. Instead, she just continued being cute, and the more Dean petted her, the more she seemed to melt into it, even closing her eyes and lowering her ears completely flat against her head.

And it took a little while, but eventually the angel broke. Slowly, he started to lift his hand, though his hesitation to do so was very clear. Once he noticed that, Dean stopped petting the hound to let him take over, and Juliet whined, opening her eyes to look at the hunter, as though to ask why he had stopped, but she seemed to spot Cas’ hand moving toward her soon enough. So she turned her attention to the angel instead, leaning her head forward until her snout actually reached his hand. She sniffed at it curiously, and Cas waited, hand frozen in the air before him, until finally the hellhound ducked her head and pressed the top of it against his palm.

Cas’ petting was a little awkward at first, but he got the gist of it quickly enough, and soon the tail wagging was back with full force. Juliet actually looked all happy and excited that someone new was giving her attention, and Dean couldn't help but smile at the scene.

“See? She’s adorable,” the human commented.

It was a true relief to see the light smile that formed on Cas’ lips in response. It was weak, true, but it was still there, so that was something. “Indeed,” the angel agreed.

Cas stroked the hellhound's fur for a minute, before he seemed to grow tired of it and stopped the petting, letting his hand fall. He shifted a bit on the bed, adjusting himself as he settled back against Dean, as though deciding the matter had been properly dealt with. 

Apparently, though, Juliet was having none of that. She whined, loud and insistent, before she moved to lay over them a bit, so she wouldn't be out of reach for the angel, moving her head forward so she could nudge at Cas' hand with her snout, and when he lifted it a little she wormed herself under his palm, shoving at it lightly with her head, whining growing even louder.

It was adorable.

Even Cas seemed amused, and this time his smile came out a bit bigger, which was certainly a sight for sore eyes at this point. He continued to pet her then, earning himself a constant string of happy, pleased purring from the hound.

Juliet would grow on him very quickly, Dean was certain of it.

That actually went on for a while, until eventually Cas had to stop his petting because he was nearly falling asleep. Juliet didn't complain this time, though, instead remaining unmoving with her eyes closed, which had Dean assuming she was asleep.

Dean reached for the light switch then, turning off the lights. They adjusted themselves a bit better, actually lying down properly on the bed, being careful not to jolt Juliet too much as they did it, and quickly Cas settled even more against the hunter, letting his hand travel down between them so it could rest on Dean's bump again, nosing at the human's throat before eventually stilling, and a lot sooner than Dean had expected it, the angel was asleep against his chest, even if about an hour ago he had been unconscious still.

That couldn’t mean anything good about the state of his Grace, and it only made Dean even more worried.

He also felt exhausted by then, though, as he had barely been sleeping throughout the past few days, so he allowed himself to close his eyes. The calm, even sound of Cas' breathing soothed him, though the angel's heartbeat still sounded a bit too fast now that he actually paid close attention to it, especially considering that Cas was asleep. Dean didn't allow himself to dwell too much on it right now, however, telling himself that Cas was getting better, and that all he needed was a little more rest for that to be fixed.

He wasn't entirely convinced, but the thought did make him feel a little better, enough so that not too long after, he, too, was slipping into a restless sleep. 

***~*~*~*~***

Cas wasn’t much better the next day, and while that wasn't exactly suprising, while at this point Dean had already pretty much made peace with the fact that the angel’s recovery would be exceptionally slow this time, it still hurt to see Cas this weak; to watch him cough and wheeze breathlessly so often, to watch him become winded by the simplest movements, as well as to feel the fever that had yet to fade away every time Dean touched him, still so insistently clinging to the angel's skin.

Dean spent the entire following day beside the angel, of course. He would constantly make sure that Cas was okay, asking the seraph what he was feeling or if he was in any pain over and over again, as well as holding him whenever the angel had another one of his coughing fits, which happened far more often than Dean had expected them to, but all he could do was try to help the seraph get through them and calm him down as best as he could. It also wasn't hard to see how truly exhausted Cas was, even after sleeping for over twelve hours the previous night. He was just continually tired, so much that the angel kept dozing off several times throughout the day, sleeping for about an hour at a time, which also worried Dean quite a lot.

So Dean spent most of his time doing absolutely everything he could to try and soothe the seraph, to try and make him feel better and safe, hoping that would help him recover. He would hold the angel in his arms almost constantly, even when the angel was asleep, continually giving him light caresses and kisses to make sure Cas knew he was there and that both he and the baby were fine, repeating as many times as he had to that he wasn’t going anywhere. And during the calm moments when Cas was awake but not breathless or agitated, Dean would read up on his research with the angel curled up to his side, clinging to the hunter much like he'd done the previous night while the human brushed a hand soothingly through the seraph's hair.

Cas didn't talk much at all, though, especially not about Dean’s early labor, but it wasn’t hard to tell that the event still haunted him, as well as that he hadn’t quite managed to rid himself of the guilt Dean knew the angel felt because of it. It was actually very easy so see how the topic was still affecting him greatly with the way Cas was very reluctant to let Dean even leave the room at all, or how the angel all but clung to him at all times, as though afraid something bad might happen to him again if they weren’t close enough. Also, Cas would very often check the baby as well, leaving his hand resting on Dean's bump practically at all times, but the hunter could not bring himself to comment on it. Dean knew Cas well enough to know it wouldn't be easy to convince the angel that the hunter's early labor had not been his fault, maybe even impossible. So already Dean knew that argument would be pointless, and that it might only stress the angel out even more, so he chose to drop the matter for now.

Sam and Charlie were very relieved to see Cas awake, even though it was clear they were both pretty worried by the angel's clearly weakened state. But they didn't really comment on it, and Dean wasn't sure whether or not they were just trying to calm both him and Cas down somehow, but they did look pretty hopeful and oddly optimistic all of a sudden. They would also stop by very often to bring Dean and Cas food and water throughout the day, even though the angel wouldn't really eat much at all; would only nibble a bit on his food and not quite manage to actually empty his plate. And Dean was very thankful for Sam and Charlie's help, because as much as Dean wished that they would let him do things by himself and stop babying him, right now, he would very much prefer to keep the amount of time he spent away from the angel to a minimum. And whenever he had to leave the room, either Sam or Charlie would always stay with Cas, even if the angel insisted he would be fine on his own, but Dean just couldn't take that risk.

And much to Dean's relief, by the end of the first day, he learned that Cas' wounds were finally healing properly and that most of them didn't even need bandages anymore, which caused a tiny bit of hope to start blooming in the hunter's chest yet again. And even if the angel was far from okay, Dean would constantly remind himself that Cas had gone through a lot, so of course he wouldn't suddenly wake up and be fine, and that had to be why he was still so tired and weak. The fact that Cas was awake at all and that his wounds were finally healing meant that he _was_ getting better, it was just taking a little longer than usual for him to recharge, and the hunter would hang on to that thought for as long as he had to. And while the dull ache in the bond remained, it did seem to grow a bit weaker as the day went on, which Dean took as yet another sign that Cas' Grace was in fact healing, even if very, very slowly.

After night fell, when Cas seemed a lot more alert than he had been during the day, Dean finally asked him if anything had happened in the angel's mind while he'd been unconscious, and it was a true relief for the hunter to hear that the Mark had not been torturing Cas while he'd been out. The angel actually didn't remember much after being banished, apart from a few flashes from when he'd landed back on Earth (and he had landed in a forest, after all), as well as a few glimpses from when Gabriel had brought him here, but that was all, so at least it soothed Dean's mind a little to know that the Mark hadn't been playing with the angel's head as well.

The damn thing was still bothering him, though, but at least with Cas awake and the bond no longer numb, it was a lot easier to push it away.

The following days fell into the a very similar pattern, and at first, there was barely any change in Cas' state, close to no improvement whatsoever. Of course, his cuts were healing, but very, very slowly, and while his fever did finally go away, the angel was still considerably tired all the time. He couldn't even stand up straight for very long, because his balance was just completely gone and he would instantly get too dizzy for it, so just as Sam and Charlie had done to him, Dean had proclaimed Cas to be on bed rest for the time being.

In spite of all that, though, Dean kept telling himself that Cas just needed more time, that he'd recovered from worse things before, and that his own soul was indeed helping the angel, so there was still hope. Cas' Grace was weak, of course, way too low even, but Dean's soul was apparently still able to balance that out a bit, which meant that they still had a bit more time than they'd previously thought to fix this, to find Cas' Grace. This wasn't the end of the line just yet.

Gabriel was taking a long time to find those ingredients, though, and they hadn't heard from him since he'd brought Cas here, so Dean was starting to grow a bit worried about that.

At some point during the second day after he'd woken up, Cas finally asked Dean about Jacob, which only confirmed to the human that the angel was indeed still thinking about everything that had happened after he'd been banished. And Cas actually looked pleased once Dean told him that Sam had killed Jacob. His eyes were hard, but there was an odd, relieved glint to them all of a sudden as he slowly nodded in response, as though silently giving his approval to what he'd just heard.

And Dean understood that feeling very well. He, too, was happy to know that the man who'd tried to kill their baby was dead. As the angel fell silent after that, though, Dean decided to simply let the subject die there. Maybe they should talk about the fact that the Stynes were still out there and that they might still want to get their hands on their baby, but this just wasn't the right time for that conversation.

A few more days went by the same way, following the same rhythm, and slowly but surely, much to everyone's relief, Cas finally started getting better.

It started slow, but as time passed, Cas didn't seem so tired all the time. He started eating well again, and he would even sit up on the bed by himself without having to grip the headboard for support because his balance just wavered way too much. His cuts finally healed completely, too, which made Dean feel part of the weight that had been settled on his chest for days now melt away.

He would still sleep a lot, though, and he did still seem a lot more tired than normal, but he had a lot of recharging to do, so Dean tried not to think too much of it right now. Baby steps and all that.

On the sixth day after he'd woken up, Cas actually managed to stand up again and not collapse right back down onto the bed only a moment later, which was something that he hadn't been able to even get close to doing before. He would still lose his balance from time to time, though, so Dean insisted he should still be on bed rest for a little longer, except for when he actually needed to leave the bedroom, like when they decided to go eat in the kitchen instead of staying in their room, but the fact that Cas could move around the cabin at all was already a lot of progress. At that point, Cas was even feeling better enough to go shower to get rid of all the blood and mud in his hair, as well as shave his surprisingly fast growing beard, though only with Dean by his side, of course, giving him support and aid whenever the angel needed it.

Cas even started to help with research as well, even if Dean was definitely not happy about that one, but the angel could be just as stubborn as the hunter when he wanted to, so there hadn't been much of a point in arguing with him about that, especially because they still had not made any sort of progress with the codex, so they really needed all the help they could get on that front.

The air in the house seemed to grow noticeably lighter the more Cas' recovery went on. Even Dean himself started to feel better, more optimistic even, so much that he even started cooking again every once in a while, much to Juliet's delight.

But apparently she didn't necessarily need to be fed, or at least Cas did not believe hellhounds ate anything because they needed it at all. And that made sense, because depending on what Dean made, Juliet didn't seem interested in the food they offered her at all, while on some days she would not let them eat until they'd set aside a plate with food for her as well. And she would also pretty much only drink water after she ate, so it didn't look like she naturally felt thirsty or hungry at all. It really did seem like she only ate because she wanted to, and only whatever she wanted to.

And that was a pretty big relief, because Dean had been legitimately worried that they'd been neglecting her up until then.

Just as he'd mentioned he would, Sam had retrieved the hellhound glasses from the Impala at some point, which had then allowed both he and Charlie to actually see Juliet, which also seemed to please the hound quite a lot, as she was clearly very happy that she could finally get attention from everyone in the house.

And even Cas eventually warmed up to Juliet. In fact, after finally getting over the lingering suspicion and mistrust he'd initially had toward the hellhound, the angel actually seemed to spend almost as much time petting her as Dean did, and that had in consequence caused the hound to become even more affectionate with both of them, which might be the reason why even though Sam and Charlie also paid her attention now, she still wouldn't leave Dean and Cas' room very often. And she would always sleep on their bed, as apparently she'd claimed the spot by their feet to herself and no one was taking that away from her now.

It didn't bother Dean at all, though. He actually found it endearing.

A week passed, and Dean's bump seemed to have really started growing now, so much that it was already getting a little hard to miss it. The single sight of it was enough to make the hunter's chest so much warmer, a smile finding its way into his lips whenever he as much as glanced down at his stomach, because the fact that his bump was getting bigger meant that in spite of everything that had happened, their baby was still healthy and growing. Dean actually found his hands traveling down to rest on his bump a lot more often, too, every single time feeling almost mesmerized by it. He was actually doing it almost as much as Cas at this point.

His pants were already starting to feel a bit tight again, but not too much, so Dean chose not to bring it up just yet, because while Cas had said he would be able to adjust Dean's clothes as he needed it, the angel was obviously not well enough to actually deal with that right now. Dean could still wear his adapted jeans for now, and if those got too tight too soon, he could just stick to sweatpants for the time being. Also, his shirts were not hiding the bump all that well anymore, but it didn't show too much, especially if he put on a flannel over it, so he could still go out in public if he needed to without calling attention to himself. Either way, Dean just made sure not to let Cas notice he was starting to have trouble getting dressed again, because he definitely would not let Cas waste his Grace on this right now.

However, no matter how much lighter things seemed to be feeling the more Cas recovered, there was still a pretty dark cloud hovering over all of their heads, even if none of them would address it. Every single day was filled with the insistent expectation brought on by the doubt of when Gabriel would finally show his face again, followed by the disappointment that came with the end of every single day when that didn't happen. And to make things even worse, none of them seemed to actually bet getting anywhere with the codex, not even Cas, which was yet another thing that weighed heavily on Dean's consciousness.

And in addition to all that, there was a lot that he and Cas still needed to talk about, and Dean was very much aware of that.

He knew Cas had to know about the whole Amara thing. Dean still wasn't sure what the hell was up with that, true, and he still had a feeling that she wasn't even real, but a seed of doubt had been planted in his head about that. He really had no idea what to believe at this point, and the single thought of something entering his mind whenever it wanted was actually pretty fucking terrifying. And either way, even if that woman was part of an illusion, Cas had the right to know. In both cases, no matter if Amara was just yet another one of the Mark's tricks or an actual thing that could just very easily worm her way into Dean's mind somehow, Cas might also be influenced by it at some point because of the soul bond, so the angel had to be aware of it.

But Dean didn't want to worry him right now. He was afraid to stress Cas out in any way, because that might influence the angel's recovery and even send him back a few steps, so the hunter decided to wait until Cas was at least a bit better to do it.

Increasingly often, Dean also found himself thinking about the confession he'd made while Cas had been unconscious, and it bothered him that for some reason, now that Cas was awake and Dean had a chance to actually say it to the angel, he hadn't actually managed to repeat it. But the thing was, every time he thought about it, every time he found those three little words hanging from the tip of his tongue, the moment just never felt right. There was just always something that got in the way—how most nights Cas would pretty much simply pass out very quickly once they actually laid down to sleep, Sam or Charlie showing up with food or to check on them, Juliet deciding she wanted attention, or sometimes even simply noticing just how weak Cas still was.

Dean wanted to do it right, so he just kept waiting for the right moment.

They did end up talking about one of the things that had needed to be addressed, though. On the eighth day, Dean finally brought up the possibility of Cas taking another angel's Grace to buy them more time. He'd been tiptoeing around the subject for a while, just like with everything else they still had to discuss, trying to find a good moment to bring it up, until finally he just found himself blurting it out, breaking the tense silence that had stretched on for a while between them while they worked on their research in their room.

And Cas' response had truly been a surprise.

"Heaven is looking for us," the angel had said, and for some reason, his voice sounded even lower than it normally did, more gravelly, almost somber. There was just something dark about his tone, lacing every word, making every single one of them heavier somehow, as though holding a promise. "And if they find us... They will show us no mercy. They kill us, and they will not ask questions. They are attempting to find us specifically to end our lives, and I can't... If an angel were to find us with the intention to bring any harm to you or our child, then I... I would not be opposed to the idea of taking their Grace."

Dean had felt extremely relieved to hear those words, and he didn't even bother to hide it. He just hadn't expected to hear them at all, as that was such a big change from the last time they'd talked about this. And sure, taking another angel's Grace wouldn't actually fix anything by any means, but it meant that they at least had an alternative if things were to get worse, or if Gabriel were to take much longer.

Especially because it had already been over a week since Cas had woken up, and they had received no word from the archangel at all since the last time he'd been here. At this point, the radio silence had Dean wondering if maybe that could mean something had gone wrong, and that thought only made Dean even more bothered and worried about the feathers spell plan.

But they had no other choice but to wait, which only frustrated Dean even more.

And at some point, that frustration had Dean growing uneasy and constantly bothered by their unchanging, seemingly pointless routine. He found himself wanting a change of schedule, and as it turned out, there was one particular problem that had also been nagging on his mind for a while now that turned out to be just the distraction he'd been wishing for.

Meaning that Dean finally decided to deal with all the dry blood that was still stuck to Juliet's fur. That actually seemed to annoy Dean more with every day that passed, especially when it became clear that even Juliet was becoming bothered by it, as he would often catch her scatching at the spots where the short strands of her fur were actually caked together, sometimes even licking at them for minutes, as though trying to get some of the blood off by herself.

And they hadn't heard a single beep from Crowley since he'd left Juliet here, nor did they have any way to reach the demon, as there was no cell signal in this cabin, which had Dean wondering how the hell Crowley had even managed to call Sam at all from here, but well, maybe the King of Hell's cell worked differently than normal cells. Dean had actually been waiting for the demon to stop by to either check on his hellhound or tend to her needs, but that didn't seem like it would happen anytime soon, so either the demon didn't care about her too much or he was leaving it all up to them.

And at this point, the fur situation was actually becoming an issue they could no longer ignore.

“I think she needs a bath.”

Cas looked up from the book he had resting on his lap, frowning at Dean for a moment before letting his eyes fall to the hellhound lying by the hunter’s side.

“I mean, look at this,” Dean ran his hands over one of her paws, grabbing it with his hand and lifting it a little in the air so Cas could have a clearer view of it. Juliet raised her head to look at him as he did it, blinking confusedly at the human, as though trying to figure out what he wanted with her paw, but she didn’t try to pull it back. Running his hand over the hard, stained fur, Dean winced, because the dirty fur felt even harder than it looked. “This can’t be comfortable at all.”

The angel examined the paw for a moment, leaning a bit to the side and toward Dean so he could reach a hand out toward it. He touched the paw carefully, rubbing his thumb over the stained fur, assessing the situation for a moment before he let go of it. He didn't immediately pull his hand back, though, instead moving it toward Juliet's head. He offered his hand to her, letting her sniff at his skin before he moved it to pet her head for a beat, eventually letting his hand slide to under her chin, which also had a bit of dry blood stuck to it.

“It probably isn’t,” the angel finally agreed, “How long do you think Crowley plans to leave her here?”

“I don’t know. Sam didn’t ask, apparently.” Dean actually still didn’t really get why the demon had left her behind in the first place, really. Not that he was complaining about it, though. He really liked to have her around, as she was just adorable. It was just... unlike Crowley to do something like this, so of course Dean was confused by it. "You think he would mind if I gave her a bath? She really needs one, and it doesn't look like he'll stop by anytime soon to take care of it."

"She does," Cas nodded again, "And I do not see why he would complain. It seems like you'd be doing him a favor, as this would be something he would have to take care of himself later on."

Dean was immediately sold after that. 

However, as it turned out, giving a hellhound a bath was a lot easier said than done.

Getting her into the bathroom and then into the tub was easy, and she didn’t even resist or try to run away, which for only a brief moment had Dean allowing himself to be naïve enough to think that this was going to be easy.

And he was so very wrong.

The thing was, once the bath started to fill up and Juliet realized there was going to be water all around her, the hound had apparently decided she loved that idea, as well as that splashing water all over was suddenly the best thing to ever be done, so that was all she did—she kept lifting her body up on her hind legs and letting herself fall back down into the water, tail wagging and paws raising and falling over and over again to create bigger waves as she jumped all around inside the tub.

So basically getting her to actually stay still long enough for him to scrub her fur clean was a true challenge, and by the end of that particular endeavor, Dean found himself completely and utterly soaked from head to toe, not to mention that the bathroom had been turned into a small pond.

Juliet seemed very happy, though, and once Dean was done with drying her off with a towel (since they didn’t have a hair dryer in the cabin), she’d proceeded to run around the house barking happily to show off her now blood-free coat, jumping onto everyone's laps so they could pet her and see her shiny clean fur.

She got extremely cuddly for the entire day that followed, and even at night, when Dean and Cas were getting ready to sleep, she just didn't seem to get tired of the attention. She would constantly rub her head against their arms and chests, tail wagging wildly as she barked and whined at them. Dean couldn't help but smile at the scene, and it was really an amazing sight to see Cas do the same thing. The angel actually chuckled at her at some point, the sound clear and in that moment, one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever heard, because it meant that Cas was getting better; that he was fine enough to laugh and smile, a thought that had the hunter's chest feeling about a thousand pounds lighter.

Dean wished things could always be like this. He wished that their days could be this simple and light; that he could actually see Cas smile and laugh like that all the time. He wished things weren't so incredibly complicated right now.

Apparently, though, Dean Winchester just wasn't supposed to be happy. 

***~*~*~*~***

“Cas seems a lot better.”

Sam looked up at Charlie, for the first time in what he guessed had been over an hour finally tearing his eyes away from the book resting in front of him on the coffee table, glancing over at the girl sitting on the armchair a few steps to his right.

A moment ago, there had been nothing but complete, utter silence hanging heavily in the air inside the cabin, which Sam and Charlie had been very carefully trying to maintain for quite some time now—a few hours at least, Sam guessed. They had been working on their research for a while, hour after hour spent with their noses buried in the countless books Dean and Cas had brought from the Bunker as they continued to try to figure out a way to use Nadya’s codex to read the Book of the Damned. At this point, their routine had once more come to consist of seemingly endless hours of research, falling back into the same pattern Sam had grown accustomed to throughout the past few months; the same exhausting rhythm that his body seemed to be struggling to keep up with by now.

But he couldn’t exactly slow down, as much as his body demanded it.

Of course, Dean had told Sam that the whole Mark issue would have to wait until Cas had his actual Grace again, so even if they did manage to crack the codex’s code, they wouldn’t be able to use the Book right now; would not be able to actually get rid of the Mark, as it would do quite the opposite of helping, so one might argue that there wasn't much of a point for them to push themselves like this right now, chasing after a solution that would do them no good just yet.

But that didn’t mean the clock was no longer ticking on that front. They still had a deadline, as Dean, Cas and the baby’s lives would constantly be at risk while the damn Mark burned on Dean’s arm, and Sam was now more determined than ever to find a cure for it. The faster they figured out how to read the Book, the sooner they would be able to free Dean of the Mark once they had Cas' Grace, so the damn thing could no longer put Dean, Cas and the baby’s lives in danger. They still had to work fast, as they were very quickly running out of time.

And thus, during the past few days, while they waited to hear from Gabriel again, Sam and Charlie worked almost incessantly on the Book. Dean and Cas insisted on helping, too, and they had been investing quite a lot of their time on attempting to translate the Book as well, even if that didn’t exactly make Sam happy. The two needed rest and should not be pushing themselves with research right now, but their combined stubbornness was truly a force to be reckoned with, one that Sam had quickly found he had no hope to win against.

But at least they were resting quite a lot—they were actually both respecting the (now a lot more flexible) bed rest, especially Cas, so maybe the fact that they were simply reading a few books in the safeness of their room wasn’t as bad as Sam had been making it out to be, but he just couldn’t help it. He worried about them, and he was pretty sure he had a very good reason to feel that way. The image of Dean doubling over in pain, screaming with every contraction that hit him, haunted Sam's mind even now, over a week after it had happened, and it was far too vivid still for him to try to ignore it or push it away.

And so the last thing Sam wished to do was disturb Dean and Cas whenever they were resting, which meant that every single time Sam and Charlie talked at this time of the night, it was through low, contained whispers, as Dean and Cas were most likely asleep by now. Cas had actually fallen asleep pretty early, as it was normal for him now—he was just generally tired, it seemed, and he’d drifted off quite abruptly right after he’d finished eating dinner, even before Sam and Dean had been done with their own food.

Sam had walked past their room about an hour ago when he’d gone to use the bathroom, and he’d noticed the closed door, so he assumed Dean had also decided to go to sleep, which meant he and Charlie should be very careful about any noise they made. Sam knew that was precisely the reason why the girl had made sure her voice was nothing more than a gentle, barely audible whisper as she’d spoken now.

Sam took the comment as an excuse to lean back against the couch a little, a bold change from the position he’d been in for hours now—body slightly bent forward, face all but pressed to the books he had sprawled out on the coffee table before him, one hand hovering over the keyboard of his laptop as he compared some of his notes to what he had found online in prior searches. He hadn’t been getting any new information online throughout the past few days, considering they had no internet here, but he’d saved up a lot of useful information into his laptop over the past few months that they’d spent researching this very topic, and he was looking through those now as he compared everything to the pictures they had of the Book of the Damned, a few of the books Dean and Cas had brought with them from the Bunker and the codex.

Now that he’d snapped out of his trance, though, after the countless hours he'd spent completely lost in his research, finally leaning back and away from the mess spread out all over the coffee table, Sam suddenly realized that he should probably take a break. His muscles ached as he stretched them a bit, as if agreeing with that thought, and he winced a little, wondering if he should use the pause to make some more coffee. He could certainly use another mug, he realized.

“A little, yeah,” he replied. He brought one hand up to rub at his eyes, but that did very little to soothe the constant sting he could feel in them—another clear sign of exhaustion, he knew that too well. He blinked a few times, hoping that would help, especially when his eyes watered a little as he yawned. It worked, but only barely. “At least he’s… Well, awake and coherent now.”

But still far too weak, Sam’s mind quickly provided, a thought that had been haunting his mind for over a week now.

Charlie nodded lightly, looking down at the screen of her own laptop for a moment before she too leaned back and away from it, a tired breath escaping her lips. “Do you think… that there’s really any of Cas’ Grace left? I mean, do you think Metatron was really telling the truth when he said he didn’t use it all in the spell?”

Sam couldn’t say he hadn’t been asking himself that exact same question for months now. He had, countless times in fact, but that possibility just wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to think too much about up until now. It was also something they didn’t talk about, and maybe the reason for that might be a bit of denial, he was aware, but not worrying about it constantly was simply better than the alternative.

He had been worried about Cas for months now, of course, even before he'd known about the baby; even before Dean and Cas had bonded at all. Cas’ life had been on the line because of his fading Grace for over a year now, so of course Sam had been concerned for his friend, as well as invested on looking for Cas’ original Grace to save him. But the thing was, in Sam’s mind, before the soul bond and the baby, while they were still dealing with the Mark and Dean being a demon or being at risk of becoming one again, while they tried to _find_ a way to track down the angel’s Grace in the first place, Cas could just keep recharging with Grace from other angels to buy more time.

But that had changed now. Before, there hadn’t always been such a clear, devastating time limit to this; the clock hadn’t seemed to be as against them as it was now, and the consequences of failure now were so much bigger than he could have possibly thought.

“I hope so,” Sam breathed out, “I have no idea what we’re gonna do if there isn’t. I don’t… I don’t even want to think about that, honestly.”

Charlie nodded weakly again, swallowing, and apparently she didn’t seem to find anything else to add to that, instead letting the silence linger around them once more.

Sam decided to use the fact that he had made a pause on his research to go get some coffee going, though as soon as he stood up from the couch and announced that particular intention to Charlie, asking her if she also wanted some, he earned a negative response from her, followed by a very pointed look that he could read way too well by now. He could almost hear her telling him that he’d had enough coffee for one day about five mugs ago, or that he wouldn’t be helping Dean and Cas if he simply dropped dead because of how much he was pushing himself. He’d heard it all several times from her by now, but fortunately he didn’t have to hear it again tonight. She seemed to have recognized this was a lost battle some time ago, so all she did was give him a silent disappointed look, but she didn’t actually say anything.

Sam gave her no spoken response, instead simply nodding at the girl before turning around and making his way over to the kitchen.

He ate an apple while he waited for his coffee to brew, though that was all he allowed himself to have, even if he did feel a bit hungry. They’d stocked the cabin with food to last them for about three weeks, and it had already been over a week since the whole thing with the Stynes. At this point, Sam had no idea how much longer they would actually stay in this cabin for—it could be hours, it could be days, even weeks; it would all depend on how much longer it would take for Gabriel to find all the ingredients for the spell, and Sam wasn’t sure how long that might take. They hadn’t heard a single beep from the archangel since he’d left after dropping Cas off.

So they had to be mindful of how much they ate, or at least, Sam was being very careful not to eat too much. Now, he wasn’t letting himself starve or anything, he was just eating nothing more than what was strictly necessary, so he could make sure they would have enough food for Dean and Cas, because those two were the top priority right now. If it came down to it, they would need to make a trip into town and buy food, though, even if that was not really advisable for them right now. But they would have no other choice if food actually became a problem, because both Crowley and Gabriel were a bit out of reach right now, as they had no cell reception in this place and Gabriel was apparently not too interested in answering prayers, so if push came to shove, they might be on their own on this one.

Fortunately, neither Dean nor Cas seemed to have noticed how Sam would sometimes skip meals when he wasn’t too hungry, and he planned to keep it that way. Dean had done this more times than Sam could remember while they had been growing up—eaten a lot less than ideal, or sometimes even not eating anything at all so his brother would have enough food while their Dad had been out hunting—but Sam knew Dean wouldn’t be happy about this, so he was very discreet about it. He just hoped things wouldn’t get to the point where they would actually have to worry about food at all.

That was actually worrying Sam a lot, too. Gabriel’s radio silence couldn’t mean anything good, because the guy could literally teleport anywhere he wanted in the world, at any second, so maybe this wait meant that there was something wrong. And they had no way to know if that happened to be the case, so maybe they were waiting on nothing without even knowing about it.

Letting out a tired sigh, Sam pushed those thoughts aside. For now, they could wait a little more.

Sam finished his apple quickly enough, and once the coffee maker was done working, he took his mug of steaming hot coffee back to the living so he could continue with his research, as already he thought that he'd allowed his break to stretch on for long enough, maybe even too long. Charlie simply glanced up at him for a second as he walked back into the room, before focusing her eyes back down onto her research, once more choosing not to comment on Sam’s unhealthy caffeine habits, which he was very much thankful for.

They quickly fell back into the same heavy silence from before, and Sam’s coffee was gone in no time. He drank it so fast that he was actually considering getting up to get himself another mug, because he didn't feel like it'd had the effect he'd hoped for.

He was actually about to stand up from the couch when it happened.

The front door of the cabin suddenly burst open, pushed inside with such force that it was knocked off its hinges, falling to the floor and breaking a bit in a few places, the noise caused by it loud, echoing through the air abruptly and making both humans jump in surprise.

Sam and Charlie both got to their feet in a flash, eyes wide as they both looked over to the source of the sound, in a second finding themselves watching with their hearts in their throats as six figures walked inside the cabin. The newcomers stood in some sort of formation, with a man standing at the front—their leader, apparently, considering their postures and positioning, as well as how the rest of them pretty much hung back and simply stood behind him—and Sam had a pretty good idea of what they were, judging by the suits all of them were wearing and the stiff posturing, but he didn’t let that thought in just yet. He didn’t know for sure, and he shouldn’t—

“Hello, Samuel,” the male standing at the front said, nodding once in Sam’s directions in a polite, yet very much impersonal greeting. Somehow the gesture seemed cold, sharp, clearly nothing more than an act of pure cordiality. Not that Sam had expected anything different. “I apologize for the confusion. I’m afraid I’ve taken another vessel since the last time we last saw each other.”

It took a beat for the meaning behind those words to actually register.

“Hannah,” Sam breathed out, and he hated how his voice shook a little as he let the word out. His entire body was tense now, ready for a fight, and as much as he tried to hide the panic that was suddenly pooling into his insides, it was incredibly hard to keep the emotion from bleeding into his voice.

So they really were angels.

_Fuck._

“What are you doing here?” he asked, once more trying and failing to keep his voice steady and calm.

“I assume you know too well,” was the angel’s calm, yet once more cold response. The look in her (his?) eyes was surprisingly dark, unwavering, and the human swallowed drily at the sight of it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Sam didn’t respond, of course. Instead, he simply eyed the angels standing before him, mind racing as he tried to come up with something, anything he could do, but of course his mind provided him with no useful solution for this. What should they be trying to do right now? Fight? Stall the angels for long enough so that Dean and Cas could sneak out somehow? There was no way they would win in an actual confrontation, so Sam really had no idea what to do. This particular scenario hadn’t occurred to him as a possibility, so of course he was lost on how to deal with it. They had gotten too comfortable here; they'd thought they were _safe,_  and that had been a fatal mistake.

Finally, once the moment had stretched on for far too long, a tense, loaded silence hanging over their heads, announcing the chaos that Sam was sure would follow, Hannah seemed to grow impatient, asking the one question Sam didn’t want to hear right now.

“Where is Castiel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the cabin wasn't as safe as they thought it was, huh? Who knew? *nervous laugh*
> 
> Once again, I apologize for how long it took me to post this, but I hope the wait was worth it.<3
> 
> New Additional Tags: _Wingfic_ and _Winged Castiel_.
> 
>  _About the tags:_ Okay, so I will be adding wings to the story very soon! ;D But if you're not too happy with that idea, there's no need to worry, as they will not suddenly become the focus of story. I'm also not adding a _Wing Kink_ tag (at least not yet) because while that might be a little relevant, the way I'm writing the "wing kink" is not the same way I usually see it written in other stories, so I'll wait until we actually get there to decide if it's actually necessary. But hopefully you'll still like my take on the whole idea. :)
> 
> Also, there is a fourth additional tag that I'll need to add about this particular subject, but I'll wait a little to add that one, for spoiler reasons. You might be able to figure out what it is, though, because I've hinted at it a couple of times. ;) ;) That is actually the idea I'm at the same time most excited and nervous about, so I might be taking a bit of a risk here by adding it at all, but I hope you guys will like it regardless. ;)
> 
> Giraffes' "horns" are actually called ossicones, by the way. Just in case anyone was curious. ;)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been a few decades. XD And I'm really sorry about the wait for this chapter, but there are various reasons why this update is so late, many of which have to do with real life deciding to get busy and time-demanding, so I didn't have much time to write during the last few months of 2017. Also, I wanted to write the drafts for a few scenes up until chapter 32 to check some continuity issues I was worried about, because some of those would affect the events of this chapter.
> 
> And in addition to all that, this chapter turned out incredibly long as well. But I really wanted to post it before the new year, and I also didn't want to edit another +50k chapter, so back in December I decided to split it into two chapters, and then later on I also ended up cutting out the last scene of this chapter and moving it over to 24 because this update was still turning out a bit too long. And apparently it was really a good thing that I did all that, because this chapter (which consists of less than _half_ of what was originally supposed to be chapter 23) still somehow ended up over 43k words long.
> 
> And the thing was, this chapter was a hard one to edit, so much that at some point I even had to take a break from working on it because it actually gave me a headache. So I ended up taking a break from editing this one for a little over a week, which was truly the best thing I could have done, because when I went back to working on this update, everything flowed so much more easily.
> 
> Also, I know that I promised that a lot of exciting stuff would happen in this chapter to some of you in the comments, but please keep in mind that this one was split up into two parts, so some of the things I was referring to got moved over to 24. ;)
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence, the death of a few minor characters and the injury of various main characters. I've added a more detailed warning in the end notes. It also contains a very mild spoiler for the episode 10x11, "There's No Place Like Home".
> 
> Please keep in mind that there is a reason for everything in this story, even the bad things. Still, I'm sorry for... well, a few things that happen in this chapter. Please don't hate me!<3

Dean woke up with a start.

A loud bang suddenly echoed through the entire cabin, abruptly startling the hunter awake. However, the noise lasted for only a second, abrupt and brief, before silence engulfed the air once more, as though nothing had happened at all.

But something had obviously happened, and apparently, it had caused something heavy and made of wood to fall, hitting the floor beneath it with enough force to break it down to pieces, or at least that’s what it had sounded like. And of course that had been enough to pull Dean back to consciousness without a warning, causing him to jump on the mattress in surprise, waking up in a jolt. Cas tensed up beside him as well, quickly sitting up on the bed, and while Dean’s first instinct was to quickly press a hand to the angel’s chest to try and stop him from moving, because Cas shouldn’t be pushing himself at all right now and the seraph still needed all the rest he could get, the hunter refrained from doing so, as he had no idea what was happening and maybe they needed to be prepared for a fight.

Slowly, Dean sat up himself, frowning as he noticed the sound of voices coming from somewhere else in the house—from the living room, it seemed, or at least from that general direction. The sound was muffled by the walls around them and the closed door of the room, so much that Dean couldn’t make out the words that were being said, but even so he could easily tell that one of the voices was not exactly familiar. It was a male’s voice, but it was clearly not Sam’s, much less Gabriel’s or Crowley’s.

Dean’s entire body tensed up in alarm at that thought, because he knew for sure that whatever—or  _whoever—_ had caused all that ruckus could not possibly mean anything good. Mind suddenly racing, he tried to come up with all the possibilities for what could have been the reason for the noise, as well as think of what might be about to happen as he sat up even straighter on the bed, of all the possible scenarios that might be about to follow, feeling more awake and alert with every second that passed as a very generous amount of adrenaline was probably released into his bloodstream, but he couldn’t come up with much. The thought of either Sam or Charlie being the one responsible for the noise didn’t seem likely at all, and Juliet was still here in the room with them, lying by their feet at the end of the bed—now with her head and ears raised, completely alert, though Dean was fairly certain that she had been asleep up until now—so it hadn’t been her either. And that left the blame to be placed on Crowley, Gabriel or someone else, and considering the unfamiliar voice Dean could still hear echoing loudly through the air of the cabin, the most likely option really seemed to be the last one.

He swallowed drily at that thought.

Before he could do or say anything, though, Dean noticed Cas moving again out of the corner of his eye, and the hunter turned his head just in time to watch as the angel slowly lifted himself up from the bed and got to his feet, every single one of his movements worryingly struggled and slow, hand resting on the headboard for support since his balance was very clearly still compromised. His knuckles turned white with the effort of keeping himself standing at least somewhat steady, the muscles in his arm actually shaking a bit because of the strength he was putting into the action, a reminder of just how weak the seraph still was, of how much his body was still struggling to do something as simple as standing. It was like every single action, every single movement Cas made pained him, and the sight of it made Dean’s panic rise in his chest.

So without a thought, Dean’s hand shot up to grip the angel’s arm, eyes widening. He immediately knew he shouldn’t speak, though—his hunter instincts were kicking in, it seemed, as every single muscle in his body was suddenly tense, prepared for a fight that he had up until now wished would never come, and every single cell in his body was screaming at him, telling him not to make a single sound or call any attention to them right now.

 _Cas,_ he called in his mind instead of actually saying the word out loud,  _You can’t go out there. We don’t know what’s going on._

Cas paused for a moment, turning his head around to glance back down at the hunter. His eyes were almost sad as he looked at Dean, gaze holding something heavy that the human couldn’t quite identify.  _I fear we might not exactly have a choice._

The words weighed heavily on Dean’s shoulders, so much that they rendered him completely silent for a moment as the gravity of the situation really sunk in. He felt his hand going slack, which allowed Cas to properly lean away from him, wrist slipping out of the human’s hold without any resistance.

Dean felt his heart climb up to his throat as he watched the angel bend down with a bit of trouble, still seeking support from anything he could press his hands against, which in this case was the mattress right beside him as he reached under the bed, before slowly pulling out the Angel Blade they kept hidden down there for safety, the same one Sam had spent almost two hours cleaning dry blood off of and polishing about a week ago. The angel’s hold around the handle of blade was tight, maybe even a little too much, as if he was afraid to drop it, like he didn’t trust his own grip on it, which definitely couldn’t mean anything good.

It was a painful sight to see, and Dean wished he could try to convince Cas to lay back down on the bed, but he knew there was no point to that, because surely Cas would not agree to it right now. If there really was a fight about to break out, that would do pretty much the opposite of raising their chances of winning it.

So instead of voicing any sort of request or complaint, the hunter simply watched in silence as the angel walked over to the door of the room with uncertain and unsteady steps, feeling his chest tighten at just how much more evident it became then that Cas was still far too weak. It could not possibly be more obvious that the angel was in no shape to deal with whatever was going on out there right now. He was not ready for a fight, as he had yet to fully recover from that banishing sigil, and it showed.

Cas paused once he reached the door, though he did not immediately open it, apparently choosing to simply stand close to it for a moment, head almost pressed against the wood. It looked like he was trying to hear something through the door, maybe try to make out the words being said outside or even attempt to recognize the unfamiliar voice that still echoed through the air coming from somewhere down the hallway, but Dean had no idea if the seraph could actually pick up on anything useful. Regardless, the angel still gripped his blade tightly, keeping it slightly raised by his side, ready to use it at any second, like he was worried someone might just suddenly burst through that door.

And that was a real possibility now, Dean realized with dread.

A low growl reached Dean’s ears, and he quickly turned his head to look in the direction the sound was coming from, startled, only to find Juliet standing beside the bed, a lot closer to Dean than she’d previously been only a few seconds ago. Her entire body was tense, ears lowered back flat against her head as she stared at the door with sharp eyes, as though she was also expecting someone to just barge into the room at any second now. He hadn’t even realized she’d jumped down from the bed at all, but then again, everything had happened so abruptly and Dean had been so focused on Cas while the angel had been struggling to move across the room that it was truly no wonder that he hadn’t noticed she had at some point chosen to stand there until now.

Everything about her stance very clearly spelled out aggressive, and that only made Dean even more anxious and worried. She wouldn’t have that reaction if it was Crowley or Gabriel out there, so this definitely could not mean anything good.

The sight of the hellhound’s defensive stance was enough to prompt Dean to move. He knew he shouldn’t be pushing himself in any way, that the last thing he should be doing right now was putting himself in harm’s way, but Dean couldn’t just sit there and watch whatever was about to happen without doing anything. Cas was way too weak to deal with this alone.

Keeping that thought in the forefront of his mind as a constant reminder that he had no other choice and pushing away the annoying voice in the back of his head that kept repeating how much of a bad idea this was, Dean got to his feet, moving slowly and being careful not to make a sound, stepping over to where Juliet was to rest a hand on her back in an attempt to try and stop her from snarling so loudly. They should probably be quiet, he reminded himself. He really had no idea what was happening out there, and he didn’t want to take risks. They could not afford that right now.

Juliet immediately stopped growling once the hunter rested his palm against her fur, but she didn’t relax at all, not even for a single second moving her gaze away from the door. She looked just about ready to pounce at any second if it became necessary, and for the first time in a little over a week, Dean was reminded of how truly deadly and dangerous she could actually be if she wanted to. She acted so sweet and playful with them all the time that it was easy to forget she was actually a hellhound.

_Dean…_

Dean looked up at the sound of Cas’ voice echoing inside his head, finding the angel staring at him from the spot where he was still standing by the door, eyes slightly wider than before, heavy with something that very closely resembled a warning, and the worry and fear that had at some point bled into them made that look even more intense, begging even. And Dean knew exactly what the seraph wished to convey with simply that look—that the human shouldn’t be standing right now, that he shouldn’t be even considering coming closer to that door to check anything, that he had to be careful. There was a clear hint of panic in the angel's eyes that the hunter couldn’t quite ignore, and that made his own panic grow inside his chest.

But he still shook his head at Cas, because if there really was something bad going on out there, no matter if neither of them was in any position to fight, what other choice did they have but to be ready for whatever danger was coming their way? Cas could barely even stand right now, much less fight, so he couldn’t do this alone. The risk of either of them getting hurt would become smaller if the two of them did this together.

_I’ll be fine, Cas. It’s okay._

Cas didn’t look convinced at all, of course, but he didn’t seem to have the strength in himself to argue any further, or maybe he was following the exact same train of thought as Dean. So at the seraph's silence, the hunter took a few more steps toward the door, trying to keep his thoughts rational and avoid panicking as he felt his body move carefully across the room, walking closer to Cas without making a single sound.

Juliet followed him slowly, once more looking like she was escorting him, though she didn’t start growling again, apparently having understood the need for silence. Still, the human kept his hand on her back, just in case. He didn’t think letting her simply dart out of the room growling and biting at whatever crossed her path as soon as they opened that door would be a good idea.

At least he thought so, anyway. Again, he had no fucking idea what was happening out there.

Once they reached Cas, the angel gave Dean one last heavy, warning look, before reaching for the doorknob and turning it slowly, opening the door as silently as he could.

Juliet instantly started growling again.

“Shhhh,” Dean whispered to her, brushing a hand soothingly over the fur covering her back, and fortunately, just like before, she stopped snarling almost instantly.

And once that was dealt with, Dean leaned forward, realizing then that he could hear the voices coming from down the hallway a lot more clearly now, and they really did seem to be coming from the living room. He was careful to stay out of sight as he concentrated on the voices, leaning forward with Cas but not quite peeking his head out the doorframe, frowning as he tried to make out what the voices were saying.

“Why the hell did you follow us all the way here?” he heard Sam ask, and if Dean had needed any other indication that whatever was going on over there was pretty bad, he got it then, just by hearing his brother’s voice. Maybe someone who didn’t know Sam too well might have missed it, but Dean could hear it clearly—the sharpness to his brother’s words, the slight rush in his tone that gave away the fact that he was nervous, that he was struggling to come up with a solution to whatever problem he was facing, attempting to think fast on his feet, but at the same time still trying to sound calm and controlled.

The sound of it made Dean’s stomach sink down to his feet, a feeling that got even worse when he realized that the male voice he’d been hearing up until now wasn’t exactly new to him.

“Over a week ago, the Heavenly Host received a signal. An alarm rang in Heaven for the first time in over a thousand years, which means that a nephilim,” Dean felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of the baby, “The abomination that is a half-angel, half-human hybrid, has not only been conceived, but has been developing in secret, somehow hidden from us, for over five months now.”

It was Hannah, Dean realized with a wave of dread. He recognized the male voice that echoed loudly off the walls outside the room, as it was the same one he’d heard the last time he’d talked to the angel on the phone back in the cabin in Branson, when she’d given them the ingredients and instructions for the feathers spell. And the fact that Hannah was here right now could only mean one thing.

Angels.

The word rang inside Dean’s head for a long beat, but he couldn’t quite make himself have any reaction to it, couldn’t get his mind to cooperate enough for him to actually say or do anything, which was probably a good thing anyway, considering that now it became even clearer to him that they definitely should not be calling any attention to themselves right now by making any noise. He was completely frozen as the meaning of this sunk in, as it really registered in his head that this was actually happening, and with that realization came a wave of pure, intense fear that washed over his insides and left him completely stuck, unable to move, air suddenly feeling too thin in his lungs, heart beating rapidly and almost painfully inside his chest.

Heaven was here. Heaven had found them. They had actually found them. There were actual angels right down that hallway, just a few feet away from them, and they were here to kill him, Cas and their baby.

But how many of them were out there? Dean could only hear Hannah talking, but surely there were more? If it was only her, he was pretty sure they could take her pretty easily, but what if Heaven had sent out a dozen angels to find them? What then? They couldn’t fight that many.

And they couldn’t just sneak out the back door either, even if that was the first impulse that registered in Dean’s mind, what his instincts were currently screaming that he should do, which was definitely a new thing for him. Never before had his first response to a fight or flee situation been such a big, resounding  _run_ echoing over and over again inside his head, but things were surely bound to change when the life of his child was also on the line, so of course his protective instincts would kick in now.

But they couldn’t run. And okay, even though the back door was all the way across the house in the kitchen and there was no other way to get out of this cabin that did not require them going through the living room, he and Cas  _could_ very easily jump out the bedroom window if they did wish to flee before the angels actually found them here, considering the cabin only had one floor, and Dean was very much aware of that option. But they didn’t know how many angels were out there, so they couldn’t just abandon Sam and Charlie to deal with them on their own. Both of them could hold their own in a fight, Dean knew that very well, but the odds would definitely not be in their favor if they were up against a whole brigade of angels, and Dean was not willing to let them sacrifice themselves for him like that.

As that thought registered in his mind, Dean turned his head to the side to glance at Cas, to gauge the angel’s reaction to all of this, to check if the seraph was thinking the same thing as him, and the fact that Cas was making no move to flee told Dean that he probably was.

Also, it did nothing to help soothe Dean's by now pretty much panicking mind when he found a pair of wide blue eyes staring back at him, mirroring the fear and despair that the hunter was feeling himself, a sight that only made the gravity of the situation even clearer to the hunter. But there was something else in them as well—a clear spark of something very close to determination that only made Dean even more nervous, because he instantly knew what that meant, and all he could really think about when that sight registered in his mind was how Cas was in  _no fucking state_  to fight.

Fuck, this couldn’t have  _happened._

Fuck.  _Fuck._

“Castiel was the only angel not present in Heaven when we received the warning signal. Of course, that by itself does not necessarily mean anything, but some have expressed concern that Castiel might somehow be involved in the situation, so we did not try to contact him once the possibility was voiced, as that obviously goes against the normal procedure for whenever a transgression of this magnitude is discovered. We tried to find him instead, track him down, and much to our surprise, we found that at the time, Castiel was also in Branson, Missouri, the same place the signal for the hybrid had come from.”

Damn it. So they had checked Cas’ location. Dean had really hoped they wouldn’t do that, but as it turned out, apparently those winged bastards really did hate Cas.

“Of course, that spoke for itself, but we had to make sure we knew what we would find once we went after Castiel, because for some reason, wherever Castiel is, you Winchesters very often seem to follow, and if our suspicious were right, then that might create a problem.”

There was a hint of annoyance to her voice that was pretty much impossible miss. Dean really didn’t like the way their name rolled off her tongue, wasn’t at all happy with the hint of disdain and disapproval that laced her words, like the thought of them was actually unpleasant to her. Dean had never had much contact with Hannah, and he’d always had the feeling that she was only at least cordial with them because of Cas, but apparently she didn’t feel the need for that anymore.

Honestly, Dean had never really liked her to begin with, even before he’d learned that she had banned Cas from Heaven, or how she seemed to have had the hots for Cas at some point, and apparently he’d been right to feel that way about her all along. After all, she  _had_ tried to get Cas to kill Dean a little over a year ago just to prove a point.

“However, you and your brother are both warded against Heaven, and therefore completely unreachable, so I was hesitant to simply follow the signal for the nephilim and attempt to find Castiel without knowing for sure if he was alone, or what we could possibly encounter.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you ended up  _here,_ ” Sam insisted. His tone was sharp, defensive, and the way he was very obviously ignoring the whole nephilim story to buy more time could not possibly be clearer. He was probably only half-focused on the conversation, while another part of his brain was busy trying to find a way out of this, to come up with a plan right there on the spot. Dean was doing the exact same thing, but at least without an audience.

“Months ago, after I found Dean unconscious in that motel room in Colorado and took him to you in Kansas, you briefly introduced your redhead friend to me as Charlie Bradbury.”

That had Dean tensing up a bit, because hearing Hannah say Charlie’s name was definitely not something he’d expected. Honestly, he had almost forgotten those two had met at all. And okay, sure, now that he thought about it, Dean did remember all that happening way back in February or something, but he really didn’t know what the hell Hannah meeting Charlie had to do with anything that was happening here, and the fact that his thoughts were currently going at pretty much a thousand miles per hour as he desperately tried to figure out what to do, as he thought about all the options they had other than fighting all the angels that had come here to kill them, wasn’t helping him focus on that particular train of thought at all.

“And?” Sam demanded.

“Ever since Castiel was exiled, Heaven has kept a certain attention to his human ties. That includes you and your brother, of course, and after I mentioned her, the Host found it within reason to add your friend… Charlie to that list as well. However, the name you gave me did not match the person I'd met, which confused me. It seemed odd that you would provide an inaccurate name for her. Fortunately, Heaven keeps track of every single human soul that is born—it’s an automatic process, created by our Father Himself that has never stopped working, even after He left—so she had to be registered under another name, and as it turned out, that was exactly the case. Eventually, we linked the name Charlie Bradbury to Celeste Middleton.”

Dean had never even heard that name before, but he tried to push his surprise away for now, because this was definitely not the time for it. He had known Charlie wasn’t Charlie’s real name for a while now, ever since the first time they’d met her, actually, during the whole Dick Roman situation, but neither he nor Sam had ever really bothered to ask her about it. They knew she had a past she didn’t want to talk about, that she’d spent most of her life on her own because of the car accident that had killed her father and put her mother in a coma when she'd still been a kid, and that all those years fending for herself had most likely not been easy for her, but she’d never volunteered much about it, which had to mean she didn’t want to share, and that was fine. They’d never asked about it, because it wasn’t their place. Her secret, complicated backstory didn't change anything at all for them.

And now really wasn’t the time for that train of thought, even if a small spark of curiosity did come to life inside Dean's chest, which he was quick to stomp down and push away. They had much more important and urgent things to think about right now.

Dean also wanted to know what Hannah had meant by 'certain attention', but again, this wasn't the right time for him to be focusing on something like that. It wasn't like he could ask her about it, anyway.

“So we decided to take a chance at your friend, because if she happened to be with Castiel, then it would be probable that you and your brother were with him as well, maybe even involved in whatever he might be doing.”

So they had tracked them through Charlie, then? But hadn’t Gabriel carved all those warding symbols into her ribs? The angels couldn’t have possibly gotten around that sort of warding, or else they would have been able to do the same thing with Sam and Dean, so they must have tracked her sometime in the window between Dean getting the amulet torn off from his neck and Gabriel carving the wards into Charlie's bones, probably before the whole thing over at the Styne mansion.

Damn it.

“And we found her in Branson, Missouri.” Hannah made a pause after she said that, maybe to let her words sink in or to create even more tension, maybe simply to gauge Sam’s reaction, Dean had no idea. But no matter what the reason for that pause had actually been, the silence that followed Hannah's words still had Dean swallowing drily, nervousness building up inside of him even more as he waited for her to elaborate, though he already had a pretty good idea of where this was going by now. “By then, however, we had lost the signal for the nephilim, as somehow it became cloaked from us once again, so we decided we should follow Castiel's and Celeste’s signals instead. What intrigued me, though, was the fact that Celeste’s location changed not too long after we first tracked her, while Castiel remained in Branson. She appeared in this very cabin, from where she soon, too, completely vanished shortly after. She was unreachable for an hour, before she appeared in Branson again, where Castiel still was.”

Fuck, so they'd really tracked Charlie during the time they were still warding the cabin, while her ribs hadn't yet been carved.

So they really should have moved, then. When Gabriel had brought Cas here, they had briefly wondered if maybe Heaven could track them down all the way to this cabin through Cas, but the seraph hadn’t been here before the place had been warded, so they hadn’t worried about it, figuring they were safe. Fuck, Dean hadn’t even  _thought_ that they could  _possibly_ track them down through Charlie; that idea hadn’t even fucking occurred to him, at any fucking point, because how could it have, really? Hannah had met Charlie  _months_  ago, and they’d spent what, three hours in the same room together? How the hell had they been supposed to imagine this could be a possibility?

“And not too long after, both Castiel and Celeste appeared in Hollister, Missouri. They remained there for a few hours, until they both completely vanished. And we’re not sure about how either of you has been moving so fast, considering Castiel can no longer fly, just as we had no idea where Celeste had gone, but this time, when Castiel disappeared, we felt him being banished. We had no way to find either of them after that, but we headed to Hollister anyway, hoping we would find them there, or at least some sort of… trace that would lead us to them. But that did not happen.”

Briefly, Dean wondered if Charlie was out there in the living room as well, because if she was, she hadn’t spoken a word until now. Also, Hannah was talking like she was only addressing Sam, judging by the way she was referring to the redhead like she was nothing more than a mere piece in the puzzle Heaven had attempted to solve in order to find the nephilim, completely unimportant for anything else other than helping them find Cas.

Or maybe Charlie  _was_  out there right now, but Hannah didn’t think it was necessary to actually address the redhead in any way, instead choosing to talk only to Sam and pretend like the girl wasn’t even in the room with them. Dean wouldn’t be surprised.

Again, there was no need for the bitch to be cordial or polite to them anymore.

“When we got to Hollister, we found a true murder scene—ten human bodies scattered around a house, with no signs of demonic possession or anything of the sort, though their wounds were far worse than anything any human or angel could ever cause. We have yet to understand that incident, but by that time, we noticed Castiel seemed to have landed back on Earth in the middle of the Atlantic Forest, in the heart of Brazil. And we did briefly consider following that signal, but it, too, vanished within a few hours, leaving us with no trace to follow.”

Another pause followed, and for some reason this time the silence felt far too loud in Dean’s ears, like the foretelling of something terrible, of a heavy thunderstorm brewing in the distance. He shifted on his feet, uncomfortable, hating that he was here in this room and not out there, because he had no idea what they were dealing with, of exactly how many angels had come after them, but he knew going out there would be the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life, so of course he forced himself to stay put and just listen.

Cas also remained unmoving by his side, eyes fixated on a spot on the wall across from them, ears undoubtedly strained as he seemed to focus on every single sound that came from down the hallway, clearly hanging on to every single word that reached them here.

Fortunately, the pause didn’t last too long.

“So we decided to do the only thing we could do and check all the possibilities we had for where Castiel could be, which meant we would need to try every single one of the locations we knew for certain he'd been at recently," Hannah continued. "We found nothing in Branson, however, so we were left with only two options—this cabin and Castiel's landing site in Brazil. But since this one was much closer to Missouri, we decided to come here first. And apparently, we were right to do so.”

“So you followed us all the way here to Canada because you think Cas might have something to do with some… ancient nephilim alarm you guys heard up there in Heaven?” Dean was actually impressed with how easily the words rolled off Sam’s tongue then, because up until that moment his brother had sounded awfully defensive, but apparently the shock had worn off by now and he’d decided it was time to try and convince the angels they had no reason to be here.

Dean doubted that would actually work, though.

“It is a possibility that we cannot ignore, Samuel, as I’m sure you understand. And Castiel’s… rebellious behavior throughout the past few years does very little to help his case at the moment.”

Dean had to actually hold back a scoff at that last part, because if he remembered correctly, Hannah had been one of the angels who had been very much eager to follow that same ‘rebellious angel’ less than two years ago, after all the angels had been cast out of Heaven and they had needed a leader to fight against Metatron.

Fucking hypocrite.

Cas moved beside him then, and Dean turned his head to focus his attention on the angel instead of the conversation going on out there. Without a word, the seraph moved closer to the human so that there were only a few inches separating them, before resting his hand on the hunter’s front, right over his steadily growing bump, caressing it slowly with his thumb, his touch gentle and tender, as though the angel was attempting to ground himself somehow. And while that gesture would normally be soothing, the action set a weight over Dean’s heart, because suddenly he had a very bad feeling about this, especially when he noticed the angel taking in what looked like a steadying breath, then letting it out slowly. They exchanged a brief look, and Dean didn’t like what he saw in the angel’s eyes at all—there was a sharp sort of determination coating his gaze, the same one from before, but now it was much stronger and obvious, as if it’d somehow grown during the minutes they’d spent eavesdropping on the conversation happening over in the living room.

And in that moment, Dean was absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be happy with whatever the seraph was planning to do right then.

_Cas…_

The angel simply shook his head lightly at him, as though silently begging for the hunter not to argue or ask questions, which only made Dean even more nervous and curious.

“So you’re really just  _assuming_  that Cas had something to do with it?” Sam asked, “Just because of the things he's done in the past? Simple as that?”

“We cannot ignore Castiel’s past,” Hannah said simply, voice oddly cold and sharp, like she was talking about some random angel she’d never met, not one that she’d once claimed to be her fucking friend. It made Dean’s blood boil. “Now, I’ll only ask one more time, Samuel. Where is Castiel?”

Dean and Cas both tensed up even more at those last words, the threat they carried floating over their heads like a dark cloud. Cas still didn’t say anything, but he lifted his hand slowly, the same one that was still holding his Angel Blade, while at the same time allowing his other one to slide down from Dean’s belly so it could find the hunter’s wrist. Carefully, the seraph gripped Dean’s hand, pulling it up a bit so he could press the handle of his blade to the human’s palm, before slowly closing the human’s fingers around it, a silent request for him to hold it on his own.

Dean had no idea what the action meant, and he frowned, giving the angel an inquiring look.  _Cas, what are you…?_

The angel shook his head again, his eyes sad and heavy, filled with something that Dean once again couldn’t quite identify. It looked like a request, and now even more than before the hunter found that he didn’t like what he was seeing.

Cas’ hand moved up quickly once he was certain Dean was properly holding the Angel Blade, coming to rest on the hunter’s jaw, gently cupping Dean’s face as he leaned in to press a short, light kiss to the human’s lips. It only lasted a short moment, though, and far too soon the angel was leaning away from Dean, but he only moved back about an inch, resting his forehead against the hunter’s and taking in yet another deep breath.

Dean wanted to say something, of course. He wanted to inquire about where the sudden shift in the angel’s demeanor had come from or what he was planning, but the human couldn’t quite find the words to do it, and apparently he waited a second too long, because in the end he didn’t get a chance to say anything at all. Without a warning, Cas leaned away from him in a sharp, abrupt movement, and suddenly the angel was stepping away from him, moving out of the room and into the hallway in the blink of an eye, before the human could even process what was happening, like Cas was afraid that Dean might try to stop him if he didn’t move fast enough, leaving the hunter too surprised—and confused—to follow, frozen in his spot by the door.

Fortunately Juliet didn’t try to move then, because Dean might not have had the presence of mind to stop her if she'd decided to dart out of the room after Cas, not with the wave of pure, intense worry and dread that flooded his chest once it registered in his mind that Cas really had simply darted off in the direction of the living room without a weapon to defend himself with.

What the fuck was Cas  _doing?_

“Hannah,” Dean heard Cas’ voice coming from down the hallway, from the exact same direction where the other voices had been coming from, which meant the angel had not taken a detour of some sort and had in fact simply waltzed into the living room. Dean didn’t want to run, but he also hadn't even considered just fucking striding into the room full of potentially murderous angels, either. How the hell could that even seem like a good idea to Cas? What was he thinking? This could go disastrously wrong way too easily.

Dean swallowed drily at that thought, feeling his chest grow heavier with worry with every second that passed, his grip around the handle of Cas' blade growing even tighter, as if he was unconsciously preparing himself to use it at any second now, though having it in his hold provided the hunter with very little comfort. The weapon felt heavy in his hand, wrong and unwanted, bothersome even, because he really wished that Cas had taken it with him instead of giving it to Dean.

The sound of Juliet growling lowly beside him startled Dean, and the hunter moved his hand to rest on the hound's back for the third time since he’d woken up, as he was still afraid she might want to follow Cas and just bolt right out of the room without a warning. He had no idea what Cas was planning to do, so letting her do that was probably not a good idea.

“What brings you here?” Cas’ voice was oddly calm as he asked that question, which was definitely a surprise, and at the sound of it, Dean's confusion grew even more intense. All that his mind could actually conjure up in that moment was basically an endless chorus of  _what the fuck is Cas doing?_

“Hello, Castiel,” Hannah replied, and Dean could very clearly hear the surprise that bled into those two words. Clearly she hadn’t expected to see Cas simply stroll into the living room like that, like there was nothing wrong and he had no reason to worry about the unwanted visitors asking for him, and Dean could very easily imagine why she would be so caught off guard by it.

“Why would you come all the way here to find us, Hannah? And with five more angels alongside you?” Cas asked, probably saying the number out loud for Dean’s benefit, so that the human could know exactly how many angels they were dealing with. And he could have just told Dean the number through the bond, true, but maybe Cas feared the other angels might notice it if his attention was divided in any way, which could very possibly lead them to grow even more suspicious of him than they already were, so the seraph probably didn't want to risk it.

Six. So there were six possibly murderous angels out there, which was definitely a lot more than they could handle easily.

Fuck.

“I would assume you know, Castiel,” Hannah replied, and apparently she had already recovered from her surprise by then, as any previous hint of it was now completely gone from her voice. There was an even clearer sharpness to her words now, an unfriendly, harsh coldness coating every single one of them, which was the very opposite of reassuring.

“I’m afraid I don’t, no,” Cas replied just as easily as before, his tone so calm it was actually surprising. By the sound of it, Cas was planning to bluff his way out of the situation, a realization that immediately had Dean growing even more worried, because the odds of that actually working were ridiculously low, but he had to admit he was a bit impressed by what he was hearing. The tone of Cas’ voice, the actually almost innocent confusion mingling in with his words sounded completely truthful, no hint of nervousness to be noticed in any of it whatsoever.

Could they really pull something like this off?

Dean really fucking hoped so, but he couldn’t allow himself to be too optimistic about it.

Suddenly it made sense why Cas had left his blade behind with Dean, though. Of course that he wouldn’t want to immediately seem hostile to the angels if his plan really was to just play the innocent, confused card, which meant that he definitely shouldn’t just walk out there brandishing a weapon in his hand. And since he was wearing nothing more than pants and a t-shirt, he also had nowhere to hide the blade from sight, either.

The fact that Cas was out there, completely unarmed in that living room with six other angels that might try to kill him at any second now did the very opposite of soothing Dean’s mind, but the hunter took a little bit of comfort in the fact that they had another blade stored out there in the living room—under the couch, easily accessible though completely hidden from view to someone who didn’t know it was there, just in case it became necessary.

Dean made a mental note to thank Sam for being so overly prepared for everything later.

That was, if he even got the chance to do that; if there would even be a later for him.

He pushed that thought away.

There was a short pause, which couldn’t have stretched on for longer than fifteen seconds, but it was already enough to make Dean grow even more anxious, the doubt of what was about to happen sitting heavily in his stomach, acid and painful, burning like he’d swallowed hot coal. He actually felt nauseous, but he did his best to ignore that feeling, because this really was not a good time for him to take off running to the bathroom to throw up his dinner. He just hated the fact that he had no idea what the hell was going on out there, so much that he kind of wished he could go there and see it for himself.

But he knew that would not be a good idea at all, since it would most likely do the very opposite of helping with their current situation, so yet again he forced himself to stay put, as much as he wished that he could be out there in that living room with Cas and Sam, and maybe Charlie, too. He still didn’t know where she was.

And anyway, it wasn't like Dean would be completely clueless if he stayed back here, because he could still hear what was happening out there pretty clearly, which meant that if this whole bluffing idea went wrong, even all the way here, Dean should still be able to tell the moment hell broke loose. But that hadn’t happened yet, so he really shouldn’t move from where he was. He wasn’t safe here in this bedroom by any means, not when there were six angels who wanted to kill him and the baby in the same house as him, under the same roof, only about thirty feet away from him, but this was certainly safer than being in the same room with them. Dean should probably stay out of the line of fire for as long as he could.

“We’ve taken notice that a new nephilim has been created,” Hannah finally explained, though she didn't sound like she was giving Castiel information that was supposed to be news to him at all. That sharp edge to her words was still there, present in every syllable that rolled off her tongue, which made it clear that she believed Cas to already be aware of everything she was saying. She actually even sounded a bit annoyed that Cas was making her explain the situation to him. “It hasn’t been born yet, but it has been gestated in secret, hidden from Heaven, up until approximately its fifth month.”

“And you need help finding it?” Cas asked, surprise strongly present in his voice, coating every word perfectly, and wow, he was really going for that bluff, wasn’t he? Dean knew that angels could turn off Angel Radio if they wanted to, and apparently that was the idea Cas was trying to convey here—he was apparently pretending that he’d completely severed his ties to Heaven and that he had no idea that they were even having an issue with a nephilim to begin with, like the whole situation was news to him, which actually made sense, if you thought about it. He’d been kicked out of Heaven, so Cas had no reason to keep the radio thing on anymore, as there was no reason for him to keep himself informed about what those winged dicks were doing up there. Dean assumed Cas had only been keeping the thing on at all because of their worry for the baby, because of course Cas would want to hear the alarms ringing if Heaven were to ever find out about the nephilim.

Which, in the end, had been exactly what had happened, as Cas had told him. The seraph had apparently heard the exact moment when Heaven had learned about the nephilim; had heard their alarms ringing loudly inside his head, as well as their surprised commentary and their initial planning to find the baby.

Dean wondered if he would have been able to hear it, too, had he been conscious at the time, and not drugged and tied to a chair back at the Styne mansion. But even if he had heard all that commotion, would Dean even have been able to understand it? Because he was pretty sure that the angels talked in Enochian through their radio thing. He wasn't certain of it, though, and he had never actually asked Cas about how the thing worked, either. Maybe he should question Cas about it later.

Another pause followed, and Dean was pretty sure this one was caused by the angels’ surprise. He imagined Hannah was having trouble processing Cas’ attitude, most likely struggling to decide on the right way to proceed. She probably wasn’t sure how to deal with a situation like this one, because obviously they hadn’t expected Cas to be acting like this—so confidently (and convincingly, really) oblivious and confused about everything, and that had to be a good sign. Maybe this could work.

Maybe. Dean still wasn’t feeling all that hopeful about it.

“No,” Hannah finally concluded, “Actually, we believed we might find the hybrid once we found you, Castiel.”

Now it was Cas’ turn to pause, but Dean had a feeling the short moment of silence that followed might actually be part of the bluff. He could almost see Cas’ frown, confusion falling over the angel's features like a mask, his head tilting to the side as he considered Hannah’s words, as though he was trying very hard to figure out how she could have possibly gotten to that conclusion, like the statement had truly caught him off guard.

“I’m afraid you’ve been misguided,” Cas finally said, his tone calm and controlled, though there was still a clear hint of surprise to his voice. Also, the angel actually sounded a bit offended now. “Do you honestly believe there could be a nephilim in this house?”

“We don’t know,” Hannah replied easily, the same sharp edge from before still very much present in her words. She was apparently not greatly affected by Cas’ fake surprise, either because she didn’t buy it or because she was just so strongly convinced he was guilty that she didn’t think she should bother to consider the alternative. Dean had no way to know which one was the case here for sure, and the doubt of it made him feel even more uneasy. “The signal for the hybrid has been cloaked again for almost two weeks now, so we have no way to track it directly. Call this… an educated guess.”

“And you need six angels in order to follow a guess?” Cas questioned, and Dean actually felt a little proud of just how easily the words seemed to be rolling off Cas’ tongue. Honestly, he was truly impressed with how believable the angel's words sounded, with how his tone turned out so unwavering and certain. There was actual disdain in his voice now, the offended edge even sharper, easier to detect, making his bluff all the more believable, and the heavy pause that followed told Dean that the angels might be pretty surprised by it as well.

Good. This might work. This might actually work. The fact that the angels were still willing to talk at all, that Hannah was still asking questions and that they hadn’t simply tried to kill Cas on the spot had to mean something, right? They had to be at least a bit dubious about Cas being guilty or not, or else they would have done something already. They hadn’t come here with actual proof, because they were clearly unsure on how to proceed with Cas acting this way. They had obviously not expected him to play the innocent card, and they’d apparently only based their 'educated guess' on their collective dislike for Cas, which meant they didn’t actually have anything truly solid to base their accusations on.

At least Dean hoped so, anyway. The angels hadn’t left yet, so maybe Dean shouldn't be allowing himself to grow so hopeful about this.

“Well, it is not an unfounded guess, if that’s what you’re implying,” Hannah explained, sounding almost offended herself that Cas was clearly questioning her judgment on the matter. “Two weeks ago, we checked the signal for both you and the nephilim, which told us that at the time, both you and the hybrid were at the same place—Branson, Missouri, to be more specific.”

There was another pause from Cas, and once more Dean found himself shifting uncomfortably on his spot, as he had no idea what that silence meant, or why exactly the seraph grew quiet right then. The hunter had no way to tell whether the conversation was going the way Cas had planned it to or not; if the pause was part of his bluff or if the angel simply didn’t know how to reply to that. Fuck, Dean really wished he could be out there, but his life wasn’t the only one he had to worry about here, so he couldn’t possibly take that risk. He had to stay here in this bedroom, hidden away from sight so that the baby was at least somewhat safe, although that was becoming harder to accomplish with every minute that passed, it seemed.

_Dean, make sure your amulet is inside your shirt and out of sight. And hide your stomach, please. You’re not showing too much, and they should not notice the bump or find it particularly odd, but we cannot take any risks._

Dean paused at those words, feeling his heart jump a bit inside his chest, because where the hell did Cas want to get with that? Dean had no plans of walking out of this room, even if he really wished he could, so why should he be worried about all of that? Just in case some angel suddenly wandered further into the cabin and found him here? Or maybe if the situation suddenly went south?

Maybe it made sense to be prepared, Dean supposed, but he had a feeling that wasn’t quite the reason why Cas was telling him to do all those things, and it was because of that doubt that Dean didn’t immediately move away from the door to do them.

_Cas, what are you planning?_

He got no response.

“We actually were in Branson a couple of weeks ago, but of course for no reason that involved a nephilim,” Cas said out loud, tone as calm and innocent as before, words still clearly laced with a hint of confusion, still keeping up the bluff remarkably well.

Dean would still be impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed that Cas apparently had no intention of explaining to the hunter what the hell he was planning to do.

“If you do believe it necessary, however,” Cas continued, “You’re free to check this house. I assure you, you will find nothing that you’re looking for here.”

Oh, so  _that_ was Cas' plan?

Dean’s heart jumped again at those words, a fresh wave of panic washing over his entire body at once, leaving him frozen and disoriented as his mind struggled to process what he’d just heard, as he tried to understand what the hell Cas intended to accomplish with that, because that offer made absolutely no sense to Dean. It seemed completely insane, actually, suicidal even, but as the seconds passed, the hunter realized that maybe he should have expected to hear something of that sort at some point. There was just no way their bluff would work if they didn’t offer any sort of proof to back it up, because the angels were definitely not going to simply believe Cas was innocent based only on his words, so of course they would want to check the house and look for an unconscious, weak human slowly being drained away by the nephilim growing in their womb.

They wouldn’t find that, of course, but they would find Dean, and at that thought the hunter felt his nervousness spike even more. What the hell was he supposed to do if that happened? Act confused? Just… stay here and pretend nothing was wrong? What the hell was he supposed to say? And he might be wearing the necklace, but what if the angels could feel the nephilim from this close anyway? He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t risk their baby’s life like that. He couldn’t—

 _They can’t feel the baby, Dean, not while you’re wearing that amulet, even if they're in the same room as you._ Cas’ voice filled his head before Dean’s internal turmoil could go on any longer, and the hunter wondered if the angel had received all his panicked thoughts. Probably, Dean reasoned.  _Also, you’re conscious, so they should not be suspicious of you. They’ve never dealt with anything like this before, so they should not feel the need to check whether or not you’re the one carrying the nephilim. They won’t even think of it._

Cas’ words did very little to soothe the hunter’s mind, even if everything the angel was telling him did make perfect sense. Dean just didn’t think this plan was a good idea at all. Too much could go wrong too easily.

But apparently Dean just wouldn't get a say in it.

"You know the consequences of lying to Heaven, Castiel. The severity of your punishment will only be increased at any attempt of deceit. The hybrid will die, no matter what happens, but any leniency that might have been extended to you will be revoked if we search this house and find what we're looking for. Now, I must ask you—what is your final answer? Do you still claim to be innocent?"

That whole speech was a lot more than Dean would have expected from Hannah right now, and while she seemed to be showing Cas another option—a hint of mercy, even—if the angel was honest with them, those words still set a weight over Dean's heart. They were final, like a death sentence, because in a way, that was exactly what they were. They could not take Hannah's offer and tell those angels the truth in order to have Cas' punishment reduced or revoked, because as Hannah had said herself, Heaven would kill the baby regardless of what happened here.

They had no other choice but to try to fool Heaven.

"You will not find what you're looking for here," Cas finally said, clearly on the same page as Dean, "I have not forcefully claimed an innocent human soul, nor have I created a hybrid that has for months been draining away a human life."

The word play was not missed on Dean, but even if technically what Cas had just said truly was nothing but the actual truth, Dean doubted that would make a difference in the outcome of tonight if the angels somehow learned what they were really dealing with here.

Silence took over the cabin once more as apparently Hannah considered Cas' words, and Dean took advantage of the pause to try and talk to Cas again.

_I don’t like this, Cas._

_I know, Dean. I do not like this either, but we need to convince them that there is nothing to be found in this house. We really have no other choice but to attempt to fool them. Evading Heaven will only get us so far, especially now._

Again, it made sense. Heaven wouldn’t give up easily, especially since apparently every single one of those winged bastards hated Cas and would not pass up the opportunity to see him dead, so those six angels out there would definitely not walk out of this cabin if there was even a tiny sliver of doubt left in their minds about Cas’ innocence, just because they were dicks like that.

And running wouldn’t get them far, either. If anything, it would only confirm to those bastards that Cas did in fact have something to hide, which was not what they should be doing right now. If there was even a small chance that they could convince Heaven they had nothing to do with the nephilim; if they could possibly get away from those angels peacefully tonight, even if only for now; if they could somehow fool those winged dicks, at least long enough for them to find Cas’ Grace and get rid of the Mark, then that was what they should do. This wouldn’t just go away, and Dean was very much aware of the fact that they would need to deal with the whole Heaven situation sometime down the road, because the angels would not simply forget about the nephilim, which meant they would definitely not stop looking for their baby, but they really should try to buy more time if they could right now.

This really was their best bet, Dean realized, as unhappy as it made him.

 _Okay,_ Dean finally conceded.  _What the hell do I do, though? Just wait for them to come here?_

Cas paused, apparently thinking the matter over for a beat.  _For some reason, Hannah seems hesitant about sending any of the other angels to search the cabin, so while we still have time, perhaps it would be best if you came out here instead of waiting for them to find you there._   _That way we could try and show them we have nothing to hide._

Somehow that seemed like an even worse idea than just waiting for some random angel to stroll into the room and find him here. And okay, Dean had been wishing that he could also be in that living room since the moment Cas had gone out there, true, but the hunter hadn’t truly considered doing it, and he hadn't walked out of this room until now for a very good reason. He knew he shouldn’t be anywhere near those angels, because he should not be putting the baby in harm’s way like that. One wrong move, one wrong word could cost them  _everything._  

This seemed like a disaster just waiting to happen.

But Cas did have a point, because this would indeed make their bluff even more believable. If they really wanted to play innocent here, if they really had any actual hope of fooling Heaven in any way, then they had to actually commit to it, and obviously it would be a lot less suspicious for Dean to walk out there instead of simply waiting back here and letting himself be found by some random wandering angel. Normally, after hearing such a loud bang echoing through the entire cabin, followed by the constant sound of voices talking loudly somewhere else in the house, Dean would certainly have gone to check and find out what was causing all the noise. And so that was exactly what he had to do; the part he had to play here—the confused hunter who had been abruptly woken up by a loud noise and had no idea what the whole commotion that was going on over there in the living room was about.

And since Dean was conscious and walking around, as healthy as he could be while still bearing the Mark and with Cas’ Grace burning out, the angels had no reason to think he was the one pregnant with a nephilim. They had no way to know, no way to feel it with the amulet still hanging from Dean’s neck, or at least that was what Cas had told him, anyway. They might not even give the hunter a second glance, and that was really what Dean was hoping for if he actually went out there—to have the angels pay close to no attention to him at all. And if they played their cards right, they might actually be able to pull this off. They just had to convince those winged bastards, keeping up the innocent facade for as long as they could, until the angels bought it fully, so that when they searched this entire cabin for a dying, fading human and found absolutely nothing of the sort, they would be left with no other choice but to leave.

Also, now that Dean thought about it, maybe it really would be better for him to be out there in the living room where everyone else was and not take the risk of being alone with one of the angels back here. He was still a bit dubious about them not being able to feel the nephilim from this close, even after having Cas reassure him that he should still be completely cloaked, so he probably shouldn't take that risk. He would just feel better if he was closer to Cas, and the baby would certainly be safer, too.

That really was the best option, wasn't it?

 _Please, Dean, be cautious,_  Cas reminded him.  _Hide your bump and your amulet._

 _Okay, yeah._ Dean found himself nodding lightly in agreement, even if Cas wasn’t there in the room with him to see it; even if he could already feel the anxiety and fear that had sparked to life inside his chest growing, burning stronger at the thought of being in a room filled with six angels who wanted him, Cas and the baby dead.

But Dean realized now that he had no other choice but to go out there at this point, so all he could do to make himself feel calmer about that idea was take a few precautions to lower the risks of it as much as he could, although unfortunately there really wasn’t much that he could do on that front. So without letting himself think too much about what he was about to do, he did as Cas had told him and checked to make sure the pendant of his necklace was hidden from sight inside his shirt, before quickly moving back over to the bed, resting a hand on the mattress beside him for support and carefully lowering himself to the floor so he could kneel in front of his bag.

He opened the zipper swiftly and reached inside, grabbing a flannel to throw over his sleeping shirt. Now, at a little under 21 weeks into the pregnancy—which according to his math put him somewhere between 15 and 16 weeks compared to a normal pregnancy—his bump was already starting to show, and looking straight at his bare stomach, there was just no way to miss it anymore. But the bump wasn't too big just yet, so if he threw one of the looser flannels he owned over it, Dean was pretty sure the angels should not notice it at all, or at least they shouldn't think too much of Dean being a bit bigger around that area, especially because they would not be looking for anything suspicious on a conscious, healthy human.

Both he and Cas had been sleeping properly clothed in this cabin, considering Cas was in no state to do anything strenuous at all and Dean just wasn’t willing to take that risk, so at least Dean wasn't buck naked right now. Unlike Cas, though, who had been choosing to sleep with pants on for the past couple of weeks, Dean was currently only wearing his black shirt and a pair of underwear, so he hurried to put on some pants as well—a pair of black sweatpants, since he couldn't really wear his adapted jeans anymore because they felt too tight, not to mention that the slightly baggy pants would probably conceal his belly better than jeans anyway.

And lastly, he decided to throw a jacket over everything to cover his bump even more, just to be sure, and he was happy to notice that you really couldn't see the bump at all with the jacket zipped closed. Also, the thing had a pretty big inside pocket, so that way he could hide Cas’ Angel Blade and take it with him as a precaution, because he'd feel way better knowing that he at least had a weapon to defend himself with.

He paused once he felt like he'd added enough layers of clothing to himself, glancing down at his now very well disguised bump, resting a hand on it in a silent apology, hating that he was once again putting their baby in danger. This whole thing was way too risky, and Dean knew that, but it was their only choice. They sure as hell couldn’t fight.

He repeated those words a few times inside his head, as though trying to convince himself that they were true and that they really had no other option here, but in the end that didn't make him feel better about this whole thing at all.

Still, once he was somewhat content with his state, with his bump covered by several different layers of clothing, with his amulet safely tucked away inside his shirt and Cas' blade hidden in the inside pocket of his jacket, and after yet again reminding himself that it really would be better if he didn’t wait to be found by some wandering angel, Dean finally managed to make himself step out of the bedroom, trying to look confident as he strode down the hallway and toward the living room, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Juliet following him silently.

Briefly, he wondered if he shouldn’t have prayed to Gabriel, but quickly he decided that maybe that wouldn’t be such a good idea. He remembered the time Cas had so easily heard him and Sam talking in another room while he’d been torturing one of Crowley's demons, back when the seraph had been under Naomi's mind control and they'd been looking for the Angel Tablet. Cas had been able to eavesdrop on the brothers' conversation so easily because he was, as the angel himself had reminded them, a celestial being, so maybe those six angels out there might be able to hear Dean talking, even all the way in that bedroom. And if they really wanted this whole bluff thing to work, well, maybe letting the angels know that they were calling out for help wasn't the best idea, especially because Gabriel usually didn’t answer prayers right away, or even at all sometimes.

It just wasn’t a risk Dean was willing to take.

"Very well," Dean heard Hannah's voice fill the air of the cabin once more, sounding oddly loud all of a sudden, her tone a bit impatient now, almost unhappy or annoyed. Her words seemed awfully final somehow, and Dean hated the sound of them right then, but he forced himself to keep walking forward. "If you still insist on claiming to be innocent, Castiel, then I'm left with no other choice but to—"

Hannah's words died in her throat the moment Dean came into view, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on him. Sam and Charlie (so she _was_ out here, then) looked particularly surprised to see him there, but fortunately they both hid their reactions quickly so that they went unnoticed.

“Hey, what’s all the fuss about over here?” Dean asked, lifting a hand to rub at his eye in an attempt make it look like he’d just woken up, even if he'd been completely alert for a while now. He did his best to look surprised once he took in the sight of the six angels standing as stiff as fucking trees by the broken door—four wearing female vessels and two male, and he guessed the one dude at the front of the group must be Hannah. The human frowned confusedly at them as he walked a few steps into the room, pausing when he was standing just beside Charlie, doing his best not to allow his steps to falter, much less let on that his heart was suddenly beating frantically inside his chest, so much that he could actually hear it. “What's going on here?”

The angels, however, barely paid Dean any mind, which was truly a relief. Their obvious lack of interest told him that they weren’t immediately suspicious of him, and that was a very good thing, because it meant that they really couldn't feel the nephilim, even from this close.

Instead of examining Dean, or even responding to his questions, their gazes locked onto something to his side, something closer to the floor, lower—the hellhound standing beside the hunter, Dean assumed. Every single one of the angels looked very surprised and confused to see Juliet, which was pretty understandable, but Dean did his best not to glance down at her as well. He wasn’t supposed to be able to see her.

The angel at the front seemed to recover from his (her?) surprise faster than the rest of the bunch, clearly losing interest in the two newcomers and glancing back at Cas to fix him with a particularly hard look, which the other angel held unwaveringly. "Ingrid, Cael," the one Dean assumed to be the leader of the group called without breaking eye contact with Cas, and yep, that was Hannah, "Check the house. You know what to look for."

Nothing happened for a moment. An awkward, tense silence took over the air of the room for a few seconds, until finally the surprise the angels had clearly felt upon seeing Juliet seemed to fade away enough for the two angels whose names Hannah had called out to move. One of them—the dude, whom Dean assumed was Cael—walked into the kitchen, while the girl walked past Dean and disappeared into the hallway behind the hunter.

Dean did his best not to tense up or show any sign of nervousness as the angel walked past him, getting a little closer than he would have been comfortable with as she did it, and he was pretty sure he did a good job of it.

Once the two were gone, one of the remaining angels broke the silence, though it wasn't Hannah this time. “Now, there are a few things that still don’t quite make sense,” the black-haired angel standing right beside Hannah announced. “If you truly are not guilty, Castiel, then why would you be hiding away in a cabin all the way in Canada? And more importantly, why would you have a hellhound with you?”

Dean glanced down at the floor beside his feet, though not on the side where he knew Juliet was standing, frowning, pretending not to know where exactly to look. He glanced back up at the angels a couple of seconds later, then looked down to the floor on his other side, as though having to follow their gazes to find the hound, but he made sure not to focus his eyes on Juliet exactly, but on a spot on the floorboards a few steps away from her, so he still wasn’t actually looking in the right direction.

“Oh, Juliet’s around here somewhere? I never know where she is. You know, with her being invisible and all.” Dean was actually surprised with how smoothly the words rolled off his own tongue, so much that he even gave himself a mental pat on the back because of it.

He was very careful not to glance at the others for reassurance or any kind of support, though, because that might ruin the bluff, and they couldn’t have that.

“Crowley left the hellhound here,” Cas was quick to say, before any of the other angels could reply to Dean’s comments. “She is here as a guard dog, in case the rest of the family you found dead back in Missouri somehow manages to find us here.”

Oh, so that was the story Cas was going for. Okay.

“Those men you found were part of the Stynes,” Sam provided, apparently also quickly picking up on what Cas was planning to do here, “You know, big, old family of psychos who use dark magic for power. Originally called the Frankensteins.”

The angels remained unimpressed, Dean noticed, but he did catch sight of a few furrowed brows, like they had no idea where Sam and Cas intended to take that story.

“We have heard of them,” Hannah conceded, “Though they’ve had close to no notable activity as of late, so I fail to imagine why they would be after you now.”

“Because we have the Book of the Damned,” Cas explained, “A very ancient, very powerful spell book, known to be able to undo any sort of curse. The Stynes, however, believe the Book belongs to them, and they are the very opposite of willing to share it.”

Hannah’s eyes were heavy as she fixated them Cas, as though carefully weighing his words in her mind, twisting each one of them around, picking them apart one by one and looking for any sort of flaw, until finally she tore her gaze away, moving it to rest on Dean instead, who did everything in his power not to shift or look even the slightest bit uncomfortable under her intense, inquiring stare.

“I assume you’re still bearing the Mark of Cain, then,” she commented, eyes oddly sharp as she stared at Dean.

He nodded slowly, resisting the urge to lift his hand and scratch at the Mark, and his voice came out just a little bit weaker than he'd meant it to as he agreed, “Yeah.”

Without another word, Hannah turned her head to look back at Cas, and there was something different about her stance as she did it. There was a hint of something... lighter in her gaze all of a sudden, like part of the hardness that had up until now been so heavily present in her eyes had for some reason melted away. Dean wasn’t sure what that meant, had no idea how to read Hannah because again, apart from Cas and Gabriel, all angels still acted like fucking robots most of the time, so normally it was a bit hard to guess what was going through their heads, but Dean decided to take the shift as a good sign.

She seemed to have believed everything they had told her so far, so that had to mean something. Maybe she was losing confidence. Maybe she was starting to think that she might have judged the situation a bit too hastily, that she could be wrong about this.

They might actually be able to pull this off.

The male angel walked back into the living room then, apparently having finished his search of both the kitchen and the basement, shaking his head in a negative response when Hannah gave him an inquiring look.

Her mouth turned into a thin line at that, and Dean felt some of his hope shrink, because she definitely didn't look pleased to learn that the guy had found nothing. But her demeanor changed again quickly, shifting into something close to simply calm and curious as she turned back to their group only a moment later to ask, “And why would Crowley leave one of his beasts with you here?”

Her tone didn't seem genuine, Dean noted, and neither did her expression. It was almost like a mask—it fell over her features easily, a facade of calmness built specifically to throw them off, to fool them as she carefully calculated her every word, her every move, like a venomous snake calmly studying its prey, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. It seemed as though she was trying to make sure that they wouldn't see the fatal blow she was clearly preparing for them coming, so that they would have no time to react when it finally happened.

Dean swallowed drily at the thought.

“Because he’s not interested in having Dean become a demon again,” Cas replied easily, without a beat, sounding just as calm as before, “He’s been… helpful, in a way. The Stynes took Dean in Branson and tried to bargain with us, demanding that we handed the Book of the Damned back to them in exchange for him. Crowley helped us rescue Dean from them in Hollister, releasing Juliet into their lair to clear the way for us, and I’m sure you must have seen the results of that when you stumbled upon what was left of the Stynes in Missouri. He’s the way through which we’ve been… ‘moving so fast’, as you pointed out, and he’s left Juliet with us here in case the Stynes became a problem again.”

Hannah took a moment to consider those words, as though yet again looking for any flaw in Cas’ explanation, any sort of inconsistency that might give away whatever hint of untruthfulness she seemed so invested in finding, but she didn’t seem to be succeeding at it.

The other angel chose that moment to stride back into the living room, and she, too, silently informed Hannah that she'd found nothing.

Hope began to flood Dean's chest at the sight of Hannah's frustrated expression, because during the moment that followed, she looked completely unsure of what to do. Her plan to find any actual proof that Cas had created the nephilim had clearly failed, and now she looked pretty lost on how to proceed.

This was working. This was actually  _working._ For the first time since those angels had first showed up here in this cabin, Dean actually allowed himself to believe that they might actually be able to pull this off, that they might actually manage to simply talk their way out of this one. He allowed himself to hope that they wouldn't need to  _fight._

Well, at least until Hannah pointed out, “That, however, does not explain the strong, heavy warding placed on this cabin. If who you’re running from is human, then why, exactly, would you need to cloak this cabin from Heaven, Castiel?”

The silence that followed wasn’t promising at all, and Dean felt his hope deflate, shrinking down to nothing like a dying, wilting flower. Mentally, he cursed Hannah for being so fucking observant, even though maybe he really shouldn’t have expected anything different from her, shouldn't have allowed himself to grow so hopeful about this whole bluffing idea to begin with. They just weren’t lucky enough to have _anything_ go right for them, it seemed, which definitely should not be news to Dean at this point.

“The warding doesn’t simply keep away angels, but basically anything that might try to find us here,” Cas replied easily, without faltering, “We decided to be thorough, as I’m sure you must understand.”

Hannah paused, once more just  _staring_  at Cas, and Dean could almost see the cogwheels turning inside her head. It was a long shot, of course, and Cas’ reasoning had way too many flaws, but Hannah wasn’t immediately calling him out on it, so maybe Cas’ confidence had sold his poor attempt at an explanation well enough that Hannah might actually fall for it.

Again, maybe Dean shouldn’t be so willing to hold on to such a thin, weak thread of hope, but he couldn’t help it. There was just too much at stake here.

“Enough,” one of the female angels to Hannah’s right said all of a sudden, the same one who had spoken earlier, stepping forward without a warning. Her eyes were hard, focused on Cas in a way that made it look like all she wanted to do right then was step on him and squash him like a bug, which didn’t seem promising at all. “There is one quick, easy way to settle this matter, Hannah, and you know it. I advise you to follow through with it.”

Oh, Dean really didn’t like the sound of that.

Still, he did his best to conceal his reaction to those words, to seem calm and not like his heart suddenly felt like it wanted to try and jump right out of his chest as he waited for Hannah's response.

“Indeed, Ariel,” Hannah agreed, tone so infuriatingly pleased that Dean suddenly wanted to punch her right in her stupid fucking mouth. She glanced to the side at the other angel—who looked nothing like a friendly animated mermaid, Dean thought bitterly—for only a second before she turned those sharp, measuring eyes back to Cas. She took a few steps forward, until she was standing right in front of him, and Dean couldn’t help but tense up even more at the sight.

Juliet growled lowly in her throat as she watched Hannah move closer to Cas, but fortunately she didn’t attack. A few of the angels glared in her direction, and apparently their aprehension toward her had faded by now, because suddenly they all looked like they were disgusted by what they were seeing instead of feeling fearful or hesitant, which actually made Dean kinda want to punch them all as well, but of course he didn’t do that.

Fortunately, Dean didn't need to shush Juliet this time, because soon enough the hellhound stopped making noise without any prompting, and all the angels moved their gazes away from her as soon as she grew quiet again, turning their attention back to Hannah.

Cas didn’t even flinch as Hannah stepped closer to him. He simply stared at her right in the eye, and his confidence didn't seem to waver for even a single second, which may very well be the most impressive thing he'd done tonight.

Dean wished he could have that much control, but his stomach was currently completely tied up in knots, so he doubted he could manage something like that at this point. He chanced a glance over at Sam and Charlie, and he found that they, too, didn’t seem all that confident about whatever was about to happen here.

The sight did the very opposite of soothing Dean's mind.

“If you truly have nothing to hide, Castiel,” Hannah started, and her voice was oddly sharp all of a sudden, that same accusing harshness from before lacing her words once more, which had Dean feeling even more anxious, because he didn’t like her new tone at all. He had a very bad feeling about this. “Then you have no reason not to allow me to look into your Grace.”

Oh, yeah, this was not going to end well at all.

“So you still think that I might have actually created a  _nephilim?”_ Cas questioned, voice still convincingly strong, but already Dean knew that the lie wouldn’t stick anymore. Hannah had cornered them. Maybe they might have been able to pull this off before, but that damn Ariel bitch just had to have opened her big fucking mouth.

“Maybe you have, maybe you haven't,” Hannah said calmly, “But if your claims are indeed truthful, then you have no reason to fear another angel looking into your Grace to check if there is a human bound to you, or a hybrid siphoning your power to grow. Unless you do have something to hide, of course.”

The tension in the room seemed to reached extremely high levels in just a matter of a few seconds. Dean’s own muscles were incredibly tense by now, ready for a fight to break out at any second, but he forced himself to stay still, to simply wait for whatever was about to happen to play out right in front of his eyes. He had no fucking idea what exactly would be happening next, all he knew was that he definitely wouldn't be happy with it and that he had no fucking way to stop it.

Lately, that seemed to be how Dean felt pretty much all the time, honestly—helpless, with close to no hope of finding a way to fix any of their problems, so it really wasn't much of a surprise that things were not different at all for him in that moment. That was just how things were, apparently.

But that didn’t mean Dean hated this whole thing any less.

“What the hell do you all have against Cas?” Sam’s voice startled Dean, sounding just a little too sharp and loud, and the older Winchester quickly turned his head to look at his brother, surprised. He had certainly not expected to hear such a thoughtless outburst from Sam, but then again, the situation truly was calling for desperate measures at this point, so Dean kinda got where his brother was coming from. He was probably trying to give Cas more time to think, to distract the angels for just a little longer, hopefully until someone actually figured out a better way to deal with the situation.

Not that trying to stall even more than they already had would help much, anyway. By now, Dean was pretty sure that there really wasn’t a way for them to get out of this one without a fight. It wasn’t like they could just banish all those damn angels, not with Cas here, because Dean _definitely_ did not want to relive what had happened a couple of weeks ago after the whole thing with the Stynes.

Not to mention that an angel banishing sigil might also hurt the baby, considering that the nephilim was half-angel and that Dean would be within range this time.

And if that sigil had done so much damage to Cas, Dean didn’t even want to think about what it could do to their baby.

“After everything that he's done for you, for Heaven,” Sam went on, “You still exiled him, kicked him out like a sick, dying dog. And then the moment something happens, he's the one you automatically blame for it. How does that make any sense? Does it seem fair to you at all?

“This is not about fairness, Samuel,” Hannah replied harshly, “This is about following our Father’s rules, which dictate we must kill any offspring that may be produced between an angel and a human, as well as its creator. We did not instantly deem Castiel guilty, and in this moment, we’re giving him the chance to prove himself innocent. If there is indeed no blame to be placed here, then we will leave.”

It made sense, it really did. Surprisingly, Hannah was actually being a lot more reasonable than Dean had expected her to.

But the problem was that there  _was_  something for Heaven to find here. They would not deem Cas innocent if they knew the truth, no matter how peculiar their situation may be.

Cas hadn’t moved at all since Hannah had walked closer to him, and Dean did kind of wish for him to step away from her, to put some distance between them just in case, but maybe that would only make her even more suspicious of him. Not that trying to avoid that would do much of anything at this point, either, because clearly keeping up appearances would only postpone the inevitable here. Apparently, all they could do right now was brace themselves for the impact Dean knew was about to come at any second now—specifically, the moment Hannah realized that Dean was the one carrying Cas’ child.

And then hell would certainly break loose in this living room.

And Dean was so not looking forward to that. He was just glad he’d thought to bring Cas’ blade out here, but that also meant that Cas didn’t have a blade of his own right now, a thought that now weighed even more heavily in Dean's mind than it had before. At this point, a fight seemed almost unavoidable, and that realization caused the hunter's worry to grow even sharper inside his chest, painful even.

This was not going to go well.

The silence that followed Hannah's words was heavy, and Dean tried not to fidget, tried not to look nervous, but that was getting increasingly hard to do, it seemed. He knew his jacket was hiding his bump very well, but he had to constantly remind himself not to rest his hand on his stomach—something he seemed to be doing more and more lately without even thinking about it—because  _that_  would just give everything away right then and there.

The angels' stare was unwavering. They were standing like a united front—tense and unmoving, clearly ready to pounce at any second now, which was a very terrifying thought. Dean had a feeling everything could change at any second now, at the blink of an eye, and his stomach sunk at the thought, his panic rising with every beat of his heart.

Fuck, how the hell were they going to get out of this one? How the hell could they even—

“Or how about you leave us alone, for once?” Sam insisted, even if he certainly realized just how pointless that was right now, “How about when you fucking say that you want nothing to do with Cas anymore, you fucking keep your word? Because this is certainly not a way to—”

“Enough!” Hannah exclaimed sharply, and quickly, before anyone could even process what she was doing, her hand darted forward, aiming to grab Cas’ arm.

And Cas did yank his arm back, trying to get it out of Hannah's reach, but of course he was way too weak to have a fast enough reaction to successfully accomplish that, so Hannah still managed to get a hold of his wrist, which was apparently already enough for whatever she had intended to do.

And in the next second, Dean felt a stab to his heart as Hannah presumably probed into the bond, the pain of it so strong that he actually doubled over, feeling all the air leaving his lungs at once. He gasped, surprised, struggling to breathe as though there was a hand wrapped around his throat, pressing down and trying to make him suffocate. His heart picked up a much faster pace way too quickly, and suddenly it was beating even more frantically than before inside his chest, desperate and painful, like there was something digging right into it, driving deeper and deeper into the tissue with every beat. He lost his balance and leaned a bit too much to the side, searching for something to lean on, to support himself against, and he would have actually fallen to the floor if Charlie hadn’t been quick enough to step over to him to hold him up.

But of course, that was the least of their problems right now, because when all the pain faded without a warning only a moment later and Dean looked back up, panting and gripping Charlie's arm to keep himself steady on his feet, he found that  _all_  eyes in the room were on him.

“You,” the Ariel bitch breathed out, eyes so wide they looked just about to jump right out of their sockets, “You’re…” She seemed unable to actually finish that, like she couldn’t quite push the last word past her lips, but then again, that wasn't exactly surprising. Of course this had caught them all completely off guard.

Hannah, too, seemed pretty much speechless. She was apparently so shocked by what she'd seen in their bond that she’d loosened her grip around Cas’ arm, enough so that he'd been able to yank it free from her grasp at some point, which must have been the reason why the pain had stopped so abruptly. And now all she seemed able to do was stare, wide brown eyes focused on Dean like she was trying to figure out if he was truly real, or if he could possibly be some sort of mirage, an illusion, a hallucination, a ghost—anything else other than an actual living, breathing human.

The moment dragged on for what felt like an eternity and a split second all at once, like an endless staring contest that lasted for no more than a fleeting instant, until finally the spell was broken. Without a warning, the intense confusion the six angels had clearly been feeling and that had momentarily rendered them completely frozen, that had apparently glued them to their spots, seemed to drain away all at once. And in one, fluid motion, as though they were all part of one single being, as though they all shared the same mind somehow, they all pulled out their blades.

And just as Dean had predicted, all hell broke loose.

Cas was quick to push Hannah away, and since her attention had apparently been too focused on Dean for her to see the shove coming, she stumbled backwards, clearly surprised. There was another angel quickly moving toward Cas, though—a redhead with sharp green eyes and short hair, her blade raised and ready to deliver a killing blow. Fortunately, this time Cas had a couple of extra seconds to react, so he managed to move fast enough, leaning back and away from the lethal swing of her blade in the exact right moment, then gripping her arm and twisting it behind her back with practiced ease, causing her to drop her weapon to the floor by their feet, and it clattered loudly against the wood. However, Cas was still way too weak, and his opponent managed to get out of his hold in a second, turning her body just enough so that she could get a good hit of her bony elbow against his nose, knocking Cas off balance and sending him reeling backwards a bit, and yep, Dean felt that one.

The hunter's hand flew up to grip his own nose, and even though what Dean received through the bond was nothing more than a phantom sensation, it still felt as though the cartilage hidden beneath his own skin had truly cracked under the hit.

Cas' pain was very much real, though; strong enough that the angel was way too slow to recover from it, and that meant he was not quick enough to dodge the punch the redhead delivered to the side of his head next, or the kick to the chest that came right after, which sent him flying backwards a few feet. He landed right on top of the coffee table, right onto all the papers, books and laptops that had been spread over the surface, causing the wood to break under the force of the impact, easily crumbling down to pieces under the angel's weight, as though made of glass.

Dean's head was suddenly pounding and the air was knocked right out of his lungs because of those blows, and he was completely frozen in his spot as he watched all that happen, unable to do anything to help, but fortunately all eyes in the room had apparently been on Cas up until that moment, eager to see if the redheaded bitch would manage to kill him.

But that didn't happen, and apparently that realization was all it took for the attention of most of the angels in the room to shift.

Hannah and the redhead still seemed to be focused on Cas, though—the redhead had apparently picked her blade back up from the floor, while Hannah also currently held hers firmly in her hand, and with their weapons held high and ready, the two were now walking closer to where Cas still lay on the floor, on top of the pile in the center of the room that consisted mostly of papers and broken wood. Dean felt his heart climb up to his throat as he watched Cas struggle to get back to his feet, but after a second the human realized that he really shouldn't be focusing so much on that fight right now, because there were four other angels in that room, and once he finally chanced a glance at them, the hunter noticed that their gazes were now all focused on  _him._

The angels still hesitated for a moment, like they weren't sure what they should be doing, until two of them seemed to snap out of it and began walking toward him, blades gripped tightly in their fists, eyes sharp and murderous, fixating their gazes on him with the same dangerous focus a starving tiger would to its prey.

So Dean didn't see what happened to Cas next, because he knew he had to act fast himself. Without a thought, feeling his entire body easily slip into a familiar fight stance, muscles tense and prepared for whatever he would need to deal with, he pulled out Cas' Angel Blade from inside his jacket, but that didn’t seem to be enough to make the two angels stop or even hesitate. Even if Dean now held a weapon himself, the pair continued to valiantly take the few steps that still separated them from the hunter without a single change in their quick, confident stride.

And that was when Juliet decided to pounce.

With a loud, angry growl tearing out of her throat, the hellhound crossed the space between Dean and the two approaching angels. She did it easily, heavy, strong paws thundering against the floor loudly, sharp claws scratching at the wooden boards she stepped on, and in a second she was jumping, almost effortlessly leaping a good seven feet up in the air and landing right on top one of the angels, the same one who'd gone to check the bedrooms—Ingrid or whatever. She wasn’t quick enough to lift her blade to try and hit the hound with it, so Juliet landed on her without a problem, powerful paws hitting the angel right on the chest. Ingrid lost her balance, falling backwards, and both she and Juliet ended up on the floor with a loud thud. The hellhound's angry snarling didn't stop for even a single second as it happened.

The scene seemed to be enough to prompt the other two angels who had stayed behind to move, and in the next moment, there were three of the winged bastards coming toward Dean. His hold on his blade grew tighter at the sight, fear for the baby's safety quickly pouring into his gut, but he held his ground, waiting for them to reach him, even if he knew without a doubt that he definitely couldn’t take on so many at once. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be fighting one angel, let alone a whole fucking squad of them, because that would be putting the baby in far too much danger, but it wasn’t like he could just make a run for it now.

He just had to make sure not to take any blows to his stomach. He’d done that before—with the ghost hunt in Iowa, the fight against Cain and the brawl with the Stynes back at that store—so he hoped he could manage it again here, but the fact that he knew his bump might be exactly what the angels would be aiming for was the very opposite of encouraging.

Still, he lifted his blade, ready to deliver a blow as soon as he had to, which happened only a moment later.

The blonde reached him first, and Dean blocked her first blow almost effortlessly, pushing her blade back and away from his body with his own weapon. Wasting no time, he swung again quickly, moving his arm through the air in an arc and managing to make a deep, ugly gash right across her face, watching as light shone from the wound for a second. He didn't pause to dwell on it, though, quickly following the slash up with a kick right to her leg, causing it to buckle under the angel's weight. She still tried to regain her balance, but Dean used the handle of his blade to hit her right in the side of the head, and with a pained grunt, his first opponent fell to the floor.

But there were two more, and while Dean had been distracted with the first one, the pair that had been a little delayed in moving earlier finally reached him. The fucking Ariel bitch quickly grabbed Dean’s arm—the one that was holding his blade—before he could react and twisted it behind his back, forcing the hunter to drop his weapon, while the other angel—the Cael guy, Dean believed—lifted his own blade in the air, tip pointing down, aimed right at Dean’s heart as the seraph let his hands fall, quickly driving them toward his target.

And then Sam pounced on him, interrupting the angel's blow before he could actually manage to bury his blade right into Dean's chest and causing the two of them to fall to the floor. The blade flew from the angel’s hand as easily as if he hadn't been trying to hold it at all, sliding a few feet away from both of them once it hit the floor. Charlie hurried to follow the pair and join the fight that was certainly about to follow, and the last thing Dean saw from that particular scuffle was the redhead reaching for the abandoned blade, picking it up from the floor before the angel could.

A loud bang filled the air of the room without a warning, abruptly capturing everyone's attention, and Dean felt the air being pushed right out of his lungs yet again, like someone had just heavily run into him, or maybe shoved at his chest a bit too roughly. He turned his head to follow the source of the sound, and his heart leapt up to his throat again once he realized that there was one angel missing from the living room—specifically,  _Cas._  Dean let his eyes scan the room frantically, trying to find the angel, and quickly he noticed that there was a big irregular hole in the wall—close to where the front door used to be—where someone had very clearly been thrown through it. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened there, and Dean's worry grew even stronger when only a moment later he found himself watching as Hannah and the redhead calmly made their way through the empty doorway beside the opening Cas' body had apparently broken into the wood, surely to follow the other angel outside. They would probably find Cas hurt, most likely disoriented by impact of his body literally breaking through so many thick, sturdy wooden logs, as well as by the hard fall he'd surely suffered onto the ground out on the other side, and maybe he still didn't even have a weapon, Dean didn't know.

Those thoughts made Dean's panic rise in his chest, made the air thinner in his lungs, the doubt of what was about to happen to Cas sending a cold wave of fear washing over his insides, but as much as he wished he could go out there himself and make sure that Cas would be okay, Dean had no time to dwell on the matter, because he couldn't simply run off after Hannah and the redhead right now. All he could do was hope that Cas would be fine and that the angel had somehow gotten himself a blade by now. Dean couldn’t feel anything spilling into the bond in that moment, so at least the seraph wasn’t badly wounded, or maybe the hunter had simply been too distracted with his own brawl up until now to notice Cas getting hurt. Now that he thought about it, the impact against the wall was the first thing he'd felt from Cas since the angel been thrown onto the coffee table earlier, and the human wasn't sure if he could really trust that right now.

He swallowed drily at that thought, but hurried to push it away for now, and using the brief distraction provided by that whole commotion to his advantage, Dean used his free arm to knock Ariel back, planting a strong hit of his elbow right in her stomach. She released him, startled, stumbling backwards a bit, and Dean twisted his entire body swiftly, moving as fast as he could as he tried to take the chance provided by Ariel's momentary disorientation to rip the angel's blade right out of her hand, but she was too quick to regain her balance and recover from the hit. Her free hand shot up and wrapped itself around the hunter's wrist before he could get a hold of her blade, grip firm and strong as she attempted to hold him in place, swiftly moving the hand that was still holding her weapon away from his reach.

And then she swung it back down, aiming at his torso.

Dean's other hand shot up just in time to stop the blow of the blade that had been about to hit his side, gripping Ariel's wrist in place just as she was doing with his, gritting his teeth together because of just how much of his strength it took for Dean to actually manage to keep that blade away from his body. They struggled like that for a moment, stuck in a battle of balance and will, but while the Mark and Cas' Grace did make Dean stronger than a normal human, apparently he still wasn't as strong as an angel. He did successfully stop his opponent's weapon from slicing at his torso, true, but he was focusing all his strength on that particular task, which meant he didn't have enough to spare to even try to stop Ariel when she started to push him back. He struggled to keep his balance as they moved, and all he could do was try not to fall as he was forced to take several steps back while they continued to fight for control of the situation, until Dean felt his back hitting a wall with a bit more force than he thought would be safe for the baby.

A startled huff jumped from his mouth when it happened, and he froze for a moment, silently hoping that the muscles on his back had received most of the impact. Much to his relief, he didn't feel anything bad or worrying in the seconds that followed—no pain or odd sensation came from his abdomen, so he assumed the baby was fine.

Ariel used that moment to her advantage, though. Dean's focus shifted from his struggle against the angel for only a moment, just a few seconds during which everything else was overridden by his worry for the baby's safety, but that was already enough to give the angel a chance to finally yank her wrist free from the hunter's hold. However, instead of hitting him with her blade like Dean would have expected her to, she held the weapon up, brushing the edge of it against the human's throat, though not pressing it against his skin enough to actually produce a cut. It was only a means to keep him in place, to ensure that he wouldn't struggle against her and try to break free.

And it worked, of course. As soon as Dean felt the press of the cold metal against the skin of his throat, the sharpness of the blade that could so easily take his life right then and there, he froze, unmoving, entire body tensing up in expectation as he cursed the bitch silently in his head.

"You know, I never understood what Castiel saw in you and your brother in the first place, why he insists on keeping such pathetic little humans around," Ariel said, lifting her blade even more, and the hunter tilted his head back a bit to make sure that the edge wouldn't actually cut his flesh. "You Winchesters are really nothing special. The praises, the stories, the  _myths_ —that's exactly what you two are, and nothing more."

Dean wanted to struggle against her hold. He wanted to push her back, to do anything he could to break free from the trap she'd cornered him into, but he knew he couldn't take the risk of doing anything too abrupt. Ariel had released his wrist at some point, so both his hands were now lowered by his sides, palms flat against the wall behind him, completely still and useless, and he knew he couldn't move them now. She would be able to tell that he was about to try something before he could actually do it, so he couldn't risk it. And he didn't have much wiggle room to work with anywhere else either, because she was using the arm that wasn't holding her weapon to keep him in place against the wall, pressing the side of her forearm firmly against his chest, and that meant the human would have to fight to break free, to push her back somehow. But that blade could cut his throat right open far too easily at even the smallest wrong move, and then it would be game over—for him, Cas and the baby. That wasn't something he could gamble with, and he was painfully aware of it.

It was a good thing that Ariel seemed to love the sound of her own voice, though, because she was at least giving him time to think, to try to figure out a way out of this situation while he still could. She could have killed him already if she wanted to.

"I mean, look at you," she continued, letting out a dry chuckle as she lifted her blade a bit higher one more time, and just like he'd done before, Dean followed the movement so that the blade wouldn't hurt him, tilting his head back even more. "All you hear these days is how whenever the Winchesters are involved, you have to be careful. How you two do the impossible and somehow always,  _always_  come back. You two threw Michael and Lucifer into the Cage, survived the war against Raphael, defeated the head Leviathan and killed the last two Knights of Hell in existence. But what I'm seeing here?" She shook his head, huffing at him, the corner of her mouth going up just a little in what he assumed was supposed to be amusement, but the expression didn't come out quite right. "You can't even beat one single measly little angel. Who would have thought?" She hummed, leaning in a bit closer to Dean, letting her voice lower in volume, and the human did his best not to flinch as she moved. "So it seems to me like you and your brother are really not everything that all those stories make you out to be. You're like cockroaches—you survive apocalypse after apocalypse, and you do cause a bit of a problem whenever you decide to show up again, but in the end, there's nothing grand about you Winchesters, nothing special. You're just two annoying, stubborn, useless little bugs."

Dean knew what was coming next, knew that Ariel would pull that blade away any second now to drive it into his chest—actually, no, she would probably bury it in his belly, to make sure the nephilim would die with him.

And that meant that he had to act fast. Clearly no one would be coming to his aid, as Sam, Charlie and Juliet were probably still too busy going up against their own opponents, so Dean would have to get out of this one by himself. He had to do something, had to somehow find a way to break free, and he had to do it now. And because he was very much aware of that fact, during Ariel's whole speech, Dean hadn't really paid much attention to the endless string of words tumbling out of the bitch's mouth. No, instead, he'd been thinking, his mind racing, calculating his chances, trying to come up with a plan, with any idea that might actually work, desperate to find a way to save himself and the baby.

And in the end, he did have an idea. It was long shot; truly the last resort of a desperate, dying man, but he had to give it a try. It was really the only thing he could do at this point.

So he looked down, trying not to move his head so he wouldn't press his throat right into the edge of the bitch's blade as he glanced at Ariel's face. The angle was a bit uncomfortable now, awkward, but he could still see her. He noticed the pure, raw anger in her eyes as he briefly took in the sight of her face, but he didn't stare at her for longer than a second before he looked away, instead glancing over the angel's shoulder. He focused his gaze on the empty air just behind her and smirked, pouring every single ounce of energy he could find in himself to fake the confidence he would need to convey in order to successfully sell his bluff.

"Get her, Juliet."

Ariel's eyes widened, and she turned around quickly, without a thought, it seemed. There was nothing for her to see there, of course, as Juliet was still busy biting at the first angel she'd pounced on minutes ago, but the distraction was already enough to lower Ariel's guard. The arm that had been pinning Dean to the wall fell to her side as she turned around almost fully, and the one holding the blade to his throat relaxed enough so that the weapon even lowered a bit, coming to carelessly hang by the hunter's collarbone instead, hovering almost loosely in front of his body.

Dean took his chance.

Before Ariel could turn back around once she realized that she'd been fooled, Dean lifted his hand to push the arm holding the blade away from himself, and just as Ariel tried to turn back around and regain control of the situation, Dean gathered all the strength he could find in himself and sent his other hand swinging through the air, aiming right for the angel's face and delivering a powerful punch straight to her jaw, which sent her reeling backwards and away from him a bit, stumbling to regain her balance and avoid falling to the floor.

Taking advantage of Ariel's sudden disorientation, Dean moved forward, finding that her grip on her weapon had loosened considerably, enough so that this time he successfully managed to snatch it from her hand, wasting no time to bury the blade right into her chest before she could even react.

The room lit up in light as Ariel died, and Dean was kind of surprised to notice that the light from her Grace burning out didn’t hurt his eyes at all.

He did, however, hear a scream—an ugly, loud, high-pitched sound that certainly couldn't have been made by a human throat and that sounded like nothing Dean had ever heard before. It was filled with so much pure, raw  _agony_  that it sent a chill down Dean's spine. In a weird, bizarre way, he felt like that scream resonated with something deep within him, something hidden in his very core, like if he paid enough attention or at least knew where to look, he could also feel part of that pain; a weak, faint echo of it somehow. He had no idea what to make of that feeling.

Fortunately, the sound faded with the light, and Dean was really glad for that, as well as for the fact that the brightness didn’t momentarily blind him at all, because all of that allowed the hunter to realize that the blonde angel he’d dropped earlier was back to her feet and holding her blade again. She seemed to have recovered from the disorientation caused by the strong hit Dean had delivered right to her temple earlier, and apparently she had chosen to simply stand back during the fight between Dean and Ariel, maybe because she'd hoped her friend might be able to kill him on her own, or maybe she just didn't want to interfere, he had no idea. Once their eyes met, she allowed her gaze to linger on him for only a second, before moving it to Ariel's limp, lifeless body, which hadn't even yet fallen to the floor by the hunter's feet, as instead it remained supported in the air by the sharp strip of metal still buried in her torso. The blonde's grip on her blade was tight, her knuckles white, anger clear in her eyes as she took in the sight of her dead friend.

One down; five more to go.

Dean hurried to pull the blade out of Ariel's chest, causing the dead angel to finally fall to the floor, before holding the weapon in front of himself, tip angled forward and aimed at the other angel, ready for whatever his new opponent might try. He realized then that the Mark was burning, praising him for the death of Ariel, encouraging him to repeat the feat, asking for more blood. It snarled at him, whispering, demanding,  _ordering,_ and it was surprisingly hard to push it away right then, but Dean forced himself to ignore all that and focus his attention on the blonde angel who was currently glaring at him from about ten feet away, gaze sharp and glued to him with a dangerous, murderous fire burning in her eyes.

She didn't move for a while, though. Instead, she seemed to study him, calculating, as though considering her chances in a fight against him. Every now and then her eyes would flit down to find Ariel's body for only a second before she would move them back up to find the human's face. Behind her, Dean could see Juliet was still standing on Ingrid, her teeth still buried into the angel. The hound actually seemed to be chewing on something, though Dean couldn't really see what that was from here, nor did he think he wanted to know. And out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement as Sam and Charlie fought the Cael guy. He could hear a few huffs and blows coming from that direction, a few grunts of pain filling the air every few seconds, but he didn't dare look away from the blonde angel staring at him from across the room.

It took a while, but finally something seemed to change in the angel's stance. Her eyes grew harder all of a sudden, more concentrated somehow, her mouth turning into a thin line as she seemed to make a decision.

And then she started moving, striding toward Dean in a quick pace, her grip on her weapon still clearly tight. The look in her eyes was filled with something the hunter could only describe as hatred, and Dean could easily tell just by looking at her right then that all she wanted to do in that moment was bury her blade right into his heart the same way he'd done to her friend.

So Dean tensed up, body ready to fight again, muscles prepared to block whatever blow she might try to deliver once she was close enough, studying her movements carefully, trying to find some kind of pattern in the carefully calculated motions of her body in an attempt to predict what her first move would be when she got to him.

But in the end, she didn’t even reach him.

Juliet was suddenly on her, apparently having chosen to abandon her other chew toy and jumping onto the blonde's back from behind, her jaws closing around the angel’s shoulder, causing the seraph to scream out in pain as her flesh tore under all those powerful, sharp teeth. The blonde's knees buckled under their combined weight, causing her to fall to the floor, blade flying from her grip as she landed on her chest against the hard wooden floorboards. Blood quickly flowed out of the bite wound on her shoulder, staining the angel's clothes, splattering down onto the floor beneath her and painting Juliet's snout with more of the same strong, dark red that already coated her fur there as the hound moved her head from side to side to tear at the flesh stuck between her jaws even more, a loud, angry growl cutting through the air, coming from deep within her chest.

Dean simply watched the scene for a second, frozen, unsure if he should be doing anything to help Juliet, until suddenly he realized that there was another angel way too close to the pair. Ingrid had apparently lost an arm, which Dean could only assume Juliet had chewed off when she'd gotten her teeth into the angel earlier, because all that was left of it now was a bloody, uneven stump attached to her shoulder. But she still had one fully functional arm left, and with it, she held her blade raised high, ready to strike at the hellhound from behind with what Dean knew would most likely be a deadly blow.

“Juliet!” Dean called out, eyes wide as he hurried to step forward to try to reach them and stop the angel from harming the hound, but he didn’t get to them in time.

And even though Dean’s warning did get the hound’s attention, even if Juliet moved a bit to the side in reflex, head snapping around so she could find whatever threat might be making its way toward her in that moment, the angel still managed to hit her, burying her blade right into Juliet’s side.

The hellhound let out a loud, pained cry as she fell to the floor, causing what felt like a sharp, deep stab to Dean's chest, his heart nearly shattering into a million tiny little pieces at the sound of it. Without a thought, rage building up in his gut, hot and acid as it poured into his belly while the Mark howled in encouragement, he closed the distance between himself and the angel who’d just hurt Juliet, burying his own blade right into the damn bitch’s throat before she could even realize he was there, watching as her Grace also lit up the room around them.

He heard that same terrible, agonized scream from before, but this time, he didn't even flinch because of it. No, instead, he felt a sick satisfaction as he heard the sound, which should be worrying considering just how loud the Mark had suddenly gotten, but in that moment, Dean found that he didn't really care. And just as Ariel had only a few moments before, soon enough Ingrid fell down to lay unmoving by his feet with a dry, heavy thud.

However, he didn’t allow himself to stare, to bask in the rush that suddenly filled him at the sight of the two dead angels, even if that was exactly what the Mark was telling him to do. It burned even more now, and it was so much harder to push it away. The growling coming from the damn thing was even louder than the dying angels' screams, every cursed, venomous word that filled his head feeling truly painful at this point, like a hammer repeatedly trying to crush his skull.

But he ignored all of that for now, moving quickly as he spun around and dug his blade right into the other angel’s back, the one Juliet had jumped on and bitten before the Ingrid bitch had stabbed her, making sure that the third angel was limp and dead on the floor before finally turning his body back around to look at the trembling, whining ball of fur that Juliet had turned into.

The Angel Blade was no longer buried in her body, so Dean could see the wound clearly—it looked deep, but apparently it hadn’t been enough to kill her, and that thought alone was enough to take several pounds off his chest. She could still die because of it, though, a thought that hurt a lot more than he could have imagined it would. He hurried to kneel beside her—maybe a little too quickly, but he blamed the adrenaline for that—and she immediately started whining even louder. The dangerous, feral beast that she had become while defending him from the angels was now completely gone, having at some point given place to the lovable, sweet oversized puppy he'd come to know during the past few weeks, those big red eyes focused on him, begging for him to help her; to make the pain stop.

It was heartbreaking.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, slowly lifting his hand to pet her on the head. She continued to whine, and she actually tried to scoot a little closer to him, but Dean hurried to press a hand lightly against her side—closer to her neck and far enough from her wound so that it wouldn’t cause her any additional pain—and fortunately she understood the gesture and stopped moving. “It’s okay, girl. You’ll be okay. We’ll patch you up and you’ll be fine, okay?” He had no idea if she could comprehend exactly what he was saying, but she did stop whining, instead simply blinking up at him with those sad red eyes, so he assumed she might have at least understood some of it.

Light washed over the room without a warning, accompanied by the sound of a high-pitched scream filling the air of the cabin for the fourth time that night, and Dean’s head snapped around so he could find the source of both the noise and the brightness, even though he already knew what all that had to mean—another angel had died, and since there had been a total of one last angel left alive in that living room with them, then both the light and the scream could only mean that Sam and Charlie had finally won the fight against it.

And Dean had been right to think that. A few steps away from where he and Juliet were, Sam was lying on his back on the floor, his arms raised up and crossed over his face, trying to either block the light or an incoming blow, Dean had no way to know. Either way, whatever had been about to happen was prevented, and now the last angel fell to the floor limply, lifeless, leaving a panting Charlie standing above the body, the Angel Blade she had apparently driven right into his back and through his heart gripped tightly in her hand, stained with fresh crimson blood.

Charlie collapsed to the floor only a moment later, though, blade clattering loudly where she let it fall to the floor beside her. From here, Dean could see there was blood coating the lower half of her right leg. She rested a hand just below her knee, covering what Dean assumed must be a wound, grimacing in pain.

With his own breathing a bit heavy and his heart beating way too rapidly inside his chest, Dean finally allowed himself to truly look around the room, taking in the sight of the four dead angels that now lay scattered on the floor around him, feeling a bit surprised that their small group had actually managed to take on all of them. They had done pretty well in the fight, all things considered, even better than Dean had expected, since he himself shouldn’t even have been involved in any of the action to begin with, but as he glanced down at Juliet and then back up at Charlie, he reminded himself that they still could have done better.

And this wasn’t over just yet, either.

“Gabriel, now would be a very good time for you to show up,” Dean muttered, words rushed and urgent, before turning back to Juliet. “I’ll be back, okay?” Dean ran his hand over the fur on Juliet’s head once more, before reaching out to grab the Angel Blade he’d dropped after killing the blonde. With a grunt and moving a bit more carefully now, he lifted himself from the floor and back to his feet, and his heart felt like it turned to lead when Juliet immediately went back to whining, as though asking him not to leave her alone.

He had no choice on the matter, though, so he turned his back to her, glancing back over at Sam and Charlie. The girl was still sitting exactly where she’d been a moment before, but his brother had moved and was now kneeling right beside the redhead, apparently checking the wound on her leg. He pressed down on it and she yelped. Maybe it was broken.

Sam also hadn't gotten out of that fight unharmed, Dean realized. His brother had a trail of blood painting the left side of his forehead that the older Winchester had not noticed before, and he had the arm he wasn't using to examine Charlie's wound hugged close to his chest, like he couldn't move it, or at least like he knew it would hurt for him to do so.

Dean didn't have the time to comment on any of it right now, though.

“Juliet’s hurt,” he announced, which immediately caused two pairs of worried eyes to find him, “I’m gonna go out there to check on Cas. There's still two of them and he probably needs help." He gestured at Juliet, even if he knew neither of the two could actually see her without the hellhound glasses, and added, "Don’t leave her alone. She’s scared.”

Charlie and Sam didn’t seem happy at all to hear those words, and they looked just about to argue, but Dean simply turned around, tightened his grip on the blade he was holding and started marching over to the empty doorway right beside the Cas-shaped hole in the wall.

“Dean, wait!” Sam’s voice came from behind him, but Dean ignored his brother and kept walking.

And Dean knew too damn well that he shouldn’t be walking  _toward_  the danger—the single thought of doing that already had several alarms ringing inside his head, reminding him that he had to keep the distance between those angels and the baby to a maximum, but he had to see Cas; had to make sure he was fine. He knew Cas was alive, since he could feel it in the bond, so the hunter took comfort in that notion, but he still knew that he had to go out there to help Cas. Dean had not seen any light coming from outside, so that had to mean both Hannah and the damn redhead were still alive, and Cas was in no shape to fight two angels by himself.

It did occur to Dean then that neither was he, but he ignored that thought.

***~*~*~*~***

Castiel fell through a wall. Actually, no, the most accurate way to describe it might be that he was  _thrown_ through it, and of course Afriel had been the one to do it. Between her and Hannah, Afriel seemed to be without a doubt the most willing of the two to use brute force against him, most of the time a bit more than necessary, even, as though she did it not to fulfill her purpose here, but simply because she enjoyed inflicting pain upon him. She had put so much strength into throwing Castiel that he'd flown several feet through the air, and once he hit the wall, it broke easily under the impact caused by his body colliding against it so strongly, immediately crushing the thick wooden logs that the structure was made out of, breaking them down to pieces and lifting a curtain of dust up in the air in his wake as a considerate portion of the wall turned to nothing but useless splinters in the blink of an eye, as though part of a sand castle, weak and fragile, offering close to no resistance at all as he crashed into it.

He landed on something much softer than the wooden boards that covered the floor inside the cabin—earth, he noticed, which gave away easily under him, so much that he actually slid a few feet over it until finally he stopped moving, leaving behind a trail carved unevenly into the ground, marking his path. The blade Sam had pulled out from under the couch and rushedly shoved into Castiel's hand while the angel had still been inside had flown from his hand at some point during his fall, though fortunately it didn’t go far—it landed only a few feet away from his reach, close enough that he knew he could get a hold of it once he was back on his feet.

The fall hurt, of course. Both his body and Grace were in no state to deal with wounds like the ones inflicted upon him tonight, so the pain was in no way dulled as it would normally be—it seemed amplified, even, sharp as he landed on his shoulder and slid against the rough ground, enough to knock all the air right out of his lungs and make his head spin. However, even as disoriented as he felt, no matter how much pain he might be in, Castiel forced himself to push all of that away quickly. He knew he would not have the luxury of taking a moment to even his breathing and recover from being literally tossed through a wall and out of the cabin.

There would be no such luxuries extended to him by Heaven now.

So ignoring all the complaints he immediately received from his body, ignoring the constant ache he felt in every single one of his worn, spent muscles, the seraph somehow managed to lift himself from the ground and back up to his feet, as weak and unsteady as he felt once he was standing. His heart was beating too fast inside his chest, his breathing too heavy, struggled, and he knew too well that those were only two signs of the exhaustion that had been plaguing him since he had been banished. He truly felt like he was about to collapse at any second now—there was even a slight tremble to his limbs, the hold he'd had on his blade up until now far too feeble for him to actually do much damage with it. His head pounded in time with every beat of his heart, causing the world around him to go in and out of focus repeatedly and making it hard for him to fully regain his balance; his broken nose ached nonstop, the feeling of the drying blood that surely stained the skin under it mildly uncomfortable; his shoulder and side ached constantly, so much that he was almost certain he'd broken a few ribs when he hit the wall; the skin of his shoulder hurt too, a constant burn that led Castiel to assume some of his skin there had been scraped off while he'd slid against the rough ground; and his right leg struggled to support his weight because of the deep slash from Afriel's blade that he'd received right above the knee. The Grace within him wailed, crying,  _begging_  for him to stop, for him to not cause his body any more pain, to not bring his vessel any more wounds that it no longer had the power to heal.

But none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered was the fact that the lives of both Dean and the baby depended on Castiel staying alive and winning this fight, no matter how much he needed to push himself, no matter how impossible that seemed to him now, so he could not give up. He had to fight, for them.

For a short moment, Castiel was alone. There was no one else outside with him; his only company out there were the trees that surrounded the cabin, as well as the moon and the stars that adorned the dark sky above him, like bright white paint spots that had been carelessly splattered onto a deep black canvas, but that silent calm only lasted a few seconds. Far too soon, only a moment after he had managed to successfully lift his body from the ground, Castiel caught sight of both Hannah and Afriel walking out of the house, stepping carefully through the now empty doorway and out into the very limited open space that surrounded the cabin, blades gripped tightly in their hands, stances almost identical—bodies tense and clearly ready to deliver a deadly blow at any given moment, the second they had the chance.

So as fast as he could possibly manage, Castiel reached out, bending his body with great effort in order to grab his own blade from the ground so that he was at least armed, straightening back up quickly and holding the weapon in front of his body, ready for use in case either of them made another advance on him.

For a second, it registered in Castiel’s mind how it seemed ironic that Afriel, the angel of Youth, was here to kill his child, but Castiel pushed that thought away quickly. That did not matter right now, and he did not appreciate the irony of it in any way.

He probed at the bond before doing anything else, making sure that Dean and the baby were unharmed, as well as that Castiel's own pain was not currently flooding their link and troubling Dean's mind in any way. He hadn’t been able to check on them earlier, after Hannah had attacked the bond and forcefully reached out for both the human and the nephilim through the connection, although Castiel's Grace had immediately blocked most of whatever harm she could have intended to do to them when she’d let her own power flood the bond, taking the blow himself instead.

Now, he could finally tell for sure that they were both fine, but Dean’s agitation was also very clear through the bond, and at that feeling, the seraph wished he could be inside that cabin protecting them both right now. There were still four more angels in there, and that single thought alone already made a spark of fear come to life inside Castiel's chest, his worry for the safety of his mate and child loud and insistent in his mind, impossible to ignore, but all Castiel could do in that moment was hope that Dean and their fledging would be fine, and that Sam, Charlie and Juliet would do most of the fighting in order to keep Dean and the nephilim completely out of harm's way, although he knew the odds of that were rather slim.

And as hard as it was for him to accomplish it, Castiel pushed all those thoughts away for now, instead choosing to simply take comfort in the fact that he could feel that Dean and the baby were still both unscathed. None of that worry would matter if Castiel died out here, and he had to make sure that would not happen, though he did not believe he had much of a fighting chance at the moment, not as weak as he was.

But he still had to try. He would do  _anything_ to protect his family, to keep them safe, no matter what that may be.

“Hannah, please,” Castiel panted, lifting his free hand in front of his body and lowering the one holding his blade, letting it hang loosely and unthreatening by his side in what he hoped would be a gesture that showed Hannah he had no intention of harming either of them if they, in return, did not attack him again.

Fortunately, Hannah halted at the gesture, surprise flashing in her eyes as she frowned at him, studying his stance with careful, intelligent eyes, and he could easily tell his actions were not what she'd expected of him in that moment. Her grip on her own blade was still tight, however, muscles still obviously tense, weapon balanced perfectly in her hand to make sure she was ready to deliver a blow at any second if doing so became necessary, prepared to resume the fight as soon as the opportunity arose. Afriel also paused, of course, lingering unmoving by Hannah's side, as clearly she was not the one in charge and could not make the decision of continuing to approach Castiel by herself when Hannah obviously did not agree with it, although she looked the opposite of pleased by that.

Castiel had never really liked Afriel, and apparently he'd been right not to.

There was a moment of silence, and while the two  _had_  stopped walking closer to him, neither of them looked any less hostile, and Castiel felt his confidence waver at the sight. Fortunately, however, Hannah did not seem willing to attempt to press forward again anytime soon, which must mean something, or at least he chose to believe so. Instead, she remained frozen, still as a statue as she simply regarded Castiel, eyes hard and gaze unwavering, concentrated, as though attempting to read his mind, though he knew that was not what she was trying to do right then. He would feel it, if that was the case, and either way, it did not work that way. She was not allowed to do that, or at least not here. After Naomi's death, Castiel was not sure who that position had been filled by, who was responsible for all the mental inspection and manipulation that happened in Heaven, but he was fairly certain that Hannah had not taken over that particular role. Perhaps it was still empty, he mused.

The feeling of Dean's agitation pouring into the bond grew harder to ignore without a warning, strong waves of fear and panic suddenly flooding the connection, though Castiel could still feel Dean hadn't been hurt, so he did his best not to panic himself. Of course Dean would be feeling fearful, with so many angels around him wanting to kill him and their child. It was only rational, expected even, so Castiel should not be dwelling too much on the matter right now. Dean and the nephilim were still fine, the seraph reminded himself. He would be able to feel it otherwise.

Those thoughts were not enough to completely soothe his mind, but there was nothing else Castiel could do about it at the moment.

“Why did you do it, Castiel?” Hannah finally inquired, “Why would you do something of this sort? You  _knew_  the consequences, and yet you still—”

“I did not mean for it to happen,” Castiel was quick to reply, “I mean it, Hannah. None of this was planned, in any way. It just happened.”

“There’s no such thing as creating a nephilim by accident, Castiel, and you know that too well.”

“I thought I did, but this really is not what you think it is. I did not lie to you earlier, Hannah. I did not claim an innocent human soul to carry a hybrid that will end killing it when the nephilim is born.” Castiel shook his head lightly, slowly letting his other hand fall to his side, letting his guard down even more, and he took it as a good sign that Hannah did not try to take advantage of his vulnerability. It meant that he’d at least caught her attention, that there was enough doubt in her mind that she was willing to hear more, that she hadn't already completely condemned him.

There was still hope.

“You saw Dean,” he added, voice lower and gentler, “He’s healthy and conscious. He’s not being drained in the slightest. He’s bound to me, yes, but the connection is strong, and you know that. You felt it earlier. I actually tried to break it once, when it first happened, and the spell failed. There’s no foul intention in any of this, from either of us. Our souls are deeply bonded, and Dean is simply pregnant. At this rate, he will be able to carry to term and survive the birth. Is that not enough to convince you that our situation is not the same as all other nephilim occurrences that have been judged before mine?”

Hannah’s expression didn’t change, but Castiel took the fact that his words had yet again caused her to make a pause as a good sign. She wasn’t immediately discarding everything he said; she was considering every word carefully and with a clear hint of disdain, true, but the fact that she was considering them at all had to mean something. There was still a chance, and Castiel held on to that thought tightly, just as a drowning man would to a lifeline.

That analogy seemed oddly fitting here.

“And how do you propose this happened, then?” Hannah demanded, “How could you have possibly created a hybrid by accident?”

Before Castiel could respond, bright angelic light emerged from inside the house, flooding everything in sight for a moment as the anguished scream of a dying angel’s Grace cut through the air, signaling the death of one of the seraphs that had come with Hannah to this cabin—Ariel, specifically. The Grace inside Castiel howled in response to it, mourning, even if Castiel himself had no such feelings toward it; even if he received the knowledge that there was one less angel inside that cabin, one less threat to Dean and their fledging, with nothing but relief.

Both the light and the scream faded quickly and at the same time, though they were not followed by silence to Castiel. No, as soon as Ariel's essence, just like the one of so many other angels had in the last seven years, completely ceased to exist in this Universe, the Mark seemed to wake up, obviously pleased, ecstatic, euphoric even, which led Castiel to assume that Dean might have been the one to kill the seraph.

That thought alone was truly terrifying, because it meant the confrontation currently happening inside that cabin was not going the way Castiel had so vehemently hoped it would, but the angel did his best not to let his worry show, as well as to ignore the poisonous, sickening voice coming from the Mark as it currently whispered through the connection, filling his head with its seemingly endless words of encouragement, asking for—no,  _demanding_  more blood. The Grace inside of him complained loudly because of it, pained, exhausted, but Castiel had no other choice but to use some of the precious, meager amount of energy that still resided within it to push the Mark's ramblings away.

And it hurt, it hurt  _so much_ , but Castiel also guided his Grace into the bond for only a brief moment in an attempt to soothe his mind at least enough to lessen the worry burning in his chest and so that he could focus on what was happening out here, and it filled him with relief to find that Dean and the baby were still perfectly fine.

Neither one of the two angels standing before him glanced back at the cabin as Ariel died, as clearly they did not wish to tear their gazes away from Castiel, an obvious sign of their lack of trust toward him, though that was surely expected in a situation such as this one. Hannah actually had no reaction to the light and the scream apart from her grip tightening around her blade. Afriel's expression, however, turned even darker once the light faded, eyes growing heavier as the apparent hatred she felt toward Castiel seemed to strengthen.

It was not an encouraging sight.

The pair was clearly waiting for Castiel to speak again, apparently having chosen to completely ignore the death of yet another member of the Heavenly Host and to keep their attention focused solely on him. However, before letting out another word, Castiel paused to recollect himself, feeling the exertion his weakened Grace was being subjected to tonight even more strongly now. Every single second he managed to remain standing felt like a small victory to him at this point. He took in a few steadying breaths, trying to find the best way to respond to Hannah's questions, to voice his thoughts. Hannah wouldn’t understand any of it, of course, no matter how he worded it, and he knew that already. She had begun to express something when he'd been traveling with her here on Earth, something close to emotion, perhaps, but whatever that faint, weak spark growing within her back then had been, it seemed to be long gone now, replaced by the cold, emotionless rationality expected from the current ruler of Heaven.

So no angel could possibly understand that what Castiel had with Dean was not simply the claiming of a human soul with the intent to produce a hybrid, something as meaningless as a mating between angels. No angel could possibly comprehend how deep the bond Castiel shared with Dean truly was, or that there was so much more to their mating than even Castiel himself could truly wrap his mind around. Heaven would never understand that Dean and this baby were Castiel's  _family,_ and that they were truly  _everything_  to him.

But he had to try.

“We bonded and conceived naturally,” he finally said, voice growing firm, certain, unwavering as he tried to show Hannah that he was not being untruthful in any way, “It all happened on the same night, on the same instance. We didn’t mean for any of it to happen, either of us.”

Hannah and Afriel both looked confused at those words, but Hannah looked a bit more surprised by Castiel’s explanation than the angel standing beside her, which led Castiel to assume that at least Hannah had understood the meaning he'd wished to convey with those words but hadn't explicitly voiced. She frowned, eyeing him even more intensely, like he was a puzzle she was trying very hard to solve. She looked completely perplexed, as though Castiel had just said something utterly absurd; as though he'd just told her that he was the one carrying the nephilim and not Dean.

“So you’re implying that you claimed Dean Winchester’s soul and created a nephilim during sexual intercourse, is that correct?” she asked, disbelief dripping from every single word that left her mouth.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, even though he wasn’t exactly happy with the way Hannah said it; with the emptiness held in her words, the sheer lack of meaning she was giving to something that to Castiel meant so much. That night in Omaha had changed everything for him, so to hear Hannah summarize it so simply like that, like there was nothing special or unique about it at all, annoyed him. He wasn’t quite sure why that bothered him so much, because again, it wasn't like Castiel expected Hannah to understand what that night meant to him, but hearing her complete indifference still made him want to argue with her, to correct her on the importance that the event held for him.

But he didn't, deciding to remain quiet instead, as perhaps starting a discussion of that sort might not help him right now. Again, Hannah would not understand it, anyway.

Beside Hannah, Castiel saw Afriel purse her lips, clearly displeased with what she'd just heard, something very similar to disgust settling over features. She lifted her head a little higher, like she wished to look down on him, as though she'd taken the fact that Castiel had sexual relations with Dean as confirmation that she was superior to him somehow, that he was something to be despised.

Castiel's dislike for her had been steadily growing up until now, and that reaction only sped up the process even more.

“That’s not how it works, Castiel,” Hannah stated, "You know very well that nephilims are not conceived simply through coitus."

Before Castiel could respond, a fresh new wave of panic flooded the seraph's chest, the feeling so potent it was almost disorienting, though it very clearly did not belong to him. Once again, it was coming from the bond, and the angel froze at that realization, pausing to feel the connection more carefully, with attention, his own panic rising at the thought that something might have happened to Dean this time.

He was relieved to find that Dean was still unharmed, but that did very little to soothe his mind, because the feeling of panic didn't fade in the slightest as a couple of seconds passed, and that could only mean that there was something wrong, though the seraph had no idea what might be happening inside the cabin in that moment. Maybe someone else had gotten hurt, or maybe Dean was about to get hurt, Castiel had no way to know, a thought that had him growing worried once again. If only he could be there, then he could at least—

"Juliet!" Dean's voice suddenly cut through the air, shouting out the hellhound's name so loudly, with so much panic coating that single word, that the sound managed to travel out of the cabin and reach Castiel's ears.

And then Castiel heard a cry—a canine exclamation of pain, to be more precise, also loud enough to be heard from outside of the house, and instantly he knew that something had happened to Juliet.

Castiel felt his chest tighten at the thought, growing heavy with the guilt that filled him for not having been there to stop whatever had hurt the hellhound, and the realization that Juliet had probably been protecting Dean only made him feel even worse.

Light shone from inside the house once more, and once it faded, not even ten seconds passed before it happened again, which signaled the death of two more angels—Ingrid and Dina—leaving Cael as the last opponent for Dean, Sam, Charlie—and maybe Juliet, if she was still alive and in any condition to fight—to take care of, so Castiel chose to believe the situation was under control now.

The Mark was all but howling at this point, loud and overjoyed, but Castiel found that he no longer had the energy to push it away.

Hannah’s grip on her blade tightened even more this time, so much that her knuckles turned white and her jaw clenched dangerously as what Castiel could only read as anger at knowing that three angels had been killed tonight sparked to life in her eyes, but fortunately she didn’t immediately charge at him again. Afriel, on the other hand, looked like she might be considering to simply ignore Hannah's authority and step forward to end Castiel right then and there. Much to his relief, though, she did not actually do that.

However, it might only be a matter of time until she lost her patience, Castiel reasoned.

“I know that's not how it's supposed to work,” he admitted, shifting their focus away from the death of two more angels and back to the conversation they'd been having up until now, “It was hard for me to actually believe it when we first found out, too, but that’s what happened. During my first night with Dean, I lost control of my Grace and claimed his soul without meaning to, and somehow, that same night, we also conceived. And Dean’s  _fine,_ Hannah. Have you ever heard of a healthy human bearing a nephilim?”

There was a heavy pause, during which Hannah seemed to once again contemplate his words, which at this point, considering everything that was happening around them, was a lot more than Castiel had expected of her. He wasn’t sure what to make of her expression, however; could not decide whether or not the fact that she was at least willing to allow him to explain himself could still be taken as a good sign. He wanted to believe it was, that it meant he still had a chance of convincing her that he was innocent, that he might still be able to sway Hannah's judgment somehow, but he found that he couldn’t make himself fully believe that, not when the look in her eyes had become so cold.

The spot where the Mark resided in Dean's arm burned, as though the cursed symbol had been branded into Castiel's own skin, and he had to resist the urge to lift his hand to press it against the place where the phantom pain was coming from.

“How the nephilim was created does not matter,” Hannah finally announced. “The rules are clear, Castiel. Our Father’s laws clearly state that any angel-human hybrid has to be killed, with no exception. The circumstances of a nephilim’s conception mean nothing. This changes nothing.”

The words weren’t exactly unexpected, but that did not meant they did not hurt to be heard; that they did not feel as painful as a blade being driven right into his heart.

But Castiel was still alive, which meant that he could still try to save his family, and he would do that for as long as he could speak, until the moment he drew his very last breath.

“That baby is not just a nephilim, Hannah,” he insisted, “Not just a hybrid, just like Dean’s not simply… the human carrying it until term. Dean’s my mate, and growing in his womb is my child.” He swallowed drily at the way Hannah's eyes narrowed at those words, but he did not allow that to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth. This was his only chance, and as pointless as it seemed now, complete honesty was the only card he had left to play, his last thread of hope. It might be a long shot, but he had to try everything. "They're my family, Hannah, and I know it might seem absurd to you that I'm saying this, but it is the truth."

Castiel made a pause as he examined Hannah's reaction, taking in her shocked expression—her wide, inquiring eyes, the way her brows had moved up to her forehead. She hadn't expected to hear that, of course.

So Castiel continued, taking the opportunity to talk that Hannah's surprised silence was giving him. "I've been on Earth for years now, Hannah. And we've talked about this before, about how all the human emotion you're constantly subjected to while on Earth can be... overwhelming. You saw it, felt it even, and you were only down here for a few months. I was  _human_  once, completely Graceless, and since then, even if now another angel's Grace burns away inside my chest, I feel like part of me stayed human. And I wouldn't change that, for anything. You cannot possibly imagine what it's like for me, nor do I expect you to understand any of it, but I do hope that the brief, small peek that you took at humanity while you were here was enough to allow you to believe me when I say this."

He took in a steadying breath, preparing himself to make a confession, to let out the words he hadn't yet said even to Dean.

"I love them, Hannah, both of them. They're truly everything to me. If Dean and the baby could live on without me, then I would gladly die for them here to pay for what you insist is my crime, although there is nothing you can say that will convince me that there's anything even remotely wrong with me falling for Dean and having a child with him."

Part of him wasn't completely certain of that last part, as sometimes Castiel still caught himself wondering if there was something wrong with him, something broken that had made him so different from the rest of Heaven, but he pushed that part of himself away as hard as he could, hiding it from sight where Hannah would not be able to see it. He couldn't show any hint of doubt now, and he knew that.

And none of those doubts must have showed in his voice or face, as Hannah looked completely stunned in the moment that followed. She'd looked confused and surprised before, but the expression that had taken over her features now had those two emotions amplified. She looked lost, even, completely unsure of how to respond or proceed, as though her mind had truly stopped working. Her hold in her blade had even grown looser, and Castiel allowed himself to hope that he'd said the right thing; that he'd finally managed to convince her to at least consider that he might not be as guilty as she'd been insisting he was.

That was, until bright angelic light poured out of the cabin for the fourth time.

“That’s enough,” Afriel barked out, apparently finally losing her patience and stepping forward with her blade raised, ready to strike at Castiel as soon as she reached him.

Castiel’s reactions were still a bit delayed, of course, as the brief pause in the actual physical fight that this conversation had provided had obviously not given him enough time to recover from all the wounds he'd received so far, but fortunately he was still fast enough to block the first blow Afriel attempted to deliver upon him, jumping backwards to avoid getting a slash right across his chest and wincing at the pain that erupted from his wounded leg when he had to abruptly support his weight on it. He ignored the pain, however, regaining his balance quickly and lifting his own blade so it could clash against Afriel’s in the air when the other angel attempted to hit him again. And after successfully blocking her second blow, Castiel pushed Afriel back, taking advantage of the momentum from the shove to deliver a punch to his opponent's jaw, which sent her reeling back even more and knocked her off balance enough so that Castiel managed to deliver a kick to her front with his bad leg, causing her to finally tumble backwards and down to the ground.

However, Afriel was quick to roll over sideways before Castiel could actually try to step forward and harm her in any way. She also didn’t lose her grip around her blade during her fall, as the weapon was still firmly held in her grasp as she, in a swift movement, rose back to her feet only a moment after hitting the ground, turning back around to face Castiel and immediately advancing toward him again.

This time he didn’t react quite as fast, and he hissed when the tip of Afriel’s blade managed to slice the skin of his left shoulder, the cut burning as his flesh was torn open. The Grace within him wailed in agony as light shone from the gash for a second, since the harm caused by an Angel Blade reached far deeper than simply the flesh of his vessel, but once again he ignored the pain as he, too, took a chance at a blow. Afriel was quick to deflect his own blade, however, but her balance really seemed to be her weak spot. She attempted another swing at Castiel and he successfully ducked under it, but she took a couple too many seconds to regain her footing properly after it, and Castiel saw that as an opportunity to use his opponent’s lack of equilibrium to his own advantage. So he was quick to give her another shove, lifting his blade yet again and clashing it against Afriel’s own weapon before it could hit him as she flailed it aimlessly through the air, and in a practiced movement, he twisted his wrist just the right way to disarm her, watching as her blade fell to the ground by their feet.

And then another blade sliced into Castiel’s shoulder, though this time from behind, followed by a strong kick to his wounded leg, which caused his knee to buckle under his weight, a pained shout escaping his lips before he could stop it. Castiel fell to the ground as his leg failed to support him, still gripping his blade tightly in his hand, though before he could try to get back to his feet or even comprehend what had just happened, he realized with a wave of dread that there was a blade hovering right under his chin, the tip of it barely a couple of inches away from the skin of throat.

He froze.

“Hannah, please,” he breathed out, failing to recall when exactly she had moved to stand behind him. In his mind, he cursed himself for not having noticed her moving at all to begin with, though maybe it should not be much of a surprise that his lethargic, tired brain had not been able to pay attention to what she had been doing during his fight with Afriel.

“That’s enough, Castiel,” was Hannah’s sharp, dry response. Any hesitancy or sympathy Castiel might have seen flash in her eyes earlier, any doubt that he'd possibly managed to spark in her mind with his words, was apparently completely gone now, and at some point it had been replaced by a clear indifference, a cold harshness that bled freely into her voice. “Drop your blade.”

Castiel still hesitated for a moment, of course, as the last thing he wished to do right now was leave himself unarmed. He refused to let go of his weapon even when Hannah's hand came to rest on his wounded shoulder, squeezing down at the torn flesh. His only reaction to that was the low, pained hiss he could not stop from escaping through his gritted teeth, and it was only when he felt the tip of Hannah’s blade being pressed just slightly against the underside of his jaw in a silent warning that he realized he really had no other choice but to follow her demand. Swallowing drily, he allowed his right hand to go lax, dropping his own blade onto the ground by his side.

Neither of the two other seraphs towering over him made any movement to pick it up. Afriel had apparently already retrieved her own weapon from the ground by then, so she didn't even spare Castiel's blade a second glance.

“It’s over, Castiel,” Hannah stated. Her grip on his wounded shoulder had loosened a little, though it was still tight enough to cause him pain. “You knew the consequences of your actions.”

“Hannah—”

It was in that moment that someone emerged from inside the cabin, and much to Castiel’s panic, the first person to step through the open doorway only about twenty feet away and out into the night, blade gripped tightly in his hand and shining under the moonlight that currently washed over everything around them, was Dean, though he was followed closely by Sam. However, as worried as Castiel felt to see Dean come outside and, in consequence, place himself far too close to the threat posed by Hannah and Afriel, it did make the seraph's chest feel just a tiny bit lighter to notice that Dean truly seemed to have escaped whatever fight he'd participated in inside the cabin completely unscathed. He was apparently simply a bit breathless, unlike Sam, whose forehead was stained with blood from what must have been a fairly strong blow to his head and whose arm was currently held close to his torso, his elbow bent so that the limb was pretty much pressed against his chest, as though the human was overly aware that trying to stretch it or move it in any way might bring him pain. In his other hand resided another blade, and the arm he was using to hold it seemed functional, at least.

There was no sign of Charlie or Juliet with them, however, and Castiel wondered if the two were fine. He very strongly hoped so, but at this point, he was inclined to believe the opposite might be the case, thinking back on what he'd heard and felt coming from Dean earlier, a thought that set a heavy weight back over his heart.

Both brothers’ eyes widened as soon as they caught sight of the scene that greeted them once they were outside, freezing almost simultaneously in their spots by the destroyed wall, though Sam moved again a second later, quickly stepping in front of Dean and holding out his bad arm with a pained wince, placing his palm flat against Dean's chest to try and keep his brother in place so that Sam was one step closer to the angels. His intent with those actions could not be clearer—the younger Winchester wished to put himself between the angels and his brother, to act as a shield, a barrier in case either of the two hostile seraphs wished to harm Dean. Castiel was truly grateful for the action, even if he doubted that would make much of a difference right now. No matter how far they kept Dean from Hannah and Afriel, no matter if not even a single finger was actually laid on the pregnant hunter, if Castiel died here, so would Dean and the baby.

“Take one more step and he’s dead,” Afriel announced, voice sharp as it cut through the air, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the open space around them as soon as Dean and Sam had walked out of the cabin and causing both brothers to tense up even more.

Dean looked like all he wanted to do right then was ignore Afriel's warning and simply run up to where the three angels were, his hold on his weapon tightening, jaw clenching as a flame of raw anger came to life in his green eyes. The Mark still burned, and Castiel could feel it even more clearly now, telling Dean to do just that, insisting that he could take the two angels currently towering over Castiel easily, that the human should just stride up to them and tear them both apart right then and there. For a moment, Castiel feared that Dean might actually follow the Mark's advice.

 _Dean, don’t come any closer,_ the angel pleaded.  _They will kill you both the moment they get the chance. Please don't take that risk._

Fortunately, Dean did not attempt to move forward. Instead, his gaze locked with Castiel's as he heard those words echoing inside his head, green staring into blue for a long, tense moment, until finally the hunter let his eyes slip closed. Dean's throat rippled as he swallowed, chest rising and falling noticeably a few times as the human seemed to take a handful of slow, steadying breaths, and after several particularly long seconds, Castiel finally felt the Mark grow quieter.

When Dean's eyes opened again, something had changed in them, like the spark of anger that had been burning behind those emerald irises had faded, but it had taken some of their light with it, making the hunter’s gaze darker somehow. The look in those beautiful green eyes was suddenly sad, heavy, laced with so many different emotions that Castiel wasn't sure which one to examine first. The strongest one he could feel flowing into the bond was fear, but the rest was nothing but a mess as it reached the angel, an incoherent jumble of so many different layers of feelings all mixed together that the seraph had no idea where to even begin if he were to try to decipher all of them right now.

 _Cas, I can't just..._ Dean's panic was very clear as he spoke through their link, every single word that echoed inside Castiel's mind completely laced with it.  _We have to do something. I can't just stand here and watch as they..._

Dean's voice seemed to fail, even in the privacy of their joined minds. He apparently could not make himself finish whatever he had been about to say, so instead, he grew quiet, letting his words fade to silence.

But Castiel understood it anyway. And in that moment, staring into Dean’s wide, pleading eyes, the angel wished so vehemently that there was something he could say to soothe the hunter's mind, to assure Dean that he would be fine and that they would make it through this, that there was a way for them to actually win tonight, for them to  _live_. But that seemed very unlikely at this point, so much that the seraph could think of nothing to say right then, could not come up with any words of reassurance or hope, so he chose to remain quiet instead.

“Hannah, hold on.” Sam lifted his hands in the air, his grip on his blade loose, unthreatening, a wordless request for calm, for a pause in the fight, like a peace offering of sorts. “Listen, you don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” Hannah replied calmly, her tone cold and detached, so much that her voice had become almost unfamiliar to Castiel at this point. She suddenly sounded exactly like the countless other angels that Castiel had once called his brothers and sisters, his family, but that now seemed to be nothing more than strangers to him. “This is one of Heaven’s most absolute laws, Samuel. There is no exception to it. There is no pardon to be given for something of this sort.”

“This isn’t that simple,” Sam insisted, shaking his head lightly, his tone and eyes pleading, voice wavering just barely, though still enough to make it clear that Sam's panic was also rising within his chest.

“It is,” Hannah retorted easily, the finality of her tone clear, and the harshness her voice carried then stung, the sharp edge her words had developed impossible to miss. The sound of it made Castiel wonder how he could have even hoped that he might be able to sway her judgment at all. “Now, you don’t need to die, Samuel, so I suggest you step back and do not attempt to interfere any more than you already have.”

Both brothers still looked like they wished to do the very opposite of that. Sam's eyes grew more even pleading at the sound of those words, the once lax hold the younger Winchester had around his blade becoming tighter, his throat rippling as he swallowed, jaw clenching and relaxing a few times as his gaze darted back and forth between Hannah and Afriel, as though calculating his chances in a fight against the two angels, as though considering what might happen if he simply pounced on them right then and there, perhaps even pondering how fast they would react if he made a move, or if he might be able to cross the distance between himself and them in time before Hannah buried her blade into the underside of Castiel’s jaw. There seemed to be thousands of thoughts running through Sam’s head right then as the human still clearly struggled to find a way to fix the situation, as helpless as that effort might seem right now.

Dean's eyes, however, only grew wider with his panic. Castiel could still feel his mate’s fear pouring into the bond, though it was even stronger now, practically emanating from the hunter and flooding the connection in powerful, disorienting waves, as it was in that moment that Dean seemed to truly realize just how hopeless their situation was quickly becoming. Castiel even saw the hunter's free hand twitching where it hung empty by his side, rising in the air only a couple of inches before Dean moved it back down, as though he wished to rest his palm against his hidden bump to soothe either himself or the baby (probably both, the seraph assumed). It actually seemed as if the hunter had been about to follow that unconscious instinct without even thinking, which wasn’t exactly odd, as that was something the angel had noticed the human doing quite a lot lately, and normally the sight of it would cause a warm feeling to blossom in Castiel’s chest—fondness, happiness, he wasn’t sure what to call it, all he knew was that it never failed to make him smile. However, in that moment, the seraph was glad that Dean had realized what he’d been about to do in time and had stopped himself from doing it here, because Castiel had no idea how Hannah and Afriel would react to such a clear display of protectiveness toward the nephilim.

And just like before, Dean looked like all he wanted to do right then was to march over to where Castiel was and do something, most likely drive his blade right into Hannah's and Afriel's hearts, or at least simply try and change the course of what in that moment looked like a lost, hopeless battle. Although this time the hunter’s desire to carelessly lash out seemed to be fueled not by rage, but by despair, which in no way made the thought of Dean giving in to that urge any less terrifying to Castiel.

Fortunately, however, neither one of the two brothers actually moved forward.

"Hannah, this isn't what you're trying to make it out to be," Sam tried again, and his words had a rushed tone to them now, desperate even, like he was very clearly running out of options, like he was struggling to come up with more words to say to Hannah, with more arguments that might convince her not to harm Castiel, which wasn't exactly surprising at this point. Castiel felt like he had already exhausted every single line of reasoning they could present to her by now, so he could not bring himself to feel very hopeful that Sam might be able to change her mind about this.

But then again, it wasn't like they had many more options to pursue at this point other than to continue talking, and Sam seemed to also have realized that by now. His posture had changed considerably in just a matter of a handful of seconds—he seemed more defensive all of a sudden, holding his blade firmly in front of his body like he expected one of the angels to simply advance toward him and Dean at any second now, even if that was surely not something Hannah and Afriel would even consider doing in that moment, not when they had the advantage. And that clear shift in the human’s stance actually only made it even more obvious that Sam was utterly lost on what to do, on how to act, which led Castiel to believe that the younger Winchester's desperate efforts to find a way to win this fight, to figure out a way to get the upper hand somehow, had apparently returned him no helpful results. He seemed to have finally realized that attempting to physically approach the angels might actually do the very opposite of helping at this point, and that such a thoughtless, careless course of action really wasn't worth the risk, much to Castiel's relief.

"I mean, just  _look_ at Dean," Sam continued, moving his hand away from where it had still been pressed against Dean's chest and using it to gesture at his brother, who visibly tensed up as everyone's attention was suddenly focused on him. "He's okay. He's not unconscious or dying or anything. Isn't that enough to tell you that this isn't anything like all the other... nephilim cases? Isn't that at least enough for you to give them a chance to _talk?_ "

Castiel had used that same argument with Hannah before, so he already knew what response Sam would most likely get from her, but of course he did not mention that out loud.

"I have given Castiel the chance to talk, Samuel," Hannah replied drily, and her words were no surprise to Castiel. They were nothing but expected at this point. "However, I assure you that there is nothing any of you have to say that could possibly convince me to forgive a transgression of this sort."

Sam's face fell at those words, and it was almost possible to see some of the hope he had been so strongly holding on to up until now crumbling to dust right then, carried away by the weak breeze that flowed around them. The human swallowed drily once again, his grip on his blade tightening even more, painting his knuckles white. His jaw clenched a few more times, the way it seemed to do whenever he was struggling with some particularly hard train of thought, whenever he was having trouble with something inside his own mind, and he looked about to say something, but Castiel did not actually hear whatever words he'd been about to let out right then, as it was in that moment that Dean reached out to the angel through their connection once more.

 _Cas, you gotta fight back. You have to... You can't just..._ Dean's words seemed to fail him again, and just like before, he didn't finish whatever thought he'd been trying to convey.

But again, Castiel understood what Dean had meant to say nonetheless. And the angel knew that he had to do something, that he had to somehow find a way to distance himself from the sharp tip of the blade currently pressed against the skin of his throat. He knew he had to push Hannah back somehow, or at least knock that blade away from his jugular for long enough so that he could at least have a chance to fight again. He had to somehow put himself in a position in which his life wasn't hanging by a thread. He had to find a way to save the lives of his mate and child.

But he couldn't think of any. At even the smallest movement, at the slightest attempt from Castiel to free himself, or even if either one of the two brothers tried to step forward to do anything at all, Hannah would kill him. He knew that for a fact, without a single doubt in his mind. Hannah had been one of the very few angels Castiel had come to truly consider his friend; the only one that, throughout the past few years, in the middle of all the chaos that had been taking place in Heaven as of late, he'd believed he could actually trust. At one point, he had even thought she might actually deserve the title of family. But now he finally realized that maybe it was nothing but foolish of him to grow hopeful that any other member of the Heavenly Host might actually be worthy of his trust, much less of such a meaningful title. None of them were, and they never had been to begin with.

This was not how this night was supposed to end; how  _any_  of it was supposed to end. Castiel had been supposed to protect Dean and their fledging. He'd been supposed to keep them safe. But just like it had happened with so many of the tasks that had been assigned to him during the billions of years he'd existed in this Universe, he'd failed. This was without a doubt the most important thing he had ever attempted to do in his entire life, the most important responsibility that had ever been placed on his shoulders, and he'd failed it terribly. He’d failed _them._

Castiel's chest hurt as those thoughts echoed inside his head countless times, like something had been jammed right into his heart. His shoulders slumped slightly as the weight of that realization seemed to settle on them, making his entire vessel feel heavier. Guilt, same, self-loathing—it all flooded him at once, and the pain brought on by all those emotions was almost too much for him to endure. He felt like walls that were not truly there were closing in on him. His lungs felt like they were no longer properly functional, the air he breathed in feeling thinner than it should be, while his head was once again spinning with a sense of disorientation that this time had not been caused by any physical blow.

And Castiel had truly meant what he’d said to Hannah earlier—he would gladly die for Dean and the baby here tonight if he knew without a doubt that they both would survive, that his death would not result in theirs. But that wasn’t the case here, and it hurt, it hurt _so much_ to think that maybe his mate and child might not make it out of here alive tonight because of _him._ And he wasn't sure what he could have done differently, wasn't sure exactly what wrong decisions he'd made that had led them here. He couldn't think of anything else he could have said or done before Hannah had discovered the truth, some way he might have been able to avoid all of this, another plan that would have been better, that would have _worked._ All he knew for sure was that he should have done  _something_ differently, that he should have tried harder.

Castiel could hear Sam speaking again—pleading with Hannah still, it seemed like—but the seraph could not bring himself to pay attention to the words being exchanged between the two. No, because in that moment, he was focused solely on Dean, their surroundings all but fading away completely around them as the seraph noticed how the hunter’s distress seemed to be growing steadily with every second that passed now, so painfully clear in both his features and their connection that it was almost overwhelming, which all led Castiel to assume that the human must have received at least some of the angel’s internal turmoil through the bond.

And it hurt to see the desperate, _begging_ look in Dean’s eyes. The fear, the despair—all the emotions that had been so clear in them up until now seemed to have been amplified all of a sudden, having apparently grown in intensity as he'd received the angel's own desperate thoughts. But there was nothing Castiel could say now to make Dean calmer; there was no way for him to send all of that away, as much as he wished to, so he did the only thing he could in that moment.

 _I'm so sorry, Dean,_ Castiel spoke into the bond, hearing a tremor in his own voice, even if he wasn’t actually saying the words out loud. _I’m so, so sorry._

Dean's panic grew even more intense at those words, which was not surprising at all, as the hunter clearly understood the reason why the angel was apologizing to him right then. Dean swallowed once, eyes even wider now, and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to reply with. He looked completely lost, as though he was feeling as helpless as Castiel himself felt in that moment, which might actually be the case here.

_Cas…_

_I love you. Both of you._

Castiel was very much aware of just how delicate and difficult this particular subject was to Dean. He'd been aware of it for years now, in fact, but it was only during the past few months that it truly became clear to Castiel just how much Dean struggled with moments like this. Emotions weren't something Dean dealt with easily, much less expressed openly, so it hadn't been particularly difficult to guess that the human would display the same kind of hesitance toward a confession of this sort. So of course, the angel had chosen to respect Dean's boundaries, and even if he could clearly feel Dean's own feelings through the bond; even if so many times he'd heard Dean's internal struggle with saying those exact three words out loud to Castiel; even if as of late, the hunter would very often flood the angel's mind with them without even realizing it, Castiel had not pushed the hunter in any way. He would not even say them himself, either, because he feared Dean might feel pressured somehow if he did, and that was the last thing the seraph wished to do to him. Castiel had decided to give the hunter time, allow him to adjust and grow more comfortable in his own pace, to say those words only when he was truly ready, if that were to ever even happen at all, because to Castiel, hearing Dean actually say them did not matter all that much. The seraph could  _feel_ them instead, sometimes could even see them shining back at him in Dean's eyes, as obvious as if the hunter had written them down for the angel to read, as clear as if the confession had actually jumped from the human's lips, and to Castiel, that was already more than enough.

But kneeling here on the dirty ground with a blade pressed against his throat, his life hanging by a single thread, Castiel found that he could not bear the thought of dying without saying those words to Dean at least once. 

_You and this baby are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry that I could not protect you. I'm sorry that I failed you both, Dean._

Dean had no response to that for a moment, though his eyes grew noticeably wider with his surprise. He looked truly shocked as he stared at Castiel, stunned even, so much that the hunter seemed to have been rendered completely speechless, and was now clearly struggling to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard. It was like Dean couldn't quite believe the angel had truly just said all that to him, like he had never expected to hear such a deep, meaningful confession to be directed at him; perhaps he might even be wondering how Castiel could possibly mean those words, like Dean couldn't make himself accept that they could be true. And those were all terribly painful thoughts to have, but the angel knew all that might be exactly what was going through Dean's head right then, even if in that moment Castiel found that he could not quite understand what he could feel coming from Dean through the bond, as the hunter's emotions had once more become a messy, incoherent jumble. But he knew how lowly Dean thought of himself sometimes, how unworthy of happiness—or anything good at all, for that matter—he considered himself to be, and it hurt to realize just how deeply those self-loathing thoughts actually reached. Apparently, the hunter believed them so vehemently that it was hard for him to accept such heavy, profound confession from Castiel; to accept a declaration of love.

That shocked silence lasted for about half a minute, until suddenly Dean's features hardened. Castiel saw the exact moment when the hunter seemed to make a decision—noticed the shift in the human's eyes, how he suddenly stood up straighter, shoulders tense, jaw clenched as he adjusted his hold around his blade. Castiel saw it all, and even if he was not exactly sure what the change in the hunter's stance actually meant, he already knew for certain that he would not be happy with whatever was about to follow it. However, the angel did not have a chance to react to the shift or try to do anything to stop Dean before he did anything risky or careless, as suddenly the older Winchester lifted his blade in the air, holding it up loosely, unthreatening, just as Sam had earlier, apparently trying to convey that he meant the two standing angels no harm.

"... if you don't think you should at least consider that—"

"It's me you want, isn't it?" Dean asked, interrupting his brother, his voice unexpectedly loud, cutting through the air without a warning, and everyone apart from Castiel seemed surprised by the sound of it. Slowly, Dean pushed Sam lightly to the side and out of the way with his free hand, taking a couple of tentative steps forward, sharp eyes measuring Hannah's and Afriel's reactions as he moved, probably to make sure they wouldn't harm Cas, as though testing the waters, as if trying to figure out just how much movement he could get away with. Afriel tensed up as Dean stepped forward, but she did not move from where she was standing. Her only reaction was her turning her head a bit so she could focus her attention on the pregnant human, though from where Castiel was, still kneeling on the ground, he couldn't quite see the expression on her face, so he wasn't sure how to read her. Castiel did not see Hannah's reaction either, but he noticed clearly as she tensed up behind him, though fortunately she made no movement to harm him.

Much to Castiel's relief, even when he noticed that neither Hannah nor Afriel had a particularly bad reaction to him moving, Dean didn't take more than three steps forward before he stopped walking. But even if he had not actually crossed the distance between himself and the angels, he was now a lot closer to Hannah and Afriel than Castiel would have been happy with, and without Sam between them to act as a barrier if Dean needed any sort of protection, a thought that made Castiel's worry grow within his chest once more. He had no idea what Dean was trying to do here; all he knew was that he was the very opposite of happy about it.

"You say this is all Cas' fault," Dean continued, "That he's the one guilty of whatever the hell you think you're judging him for, but he's not really the one you want dead, is he?"

"You know nothing of Heaven's laws, Dean Winchester," Hannah replied calmly, "I do not expect someone like you to understand the true gravity of this situation. But I assure you that the blame for all of this is, indeed, to be placed on Castiel."

"Is it, really? Because, trust me, he didn't do anything alone."

Castiel watched as Afriel's grip on her blade tightened as soon as she heard those words, and he could almost picture her eyes narrowing at Dean, could almost see her pursing her lips in disgust just as she'd done earlier as the implications of what the human had just said registered in her mind, but fortunately she still did not attempt to step closer to the hunter. Dean's eyes flitted over to her face for a moment, measuring her reaction for a couple of seconds with calculating eyes before allowing his gaze to settle back on Hannah, and Castiel wondered if maybe Dean was actually trying to get Afriel to lose her patience. Maybe his plan was to annoy her enough so that she would finally snap, hoping that if Afriel attempted to kill him, then Castiel might be able to handle Hannah on his own.

The idea was completely absurd and far too risky, and again, Castiel was not happy with it, not even in the slightest, even if he knew that if Afriel as much as attempted to approach Dean, Sam would surely step in before anything could happen, as he was standing much closer to Dean than she was.

"I've already informed Castiel that the circumstances of the nephilim's creation, as well as your current state, do not matter," was Hannah's calm, cold response. "A hybrid is a hybrid, and we are here to do as our Father ordered and rid this world of the abomination you now carry."

Dean swallowed visibly, holding Hannah's stare for a long moment, and his gaze was surprisingly confident and unwavering considering how nervous Castiel could feel the human was in that moment, not even a hint of the whirlwind of panic and fear currently creating chaos inside the hunter's mind bleeding into his determined green eyes. However, Castiel still could not even imagine what exactly Dean was attempting to accomplish here, and the angel knew for a fact that simply talking and trying to make Hannah change her mind about this would not work. He'd tried that already, insisted on it for as long as Hannah had allowed him to, with no results. And if Castiel himself had not managed to sway her judgment at all, Dean's chances of succeeding at it were even lower. Doing nothing more than simply talking would get them nowhere, so if they wished to get anything done, wished to have even a small chance of surviving this whole thing, then they would have to try something else.

The problem was, Castiel could not think of anything else they could try that did not have a dangerously high potential of ending badly.

But he still chose to inform Dean of his own thoughts on the matter through their connection, in case simply engaging in more conversation happened to be all that Dean was planning to do here.

_Hannah will not change her mind easily, Dean. She's made that awfully clear. Talking will get us nowhere._

Dean's eyes flitted down to meet Cas' for only a moment before he looked back up at Hannah, and the seraph saw the human swallow drily once more. His jaw tensed a few times, though the look in his eyes was still very strongly determined. Castiel was not sure how to read that reaction.

_I know._

Dean did not elaborate, and Castiel wanted to ask him what exactly he was planning then, wanted to inquire about what the hunter was hoping to accomplish here, but he did not get the chance to.

"You know just well as I do that this is not that simple," Dean said, "You wouldn't be hesitating right now if you didn't have any doubts about this yourself. We wouldn't even be talking if you actually believed everything you're saying without even a sliver of doubt."

Those words seemed to be enough for Afriel to lose her patience. She took a step forward, and Castiel felt his heart jump inside his chest at the sight. Sam tensed up behind Dean, clearly ready to move and put himself between Dean and Afriel just as he'd done earlier if the angel got too close to them.

"Listen here, you little—"

"Afriel, silence. Do not take another step." Hannah's tone left no room for argument, authority bleeding freely into voice and coating every single one of her sharp words, and fortunately Afriel seemed to have enough clarity of mind to not ignore Hannah's orders. She froze immediately, before turning around, surprise clear in her features as she stared back at Hannah like she couldn't quite believe what she'd just heard, but apparently Hannah's expression did not waver, because Afriel's hold around her blade tightened even more in frustration, her expression stormy and annoyed, clearly irritated that Hannah had not allowed her to harm Dean.

The smallest hint of a smile touched Dean's lips, and although it was gone only a second later, Castiel still noticed it. He still had no idea what Dean was planning here, but the angel knew for a fact that he was planning  _something._ Castiel had yet to figure out what that might be, though, and he was still struggling with that particular train of thought when the hunter's voice echoed in his mind one more time.

 _Any opening you see, Cas,_ Dean pleaded, _Whatever chance you get, you take it._

Castiel frowned at the words, confused, and he wished to ask what exactly Dean had meant by that, but yet again, he didn't get the chance to.

"You know Cas, Hannah," Dean continued, and his tone had changed considerably from the last time he'd spoken—it sounded almost pleading now, having completely lost the hint of confidence it had once carried. Castiel wondered if the shift was deliberate, or merely a telltale sign that Dean's faith in whatever plan he'd had was fading, though the seraph had no way to know for sure, as apparently the hunter did not plan on sharing his intentions with the angel. "Do you really think he could be trying to defy Heaven in any way? That he could actually have any sort of ulterior motive here?"

Hannah didn't respond, but Castiel did notice her fingers loosening just barely around her blade, and it was in that moment that he finally understood what the hunter planned to accomplish here. Dean was attempting to diverge Hannah's attention, trying to make her focus on him to give Castiel the chance to escape, to make her lower her guard just enough so that Castiel could break free from her grasp and push that blade away from his throat before it could do any damage.

It was risky, and very much so, but it was a plan nonetheless, one that might actually work. And honestly, that might actually be their only option right now, so it was a risk they would have to take.

"He trusted you, and at some point, you also trusted him. More than that, you  _believed_ in him. He thought of you as a friend, Hannah, he really did. He was honest about that." Dean swallowed again, shaking his head lightly before asking in a quiet voice, "Were you?"

Hannah's hold on her blade had loosened considerably by then, so much that the weapon had even lowered a bit, enough so that its sharp, pointy tip was no longer pressed against Castiel's jaw. And in that moment, Castiel knew this was his chance, knew that was the only shot he would get to try and break free. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself for what he was about to do, getting ready to knock that blade away from his throat and reach out to grab his own discarted weapon from the ground as fast as he could, hoping with everything he had that Hannah was distracted enough by Dean's words that her first instinct would not be to move her blade upwards to bury it into his jaw.

But in the end, Castiel did not actually need to do anything.

Before Castiel could move, Hannah let out a weird sound behind him—it sounded like a huff, a rushed breath that was forcefully pushed out of her lungs way too quickly, as though she'd suddenly received a blow to her stomach. And then the loud, familiar crack of a bone breaking filled the air close to Castiel's head before, much to his surprise, Hannah's blade fell to the ground by his side.

A sudden burst of power surged from behind him, brushing right past Castiel like a wave—strong, ancient, far too powerful for Afriel to fight on her own, and she was thrown back several feet, flying through the air much like Castiel had earlier, tossed away like she weighed nothing, like she was no more than a ragdoll, and she remained in the air for a couple of seconds before she fell back down to the muddy ground, landing on her side with a muffled thud. She didn't immediately attempt to get back to her feet, and Castiel assumed whatever force had hit her must have also disoriented her somehow.

Castiel turned on his own spot on the ground, twisting his body around quickly now that Hannah was no longer holding a blade to his throat, no longer a threat to him, and he was filled with relief by the sight that greeted him.

Gabriel was holding Hannah still. He had apparently pulled her back and away from Castiel, at some point having twisted her arm behind her back with enough strength to dislodge her shoulder, probably to ensure that she would not get the chance to harm Castiel, and judging by the angle her arm was bent at, the archangel had broken at least one of the bones in the limb. She was grimacing in pain, but her eyes were hard, almost angry as she clearly tried to fight back, as though the interruption had simply annoyed her more than anything. She struggled against Gabriel's hold, trying to turn her body, perhaps only enough so that she could at least get a look at whoever was holding her, and the archangel must have allowed it, because at some point she successfully twisted in his hold, though only a little bit.

Her eyes widened the moment she realized who was currently holding her still.

"You know, this seems to me like the very opposite of playing nice," Gabriel said, shaking his head at her, sounding as though he was talking to a disobedient child. "You must be Hannah. New boss upstairs and all, right?"

Hannah seemed to have been rendered completely speechless by the sight of Gabriel, so for a long moment, she gave him no reply. Her mouth kept falling open and then closing again repeatedly, but no sound came out of it for a while, which reminded Castiel of a fish. Her eyes were wide as she took in the form of the archangel, and it looked like she couldn't quite make herself believe that what she was seeing was actually true, as though she feared her eyes might be deceiving her somehow. Several seconds passed while she clearly desperately searched for something to say, for a reply, for a  _reaction,_ until finally one word jumped from her lips, though it was almost breathed out, barely even audible in her shocked state.

"Gabriel?" she asked, apparently still feeling the need to confirm it was truly him.

Gabriel smirked, eyes twinkling in what seemed to be delight at being recognized, though for some reason, to Castiel, the reaction seemed forced, untruthful, and the seraph was not sure what to make of that. "Oh, so you guys  _do_  remember me. Interesting."

Hannah shook her head at the archangel, as though the movement might be enough to make the sight of him right in front of her fade from her vision; as if somehow, that might break the illusion she seemed to believe him to be. It was only when she finally seemed to realize that would not happen that she spoke again. “You’re… You can’t be here. You’re dead.” Her voice was weak, words almost whispered, though still completely filled with clear disbelief.

Gabriel huffed out a small laugh that also did seem completely genuine. “Wow, you guys really don't do your homework, huh? Do I look dead to you?”

Hannah looked completely lost on how to reply to that, so she fell quiet once again, just staring at the archangel with wide, shocked eyes. It was almost like she was pondering whether or not she'd gone mad.

Castiel did not see or hear what happened next, however; did not pay attention to whatever words were exchanged between the two in the moments that followed.

He felt Dean approaching him even before he saw the human coming. The bond warned Castiel that his mate was getting closer to him, buzzing a bit more strongly, and the seraph made himself tear his eyes away from Gabriel and Hannah, trusting that the situation was somewhat under control now. And as fast as he could manage, he turned back around, just in time to watch as Dean lowered himself right before him, knees digging into the mud beneath him, apparently having decided that it was safe enough to approach Castiel now that Gabriel was here. The hunter moved a bit more carelessly than the angel thought he should, a bit too fast considering his delicate state, considering just how easy it would be to give the Mark a chance to trigger another early labor at this point with all the stress this whole situation had put Dean through, but in that moment, the seraph found he did not have the strength to remind Dean of that. The human seemed fine in the seconds that followed, and Castiel felt no warning coming from the bond, so he chose to drop the matter for now and not comment on it.

"Cas," Dean breathed out, hands flying up to cup Castiel's face, his touch gentle and careful, as if he was afraid to cause the seraph any more pain. His eyes moved fast, taking in the sight of angel frantically, looking him over for wounds, Castiel assumed. For a moment, the hunter eyed all the blood that currently stained the angel's dirty, torn clothes, pursing his lips unhappily, his brows furrowed disapprovingly, before his gaze finally moved back up to focus on Castiel's face. "Your nose is broken, I think," he whispered, fingers brushing softly against the skin of the angel’s cheek, though fortunately he did not attempt to touch the seraph’s nose to check if it really was broken.

Castiel nodded numbly in agreement, because he knew that already. He also knew that he had a lot more wounds than simply a broken nose, some far more serious and painful, though those were far too many for him to list right now, so he chose to make no comment on it as well. Castiel did not wish to make Dean even more worried than he already was by mentioning all the wounds he'd collected tonight, especially the probable fractured bones the angel could feel aching constantly in his ribcage. So instead, the seraph leaned forward, feeling Dean's arm quickly encircling his waist to give the angel support, apparently thinking that Castiel was about to collapse, which was actually a very valid assumption, considering the angel's current state.

But that wasn’t the reason why the seraph allowed his entire body to sway forward. The movement was controlled, and once he was close enough to Dean, Castiel lifted his own hands, letting them rest on human's sides as he placed his cheek on Dean's shoulder, inhaling deeply once his nose was buried in the hunter’s neck, letting his mate's familiar scent wash over him, filling his senses as he let his eyes slip closed. Feeling Dean's warmth against him now, the rhythmic beat of the human's heart, the steady flow of his breathing—it all sent a feeling of calm blanketing over Castiel, of relief, and he let it pour into the bond freely. And as a result, he felt Dean relax in his hold, turning his head to nose at the seraph’s hair. The Mark had grown completely quiet by now, which was another relief to be cherished.

It was only in that moment that Castiel realized his breathing was also slightly labored, but he chose to ignore that as well.

"You're fine," the seraph whispered, letting the words soothe him; letting them fall over him like a warm, cozy blanket. He placed a small, light kiss to the side of hunter's neck, muttering against his skin, "You're safe. You're both safe."

Dean's arm tightened around him at those words, the hand he had pressed against the angel's back gripping at the fabric of the seraph's shirt as the hunter turned his head even more, tilting it down just a little bit, enough to place a soothing kiss to the side of Castiel's head. "We're okay, Cas. We're both okay," he whispered back.

The knowledge that Castiel had been so terribly close to losing them both weighed heavily in his chest, like his heart had been replaced by a block of lead. One wrong move, one wrong word and it could have all been over. And Castiel was very much aware of that fact, but now, holding Dean in his arms like this, safe and alive and unharmed, the seraph attempted to push all those dark, painful thoughts away. It would do the very opposite of calming him to dwell on them, after all, and that would only add to Dean's stress, which was something they needed to avoid at all costs right now. So instead, Castiel chose to try to simply bask in the fact that Dean and the baby were still here, safe and sound. He should simply—

Pain abruptly shot through his skull—a familiar kind of pain, yes, but terrible nonetheless, disorienting even. Castiel groaned, pulling away from Dean quickly as he raised a hand to press the tips of his fingers against his temple, closing his eyes as if that would help block out the sound of all the voices that had without a warning started echoing far too loudly inside his head, though of course it did not work like that.

_The nephilim is indeed Castiel's. Dean Winchester is the one carrying it._

The words echoed inside his head more than once, repeated over and over again to make sure that every single angel would receive the message clearly, which was not by any means unusual. However, the fact that he was hearing that message at all could only mean one thing—Heaven had been informed of the events of tonight by one the angels that had come to find Castiel here.

So now Heaven knew. Even if they won this fight tonight, even if every single one of the angels who had learned their secret here in this cabin was killed by the end of the night, Heaven would still be aware that Dean was currently carrying Castiel's offspring. There was no going back from that, no way to fool Heaven in any way from now on, no way to fake innocence.

But that was something they would need to deal with later. Right now, they still had a situation to solve here, even if by now they had somewhat regained control over it. But there were still two angels nearby, far too close to Dean and the baby, even if Gabriel was also here and would certainly not allow any harm to come to either of them. So Castiel forced his mind to focus on the thought that he still needed to be alert and ready to fight in case the situation somehow went south again, and he did his best to block out all the voices, shutting off the connection to them so that all he could hear in his mind were his own thoughts and Dean's.

And when he opened his eyes again, blinking a few times as finally he managed to return to reality, Castiel found that Dean had also leaned away from him at some point, sitting back on the ground, his eyes closed, face scrunched up in pain as the hunter pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, as though trying to lessen a strong, stabbing headache. Sam was kneeling beside his brother, one hand gripping Dean's arm to try and give him at least a little bit of support, and even though Castiel had not noticed the younger Winchester moving closer to them at all before then, it was truly not a surprise to see him there.

"What's happening?" Sam asked once he realized that Cas seemed to have regained his bearings, the human's eyes wide with his panic.

But Castiel couldn't make himself respond to that question. Worry blossomed inside the seraph's chest for what felt like the hundredth time tonight at the sight of Dean in pain, and instead of speaking, the angel leaned forward, reaching out to Dean, resting a hand on his mate's shoulder, hoping that would be enough to ground the hunter, to help him find his way back to reality and away from whatever was causing him so much distress.

And Castiel had a pretty good guess on what the reason for Dean's pain might be.

After a moment, Dean finally opened his eyes. He was panting a bit, and when he lifted his head, he blinked a few times, as though he couldn't quite get his vision to focus on anything properly, until finally his eyes found Castiel. "That was..." The human swallowed drily. His voice sounded oddly hoarse, almost like a growl. "That was Angel Radio, wasn't it?"

So Castiel's guess had been correct. The seraph had wondered a few times before if maybe Dean might be able to hear the Heaven's transmissions because of their bond, though they'd never had a chance to test it before, as Dean had been unconscious when the Host had first learned of the nephilim's existence weeks ago. But apparently Dean could indeed hear the angels talking inside his head, and while Castiel had considered it as a possibility before, he was still a bit surprised. He chose not to comment on it now, however, as certainly this was not the right moment for this conversation, and he simply nodded in response, wordlessly confirming what the hunter had already deduced by himself.

"What were they saying?" Dean asked, a question that wasn't at all unexpected. Angels normally spoke in Enochian through their transmissions, and today was no exception to that rule, so of course that even if the hunter had been able to hear the angels talking, he hadn't been able to understand the message he'd received.

Castiel paused before responding so he could consider the consequences of informing Dean that Heaven now knew the nephilim was theirs. That would only add to the hunter's stress, which might be far too dangerous at this point, considering everything the hunter had just gone through. He would have to tell Dean soon, of course, and very much so, but in that moment, the angel decided he should probably postpone that conversation for a few hours, at least until Dean had calmed down and gotten some rest, so that the risk of triggering an early labor wasn't so dangerously high. The seraph wasn't sure what to tell Sam and Dean now, however, so he found himself staring back at them blankly, trying to think of something to say that would get them to agree to leave this subject to be discussed later.

Fortunately, Castiel didn't actually get a chance to speak at all, as Gabriel's loud voice suddenly filled the space around them before the seraph could even attempt to get a single word out of his mouth.

"I'm assuming you had something to do with that."

The three of them all turned their heads at the same time to find the archangel glaring at something behind them, it seemed like. He was still holding Hannah, though she had apparently stopped struggling against him by now, clearly also a bit disoriented, since she had most likely heard the message as well. Gabriel, however, did not look nearly as affected by it.

"Well, someone had to do it."

They all turned around again, this time to look in the opposite direction from where Gabriel and Hannah were standing, following both the sound of the voice and the archangel's glare, only to find that a few feet away from them, on the same spot where she had landed earlier, now stood Afriel, who had apparently at some point gotten back to her feet. She was still holding her blade, but with Gabriel here, she did not look nearly as threatening holding it as she had earlier.

Still, Castiel had to resist the urge to reach out and pull Dean closer to himself, to wrap an arm around his mate so that he and the baby would be safer, because that would not actually help protect them in any way. He wished to do that only for himself, for no reason other than to soothe his own instincts and make himself feel better. So instead of doing that, instead of giving in to that thoughtless urge, Castiel simply glanced down at the three blades lying on the ground near them—Hannah's, Dean's and his own—making sure that every single of them was within arm's reach, and he took comfort in the fact that, if Afriel suddenly tried to approach them, he could simply grab one of those to defend himself and his family.

Not to mention that Sam was right beside them. He'd stood back up now, and he was still holding his own blade, eyes fixated on the new threat unwaveringly, concentrated. He looked prepared to fight again, even with a wounded arm, his body tense, grip on his weapon tight, and he would certainly not allow Afriel to get anywhere near Dean if she tried to step closer to them.

Castiel considered getting up himself, but judging by the pain he could still feel coming from his wounded leg, he was led to believe that would be a fruitless effort, as he would most likely not be able to remain standing for long, or at least it would take a great deal of energy that he could not afford to waste at this point to accomplish that. He should only attempt to get back to his feet if that became absolutely necessary, he decided. Fortunately, Dean seemed to sense his hesitation and did not move to stand either.

However, Afriel did not actually attempt to approach them. Instead, she remained unmoving on her spot, simply studying them all with sharp, measuring eyes, and Castiel took the fact that she chose not to move at all as proof that she was indeed aware she did not stand a chance in a fight against Gabriel.

She did not stay silent for long, though.

"Did you really think that killing us all would free you from the punishment you deserve, Castiel?" she asked, her eyes settling on Castiel at last. She shook her head at him as she spoke, the look in her eyes angry now, enraged even, like all she wished to do right then was march over to where Castiel was and tear him apart limb by limb. Castiel had never quite realized just how unpleasant Afriel truly was, but now it was impossible to miss it. "We all came here knowing that we might not survive this mission, so we were instructed to inform Heaven of any sort of important development as soon as we got to the chance to, and that's what I just did. And now, Heaven knows the truth. The entirety of the Heavenly Host is now aware that Dean Winchester is carrying Castiel's offspring. You might have won the fight tonight, but you're still doomed. All of you are."

Castiel saw the exact moment when Dean and Sam seemed to put the pieces together, when they finally seemed to realize what exactly the message the angels (and Dean) had received had been about. Sam tensed up visibly, his knuckles turning white around the handle of his blade, though he did not glance down at Castiel to confirm his thoughts on the matter, to find out if his guess was in fact correct. Dean, however, did turn his head to look at Castiel, and the seraph hesitated for a moment, feeling the strong wave of fear and panic that flowed into the bond coming from the human. For a few seconds, Castiel attempted to steady himself at least a little bit by taking in a slow, deep breath, before finally turning his own head to meet the hunter's inquiring gaze.

Dean's eyes were wide, an obvious unspoken question coating them, flashing back at Castiel clearly, and the seraph cursed Afriel silently for explaining what she'd done out loud for everyone to hear, making sure his annoyance remained trapped within the boundaries of his own mind alone. There was no way to keep this from Dean now, no way to wait until the hunter was calmer and rested to tell him that their situation had now become even more complicated than it already had been before.

Finally, after a moment of hesitation, Castiel made himself nod slowly, confirming to Dean what the human had clearly already deduced on his own, and then the angel watched as Dean's gaze became even heavier. It hurt to watch the hopeless, desperate look that filled those green eyes right then, but there was nothing Castiel could say in that moment to soothe his mate's mind, as the angel knew that any word of reassurance and hope he could possibly say right now would turn out to be nothing more than an empty promise that he had no means to keep, that he would surely also fail to honor.

So Castiel did the only thing he could think of in that moment. He still resisted the urge to pull Dean closer, which was now even stronger than it had been earlier, and instead, he lifted his hand slowly, reaching out so he could cradle Dean's own hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing the hunter's hand lightly in what the seraph hoped would be a calming, reassuring gesture.

Dean swallowed drily, glancing down at their joined hands, and the troubled look did not disappear from the human's features, but he did squeeze Castiel's hand back.

"Well, I think that's enough from you," Gabriel announced, and with one powerful flap of the wings Castiel could not see, the archangel was suddenly standing behind Afriel. He had taken Hannah with him in his short flight, and apparently he'd shoved her to the side as he'd landed, which caused her to tumble down to the ground by his feet, falling onto the mud with her arms under her chest, letting out a startled huff at the impact. And since Gabriel no longer needed to worry about holding Hannah still, his hands were now free, so without wasting even a single second, the archangel quickly ripped the blade right out of Afriel's hand, swiftly disarming her. He wrapped his free arm around her neck before she could react, and she lifted her hands to grip at his forearm, struggling against his hold, but of course she was not nearly strong enough to break free from an archangel's grasp.

"It's Afriel, isn't it?" Gabriel asked, though Afriel did not reply, instead choosing to continue struggling against the archangel's hold, even if her efforts were obviously pointless. "Just for the record—if you think Heaven will give a flying fuck about you after tonight, if you think they'll even remember you at all, then you're hilariously delusional. There's no point in trying to impress Heaven or hope that they think of you as anything more than a tool. To them, every single one of us is nothing more than a useless, expendable pawn."

Castiel could not find it in himself to disagree with those words, as harsh as they sounded. It was the truth, anyway, as painful as it was to admit it, and he'd learned that the hardest way there was—being exiled from Heaven after everything he had done for them, after billions of years of serving them and after helping save this world more than once. However, there was a much sharper edge to Gabriel's words than Castiel would have expected to hear, a clear hint of frustration—and perhaps even anger—bleeding into his voice that led the seraph to assume there had to be a reason behind that tone. Castiel wondered what that may be; if there was some sort of story behind it, something that could have caused Gabriel to sound so bitter and angry when talking about Heaven. Perhaps that was simply a result of having spent thousands of years hiding from them on Earth, but for some reason, Castiel felt like there was something else to it, something more that he wasn't aware of.

Gabriel did not give Afriel a chance to respond to his words. Before she could even try to speak, he quickly lifted the arm he'd had wrapped around her throat, gripping the top of her head with his hand and pulling it backwards so that her neck was exposed. And swiftly, before she could react, he lifted the blade he'd taken from her and used it to cut her throat, slicing the skin open easily. And once that was done, he quickly dropped the blade to the ground by his feet, still holding Afriel's head tilted backwards while he produced a clear, small glass vial from the inside of his jacket. He held the container in front of the wound for a moment, and soon enough Afriel's Grace began to slide out from the cut, flowing through the air as it moved toward the vial, sliding into it and quickly filling the small container.

And once the vial was full, Gabriel snapped it closed and tucked it away again inside his jacket, finally letting go of Afriel's head so he could bend down briefly to pick up her blade from the ground. And in the next second, he drove the weapon into her back, the tip of it emerging from her chest. No light shone from within her; no Grace cried out in agony as it burned away, as none of it resided inside of her vessel now. No, her eyes simply widened in shock at the pain she was certaintly feeling right then, a struggled, choked breah escaping her parted lips as the wound on her neck continued to bleed. Somehow, she still managed to glance down to look at her chest, probably to take in the sight of the tip of her own blade coming out of her body, peeking out of her ribcage right beside her sternum, but as the archangel removed his blade from her torso, her legs gave out under her and she fell down onto the mud. She choked lightly a few times again, still trying to breathe for only a few seconds before she completely ceased moving on the dirty ground, dying a quiet human death.

Gabriel barely gave Afriel's lifeless form even second glance after she hit the ground, however, quickly lifting his eyes to find Hannah, who was now standing up from the ground. Her movements were slow, careful, eyes glued to Gabriel like she expected him to attack her at any second now. She was unarmed, her blade still lying beside Castiel on the ground several feet away, but she must realize how hopeless it was for her to even attempt to fight right now, because she did not try to move to retrieve her weapon, even if both her arm and shoulder had apparently already healed. She certainly knew that she would not offer much of a challenge to an archangel even if she had a blade to defend herself with. Either way, armed or not, this was already a lost battle, and she was surely aware of it.

"Now," Gabriel lifted Afriel's blade as he spoke, pointing it at Hannah, though he did not attempt to cross the small distance there was between them, "How about we talk about this little situation, huh?"

"There is nothing left to talk about." Hannah's voice was oddly strong, surprisingly sharp and confident, considering her current circumstances.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at her, looking slightly amused by her tone. "Is that so? Because as I understand it, you're the boss now, and that means that you can tell your little minions up there in Heaven to just drop this hunt of yours and leave Castiel and the Winchesters alone."

Hannah regarded Gabriel in silence for a moment, her eyes concentrated, pensive, like she was trying very hard to read him, until finally she let out what sounded like an amused huff, which had Castiel frowning in confusion. It was an odd reaction to see from her, especially in a situation such as this one. "So you really are helping them?" she inquired, sounding a bit surprised, disbelieving even. She shook her head, fixing Gabriel with an odd stare that Castiel did not quite understand. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be this surprised. The cloaking, the fast traveling—it all makes sense now. And of course  _you_ would be involved in yet another attempt to hide a hybrid from Heaven."

Castiel couldn't help but frown at Hannah's words, as clearly they carried a hidden meaning behind them that completely escaped him. She seemed to be referring to something, and she'd actually mentioned  _another_ hybrid, as though Gabriel's involvement with nephilims was nothing new to her, as if it was some sort of recurring event, which would explain why she'd said she should not be so surprised that Gabriel was helping them now. Castiel wasn't sure what to make of all that, could not think of what exactly Hannah might be alluding to with those words, but as curious as he felt about it in that moment, this was certainly not the time to inquire about that particular matter, so he remained quiet.

"Well, this isn't about me, is it?" Gabriel replied easily, swiftly shrugging Hannah's comments off, "Now, what do you say we try to reach an agreement about this little issue?"

Hannah shook her head, voice still confident and unwavering as she stated, "There is no agreement to be made here."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly giving you a choice," Gabriel retorted. He smiled at her, but it was not a friendly smile in any way; it was almost threatening, an obvious warning in his eyes as he lifted Afriel's blade just bit more, though enough to make the meaning behind his words clear to her.

Hannah paused again, once more considering the sight of Gabriel standing right before her with careful, contemplative eyes. Castiel was not sure what might be going through her head right then, but it seemed like she was struggling with her own thoughts, like she was having a hard time figuring out how to respond to that, like she couldn't find the right words to say.

Until finally, after a long moment of silence, she sighed, letting out a heavy breath that seemed to take away some of the tension from her muscles, her shoulders sagging in what looked to be defeat, as though she'd somehow lost a battle that had been happening inside her own head.

"I did not receive the title of ruler of Heaven, or of the... 'boss' as you so insistently call it, for anything other than trust," Hannah said, shaking her head once more, though the movement looked so much weaker now. Her voice had lost its edge, earning what sounded like a tired tone. It was almost like she'd suddenly lost the strength to keep up that hard, confident front. "The other angels trust me to do the right thing, to ensure that Heaven functions the way our Father intended it to, and that means making sure that all His rules are followed by every single one of us." She let out another breath, before turning her head slightly, just so she could glance over at their small group several feet away, two of which were still kneeling on the ground. Her eyes found Castiel, and for some reason, they looked almost... sad, which was a very odd sight to see, though it was still enough to make her look so much more like the Hannah Castiel had once come to know. He had certainly not expected the sight of it right now, though that did not mean that the change in her demeanor was not welcome in any way. "The angels hate you, Castiel. All of them. So if I even tried to change their minds about this, even if I wished to do that, they would consider it treason. Heaven will see this nephilim dead, no matter who is in charge of making that happen."

A heavy silence followed Hannah's words as their meaning slowly sunk in. So convincing Hannah of anything would have been pointless either way then, even if they had succeeded at it. Even if Hannah were to change her mind and attempt to defend them against the rest of the Host, all that would actually accomplish would be causing Hannah to be removed from her place as ruler of Heaven. There was no way to actually convince the Host of Castiel's innocence, not if all angels already considered him guilty based solely on their collective dislike of him, a thought that was almost unbearable to have as it registered in the Castiel's mind. It seemed like tonight, with every minute that passed, a small portion of the hope that still resided within his chest, the hope that they might be able to survive this, that someday their baby would not be wanted dead by the ones Castiel had once thought of as his family, faded to nothing.

"Not that I would defend you about any of this," Hannah continued, her tone suddenly returning to that cold, professional one from before. "This is wrong, Castiel. You're choosing... _them_ over us, and you do not seem capable of seeing the error in your ways. You're completely delusional."

"I'm not delusional, Hannah," Castiel replied, somehow managing to keep his voice steady and firm, even if his heart once more felt painfully heavy inside his chest. "Perhaps I once was, when I blindly believed everything the Host told me, when I never even considered questioning the orders I received, or when I thought Heaven could ever be my family, but not anymore."

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel thought he saw Dean smile, almost like he was proud to hear the angel say those words to Hannah, but Castiel did not turn to look at the hunter to confirm it.

Hannah frowned at Castiel, much like she had done earlier when he had called Dean and the nephilim his family and told her that he loved them. She looked confused, staring at Castiel in disbelief, once again looking like she was struggling to find something to say, like she could not possibly manage to wrap her head around the words she'd just heard, like they were the most absurd thing she had ever heard in all of her existence. She was looking at Castiel like she truly thought he'd gone mad.

"You're conflicted."

Hannah turned her head back around quickly at the sound of Gabriel's voice, only to find the archangel calmly taking the three steps that still separated them, crossing the distance between them slowly, carefully, like he was trying not to startle her. She still tensed up once she realized he was moving closer to her, of course, her gaze dropping to his blade for a moment before she lifted it back up to his face, though she did not step back. Her voice was still surprisingly firm as she replied, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You do think Castiel broke the rules, yes, and you're not happy about any of this, but you're confused. You could have killed him earlier, you could have denied him any chance of speaking at all, which is what any other angel would have done in your place, but you didn't do that, did you?" Gabriel smirked at her, his eyes tinkling once again, like he was delighted with what he was saying, or perhaps greatly amused, Castiel couldn't tell for sure. All he knew for certain was that this time, the emotions actually seemed genuine. "No, instead, you heard what he had to say, like part of you was hoping that he would somehow give you a reason to spare him. And that means that somewhere deep, deep down in your mind, somewhere inside that thick skull of yours, you still have doubts. You don't fully believe Castiel is guilty, or that he has to die because of this. But most importantly, you care about him."

Hannah's expression was hard to read. She looked impassive, completely unaffected by the archangel's words, but she was standing too still, her muscles too tense, eyes too concentrated. Castiel was not sure how to read her right then, but to him it seemed like she was trying very heard to keep her features cold and emotionless, to keep them under control.

And she did not try to deny Gabriel's words. Instead, she all but growled out, "Just end this. You're going to kill me either way, so just do it and be done with it." 

"No," Gabriel replied, that same pleased smirk from before still playing on his lips, "Because this means you might still be useful." Gabriel waggled his brows at her, lifting his free hand in the air and moving it toward her quickly. Hannah flinched, but didn't try to swat the archangel's hand away or try to defend herself in any way, simply closing her eyes as Gabriel touched her forehead with the tips of his fingers.

And in the blink of an eye, Hannah was gone.

Castiel stared at Gabriel for a moment, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. There was nothing but empty air in front of the archangel now, nothing on the spot where Hannah had been standing merely a couple of seconds ago, which meant he hadn't killed her, but sent her somewhere else. Castiel could not imagine where, however, and he even opened his mouth to ask that question, but he did not get the chance to actually form the words and push them past his lips.

"What did you do to Hannah?" Sam asked before Castiel could.

"I sent her to the middle of Antarctica," Gabriel replied with a careless shrug. "I figured that'd be far enough so that it should take a while for Heaven to find her and get her back."

"Shouldn't you have killed her, though?" Sam inquired.

Castiel was not sure how to feel about that question. Part of him was also wondering if maybe Gabriel should have killed Hannah, but there was another part of him that could not quite let go of the words the archangel had spoken about her earlier, that was still wondering if there could be any truth in them. If Hannah was indeed conflicted, if she truly had doubts about this situation, then that had to mean that part of the Hannah that Castiel had come to consider his sister was still in there somewhere—buried deep underneath the surface, true, but it might be there nonetheless. And perhaps Hannah had only condemned Castiel the way she had tonight precisely because she knew defending him would most likely accomplish nothing. She had not killed him when she'd had the chance, after all, and for some reason, Castiel wanted to believe that had to mean something.

However, he chose not to voice any of that right now.

"If I had, Heaven would just choose a new leader and move on," Gabriel explained. "With her alive, though, they gotta go get her, wherever she is, or at least organizing another search party for those two will be a bit more complicated, because we all know how useless most angels are without anyone barking out orders for them to follow. I just bought you all a head start of at least a couple of weeks."

"But if she's alive, then she can report back to Heaven," Sam pointed out.

"Oh, it's a little late to be worrying about that," Gabriel replied, "Apparently you didn't keep up with the conversation, L'Oréal boy, but that ship has already sailed. Right now, every single angel in existence knows exactly which angel created a nephilim, as well as who's carrying it. There's no fooling Heaven anymore, I'm afraid."

Sam let out an annoyed huff, shaking his head at the archangel. "That's not what I meant. I just thought you didn't want Heaven to know you're alive. Or did Afriel tell them that as well?"

There was a shift in Gabriel's features—extremely subtle, yes, but somehow, Castiel still caught it. His eyes seemed to grow a bit darker, his jaw suddenly a bit more tense, his brows furrowing just barely. Castiel was not sure what to make of the change, but he did not get the chance to dwell on it, as it was gone as soon as it came, and quickly the archangel had the mask of indifference he normally worn back in place. He shrugged, "Yeah, well, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

The silence that followed Gabriel's words was heavy, and no one actually attempted to break it, as apparently the odd, brief shift in the archangel's demeanor had not gone unnoticed by Sam and Dean, either. But no one seemed willing to point out that the archangel's explanation had not sounded genuine at all, and as the pause stretched on, all Castiel found himself able to do was frown at Gabriel, wondering what the archangel could be hiding from them, because by now the seraph was sure that there was something there, some sort of secret Gabriel was working very hard to keep from them, though Castiel had no idea what that could be.

Eventually, Gabriel was the one to break the silence.

"I thought you might want this, by the way," he announced, his tone casual, like the air around them hadn't suddenly turned tense and filled with unspoken questions. And blatantly ignoring the curious looks he was still receiving, the archangel lifted his free hand, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the small vial containing Afriel's Grace, before swinging his arm swiftly through the air, sending the small container flying a few feet toward their small group. It was a very calculated toss, and it reached them perfectly, but Dean still let go of Castiel's hand so he could attempt to catch it with both hands. But in the end, the hunter had to make close to no effort at all to catch in the air, as it pretty much landed straight on his waiting palms.

The hunter stared down at the vial for a moment once it was safely cradled in his hands, his gaze almost reverent. He swallowed once, before lifting his head and turning it so he could look at Gabriel, and Castiel followed Dean's gaze, only to find the archangel giving the human a meaningful stare, a look that very clearly held some sort of message behind it, like there was some sort of wordless conversation happening between them right then, some sort of silent understanding that Castiel was not sure how to read.

That only lasted for a few seconds, however, until finally Dean nodded, like he was thanking the archangel, before turning back to Castiel without waiting for a response.

The hunter lifted the small vial gently, his hold around the small glass object careful, like it was something precious and vulnerable, easily breakable. He looked almost afraid to drop it, even if surely that would not be enough to shatter the container, as there was nothing but soft earth beneath them. "You said you would do it," Dean whispered, holding the small capped flask right in front of Castiel's face. His eyes were begging, filled with hope as he stared at the angel, an unspoken plea painted clearly on his face.

Castiel had said he would do this. He remembered it clearly, and he'd meant it. There was no fight to be had here about this, even if he hadn't made that promise a handful of nights ago. He did not feel sad or guilty that Afriel was dead because of him, not at all regretful that she'd been killed so that Dean and the baby were safe. So in that moment, Castiel could not think of a single reason not to take her Grace now. There was an odd satisfation that came with the thought of doing so, actually, and the seraph briefly wondered if that feeling truly belonged to him or if he should blame the Mark for it. He found that he didn't care, either way.

Slowly, Castiel nodded.

Dean seemed very relieved that the angel had agreed to this so easily, letting out a sigh and even smiling at Castiel a bit, some of the light finally returning to his eyes. It was a beautiful sight to see right then, and even with all the wounds Castiel still carried, even without yet having taken Afriel's Grace as his own, that sight alone was already enough to make him feel better.

With careful hands, Dean uncapped the vial, holding it closer to the angel's mouth, though not quite pressing it to his lips. Castiel lifted his hand to wrap it around the hunter's wrist so he could keep Dean's hand steady and make sure that the human wouldn't move it away, even if that didn't seem at all necessary, before breathing in deeply as he called out to the power being offered to him, willing it to move toward him.

And it did. Afriel's Grace flowed out of the small glass container slowly, sliding through the air and right into Castiel's mouth, tickling his dry lips as it brushed past them. The new, unfamiliar Grace felt warm as it slid down his throat, and it hurt a bit, just as it had the two other times he'd done this, as though he'd taken a big sip of far too hot coffee that burned on the way down, but once the small cloud of angelic energy finally reached his chest and settled there, the pain stopped.

Afriel's Grace did nothing for a moment. It simply... stayed there, inside of him, as though confused about its purpose inside his vessel, but once the spent Grace that still resided within Castiel reached out to the new source of energy, guiding it toward his soul, the new Grace followed willingly. The new power filled him, spreading into every single crevice of his being, blanketing him completely, light washing over everything around him as Afriel's Grace started to change, shifting into a copy of his own original Grace so it could merge with his soul. 

And then the pain was back.

It came from deep within him this time, and it was much stronger now—sharp, excruciating even, like someone had cut his chest open and started to tear out his insides with clawed hands. Adina's Grace screamed in pain, howling, begging for help as the new Grace burned everything it touched, as though he'd just swallowed lava, or perhaps hot, scalding metal. Afriel's Grace seemed to destroy everything it touched, melting away his flesh, clawing at his insides as it spread, feeling like it tore pieces of tissue wherever it passed, taking him apart without pause. The pain filled him, taking over his entire body, spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, growing stronger with every second that passed, to the point where all he knew was that powerful, unbearable, _blinding_ pain.

"Castiel!"

There was a hand holding his jaw, tilting his chin up, and Castiel focused on that feeling, letting it ground him. So he still had a body, a vessel. He was still alive.

Castiel kept that thought in the forefront of his mind, holding on to it like a lifeline, and with great effort, the angel managed to open his eyes, but he could not immediately get his vision to focus properly once he did it. He blinked confusedly up at the dark shadow hovering above him, a meaningless, shapeless smudge towering over him, as he could not quite identify what the form was. He was lying on the ground on his back now, it seemed like, though Castiel could not recall when that had happened exactly. The pain was still there, but suddenly it felt weaker, or maybe his struggling to keep his grip on reality simply made it easier to ignore it, he honestly couldn't tell. He could taste blood on his tongue, and it felt like there was water in his ears. Every single one of his senses seemed to have been compromised by something he could not remember happening.

"Castiel, can you hear me?"

That voice was familiar, and Castiel held on to that thought as well, struggling to place the voice somewhere. He knew that sound. He'd heard it before, several times. Yes, he knew that voice. It belonged to... who exactly? He couldn't make himself remember. He couldn't...

Gabriel. It belonged to Gabriel.

Castiel held on to that thought as firmly as he could, using it as something to lean on, something solid to keep him grounded to reality and not fall back into the abyss of pain and despair he'd been pulled into earlier. And slowly, Castiel's mind began to clear up as he gradually regained control over his body, his pain weakening even more. There was a weird feeling spreading inside his body now, and it wasn't unpleasant. It actually made the pain lessen just barely everywhere it touched, like pouring milk onto a recent burn. Of course, that wasn't nearly enough to send all of the pain away, but at least it helped Castiel remain a bit lucid, gave him something else to hold on to, because while the pain was not gone by any means, now it wasn't enough to completely rip him away from reality, even if it was still very much present in every single inch of his vessel, digging deep into his bones. But Castiel did his best to ignore all that, to push all that aside for now, at least enough so that he could regain his bearings to some degree. He used the feeling of the mud beneath his fingers and under him, supporting his body—solid, tangible,  _real—_ to ground himself this time, forcing his eyes to focus properly, blinking to clear his vision and glancing around.

Dean was lying on the ground, panting, gripping at his own chest like his heart was aching. Briefly, Castiel felt glad that Dean had not chosen to stand up earlier, because the human would have probably collapsed back down to the ground now, and the fall could have hurt the baby. Sam was kneeling beside Dean, a hand resting on his brother's shoulder, eyes wide and panicked, and he was clearly lost on what to do, on how to help. Dean's hands kept digging into the dirt under his fingers, gripping at the earth as though it might help him, as though he was also feeling the need to find something real and solid to hold on to, to lean on. He seemed to be struggling to breathe, his eyes wide, body trembling as he choked on empty air.

Castiel could not feel if Dean was having contractions, and that thought terrified him.

The angel tried to reach out to Dean, to try to offer his mate comfort even if Castiel himself might also be in need of it in that moment, but quickly the seraph found that he could not lift his hand to do so, as it remained lying limply on the dirt by his side, completely unresponsive. He could not find the strength to move it, as though his limbs had at some point become nothing more than useless appendages.

"Gabriel, what the hell is wrong with them?" Sam asked from where he was still trying to calm Dean down, fear clear in his voice, tangible in every syllable that rolled off his tongue. His wide, terrified eyes kept darting back and forth between the archangel and his brother, as though he was scared something else might happen to Dean if he moved his gaze away from him for longer than a couple of seconds.

Gabriel didn't immediately respond. He tilted Castiel's head up a bit more, and the seraph did not attempt to fight the movement, as much as the muscles in the back of his neck screamed in pain because of it. It wasn't like he had the strength to do it, anyway, even if he did wish to resist in any way, not to mention that it might actually cause him even more pain. Gabriel’s gaze was measuring, heavy, the look in his eyes hard and serious, which all formed such a different sight, such an unusual expression to see painted on his features. It was rare, though not completely unheard of—it was a similar expression to the one Gabriel had worn when Dean had angered him back in Absarokee, or when Castiel had talked to the archangel about the Book of the Damned. The comparisons only solidified the fact that this was definitely a very bad situation in Castiel’s mind.

But he couldn't inquire about it. The air he was currently struggling to pull into his lungs felt far too thin, barely even enough to allow him to stay conscious, as though he was attempting to breathe at a much higher altitude where there was a considerably lower amount of oxygen available, so he doubted he would actually be able to speak right now even if he tried.

It was only then that Castiel realized the pleasant, numbing feeling that had sent some of the pain away seemed to be irradiating from his chest, which Gabriel currently had his palm pressed against.

"The Mark interfered," the archangel finally announced, finally letting go of Castiel’s jaw, and the seraph let his head fall back against the dirt under him, feeling relieved that his muscles were now free of the strain of attempting to keep it raised.

He panted for a moment while he looked up at the dark, starred sky above them, before he forced his head to roll to the side, so that he could glance over at Dean and Sam once more. It took a lot of strength to accomplish the movement, and it hurt, but at least now he could see Dean. The hunter was trying to sit up now, with Sam’s help, though his breathing was still clearly labored. There was blood staining his lips and chin, as though it had flowed out of his mouth at some point, and once more the seraph wished he could reach out to the human, to cradle him in his arms and try to offer him comfort against all the pain his mate was clearly feeling in that moment.

Dean did not seem to be in labor, though, which was truly a relief, but there was still something terribly wrong.

Above Castiel, Gabriel continued to speak, "Any other angel's Grace that Castiel claims for himself has to merge with his soul, but for that to work, it has to... become a copy of his original Grace, to a degree, at least enough so that a connection can happen. It's a very, very delicate process, and that's exactly what Mark screwed up."

Sam's eyes widened even more at those words. "Gabriel, what does that  _mean_?"

"It means that the Mark is forcing the Grace Castiel just swallowed to burn away too quickly. The Mark's fighting the whole process, not allowing the change to happen correctly and forcing Afriel’s Grace to waste energy constantly to try to merge itself with his soul. And while that’s happening, the old Grace Castiel already had in him is using a lot of energy to try and protect all three of them from that, to shield them from any harm the Mark might be attempting to do to them while they’re all so vulnerable. If this goes on much longer, it'll end up killing them—all three of them."

A heavy, tense silence followed Gabriel’s words. Dean continued to gasp for air, even if he had successfully managed to sit up by then, and finally he was able to fully lift his head, panicked, fearful eyes finding Castiel's as the pause stretched on. The seraph wished he could feel what the hunter was feeling then, but the bond felt oddly dull in that moment, the connection far too weak, muddled, unreachable even. All that Castiel could really feel in that moment was the strong, excruciating _pain_ that came from deep within him without pause. He could only hope that Dean could not feel it too, but that seemed truly unlikely at this point _._

That silence did not last long, and Gabriel was the one to break it, announcing in a dark, somber tone what Castiel already knew, what _everyone_ already knew, but the fact that the archangel's next words did not in any way come as a surprise did not mean that it hurt any less to hear them.

"They’re running out of time. We need to find Castiel's Grace, and we need to find it  _now."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed chapter warning:
> 
>  **(Spoiler warning!)**  
>   
>  The minor character death refers to the fact that five out of the six angels who arrived at the cabin in the last chapter—who will attempt to fight the Winchesters in order to kill Cas, Dean and the nephilim—die in this chapter. The fight against them is pretty graphic, especially the parts that include Juliet. I mean it, there's even a limb that gets chewed off by her.
> 
> Also, during the fight, Cas, Charlie, Sam and Juliet get hurt, and Juliet's injury is by far the worst one. Cas also ends up in a pretty bad state by the end of the chapter, and because of that, so does Dean.
> 
> -
> 
> So, does everybody still want Hannah to die? :P
> 
> I apologize for the scene where Juliet gets stabbed, but I actually added her getting hurt like that for a reason, and I'll explain exactly what that reason was when the time comes and the explanation is no longer a spoiler for what's happening next.
> 
> I ended up taking a lot of liberties on the search for Cas' Grace, so my version of it turned out to be nothing like what we saw in canon. Hope you guys don't mind. ;)
> 
> And finally, thank you so much to **undoubtedly-gay** on Tumblr for making a truly adorable and amazing piece of fanart for this fic. <33 :) I'd never gotten fanart before, so that made me so happy! Go give them some love, guys!<3 :)


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